#if I don’t read them I don’t have to accept that it’s over

[itsrlymine]

How Many Times Do You Need To Be Told It Already Happened To Know It's Done Now?

Make it simple because it is. Remember it already happened because it did. When we manifest something, WE LITERALLY BEGIN TO TALK ABOUT HOW IT MANIFESTED SO DO THAT SHIT NOW!!!  When something happens, we all naturally recount it. We explain it to ourselves afterwards in whatever way we can. If you want something to happen, tell yourself that it did.  I want a new job. Omg I love my new job. I want to receive tons of money. No way I just received so much money wow. I want a new apartment. Omg I love my new space.  The physicality of a thing isn’t what makes it real. It’s your perception that does. I don’t need to know what device you are reading this on to know you are reading. I don’t need to know when you started, how you pronounce the words, I don’t need to know anything but I know you are. It’s the same with everything else. 

Your mind’s eye sees EVERYTHING FIRST. That doesn’t mean it “takes long.” If you just saw something in your mind, IT HAPPENED. If you just thought of something you would like to experience, YOU ARE EXPERIENCING IT NOW. The only reason you “aren’t” is because you say so. Literally.  Again, when you think about memories, you experience them within you. You can feel like you are experiencing past feelings or thoughts by thinking about them yet you don’t question it. Now when it comes to things you do want, you act all weird about it??? Make it make fucking sense.  This whole entire thing is just about whether or not you trust yourself. Whether or not you believe in yourself. To believe in you is to believe in everything because you are everything. There is nothing outside of you. No power or being dictating whether or not you are worthy of something. The power is you.   I wanted to hear from someone I hadn’t heard from in years last night and then I had to remember “umm?? I’m pretty sure we just got off the phone what the heck.” They called me and we spoke as if there hadn’t been any time that passed at all between us. It had been over 3 years but should I have let that determine if I’d hear from them? NO. It doesn’t matter. The story you tell about yourself is the experience you live. Think back to before you found out about the law (you). You can literally see how your thinking and who you thought yourself to be created situations you were in as a result. There’s no need to sit and beat yourself up about the past because it’s also now just what you say it is.   Give yourself that peace you want. Give yourself the stress free space to enjoy life. There is nothing you can’t achieve as long as you have an open mind.  The world is constantly showing you who you say you are and what you believe about it. Whatever you say you are, you are.  You’ve accepted the fact that you can read and understand the words on this post so what’s stopping you from accepting the fact that you now have what you previously wanted. Be still and fucking know. It’s yours already damn. 

[ironteeth-fury]

👋 👋👋

Do u give ghoap fic recommendations? If so can u give us please 🙏 (iys alr if u don’t want to ^~^)

*rubs hands together* finally my time has come, the 436 cod bookmarks i have will be useful!

right so you didn't specify anything beyond ghoap so i'm gonna throw a bunch in here with different themes and lengths and settings and stuff.

Gonna try to keep it to one work per author as well, but generally check out the other works of these authors!

I'm gonna cover WIP's that i'm following and loving, canon ghoap, still military but au in ways that might be timeline or in the sense of magic or abo or supernatural or something. Also completely AU ghoap, and I also have a couple crack fics that i just think are really good and funny.

Buckle up there's a lot

WIPS

Acceptable Loss by MildLimerence. Limerence is one of my favorite authors, definitely check out all the other works as well. Acceptable Loss is post MWIII wherein Soap gets turned into an agent for Makarov. This has made me cry and scream.

But not to yield by monsterlice and toomanybats. Definitely also check both authors out, more good shit to be found!! post military service for ghost and soap both. Demi!Simon in an abusive relationship, absolute perfect specimen who will treat you right! Soap. Pretty sure this updates weekly on wednesdays or thursdays, i forgot sorry :/

There will be no tenderness by Simcoehole. Simcoehole is where I break the rules, there will be 4 of their fics in this list and I will not apologise (really you should applaud my restraint because i could've put a lot more in here). This is canon Ghoap with Soap on medical leave, stalker!ghost, a lot of angst and pining, and Simcoehole's specialty: idiots to lovers. has only one chapter so it's the best time to get into it! Updates on mondays, I think.

Crack fics

right so a couple shorter fics that are just generally funny

miannach by simcoehole. Right. Simcoehole fic #2. This is very much Crack Premise, executed super well and quite seriously as well. Premise: Soap cuts a hole in a bar of soap (lol) and it becomes a magical portal hole to his ass. So after fucking himself with it, he decides to leave it in teh communal showers. Which is fun but overwhelming. Then Ghost gets a hold of it. (this is just a lot of porn, but it's awesome)

Save a pony, ride a ghost - Jazzybot4 and naughtypixie. Soap has Stripper Skills and it is the perfect opportunity to show them off. the rest of the 141 is stunned <3

the divine and the blessed by ghost_throat. Soap finds himself being sacrificed to a god (believe me this will be 1000x better iwthout context. Don't forget to read the sequel)

Talk Too Much by achievement_huntresss. '22 ghoap who are in denial about their feelings run into '09 ghoap who, while not fucking (anymore) immediatly clock that the idiots are head over heels for each other, and decide to do something about it.

Russian Roulette by Red_Clegane. Just. Soap being a badass completely casual, as you-please. Love the attitude

Canon Ghoap

Up In Arms by eclecticscribbles. Ghost introduces Soap to BDSM so they can infiltrate a fancy exclusive bdsm club to find their target.

Any Time You Need Me by thirteenbullets. right so this is technically an entire series that i've linked, but, they all fall under what im gonna tell you: non-sexual intimacy, physical touch, a bit of angst and a lot of comfort. This entire series feels like curling up with a blanket on the couch in front of the fireplace with a mug of hot cocoa. it's comfy. (also has one of my favorite sentences ever that will live rent-free in my brain forever. He drew the ducks <3)

Seasons by StinglessWasp. the writing is breathtaking, it's a beautiful look at soap, ghost and their relationship and how they change over the course of four seasons.

What Has One Good Leg and Bleeds? by YmeMadarame. Soap gets his leg injured and betrayed and falsly confirmed KIA in the depths of hostile territory. He tries to make it back home. A classic case of it gets worse before it gets better.

Mission Briefs by BleedingTypewriter. What if ghost and soap hooked up before they met for the mission in al mazrah? Written as missing scenes between game cutscenes and missions. Beautiful, funny and sexy!

sometimes words have two meanings by Bluejay141519. beautiful take on the "the team accidentally massively hurts soaps feelings and trigger his inferiority complex" featuring a lot of hurt!soap.

its just a shot away by Bluejay141519. so another breaking of the rules by adding a second fic from bluejay, but both these fics are special to me. This is soap on a mission that went beyond FUBAR, trying to survive long enough for the 141 to come get him, and has been going on stims for almost 4 days. Soap reacts real bad to stims once he comes off of it. This is beautifully written and grabs me every time, and somehow manages to be one of the funniest things i've ever read while the tone of the fic overall is very serious and angsty.

Take a Breath by TAFKAmayle. Longg before the 141 started, we get Sergeant Simon Lamont (who will later be Lieutenant Simon "ghost" Riley) in charge of training the platoon of Corporal John "soap" MacTavish. There is tension. (turns out, it's sexual tension. who'da thunk it?) Includes them meeting again in game canon. (love this, its hilarious and i love it as a peek into Simon's mind)

can't keep johnny down by Wheezing_Joe. Soap loses comms on a mission. The 141 have to leave him behind. Soap makes his own way back to base. Turns out they missed him.

Bad Habits by NebulaGazer. I think this is the first real long fic that I'm linking, at 140k words. It's a mission fic of ghoap getting together. Soap gets thrown out of a couple of windows. It's great!

I Woke Up Underground by WispScribbles. this is a fun one!! we get wump, angst, buried alive trope, more wump, dad!price, and a lot of Feelings. (also definitely comfort at the end no worries)

Bait and Switch by Starlight_VLD. Another Soap gets turned into Makarov's assassin fic, this time with body doubles!! it's beautiful, it's sad, it's comforting, it's 141 as a family.

Oh, Brother by MeowMeowRiley. Ghost's family lives, and through some work civililan connections, both get roped into helping Soap's sibling move, unbeknownst to each other.

This is Ghost and Soap as Simon and John, seen through the eyes of their siblings, who do wonder 'why the hell are they not fucking yet?'

Military Ghoap AU's

faege by Simcoehole. #3 Simcoehole fic!! Soulmate AU following the MWIII storyline. Ghost and Soap wake up tied together by a red string of fate, declaring them soulmates. Both of them decide that, no, fate must have made a mistake, just because I'm hopelessly in love with him. He doesn't feel the same. I don't want to ruin our friendship. Let's see how we can get rid of this because he deserves better than being stuck with me for the rest of his life. (yep.) A lot of pining, angst, Idiots to Lovers (altho the idiots never really goes away with how fucking bad it is lmao). This is beautiful and it will make you yell at your screen and want to throw things but the worst part is that even though they're being big stupid idiots, when you're in their head you GET IT, you might not agree but you understand why they're comign to the conclusions they are (mostly). It's infuriating in the best way.

The devil has my throat by Simcoehole. Hi, last but certainly not least (with over 400k words) we have the devil has my throat. THIS FIC is what got me into the author, and what got me into the community. This fic is the start of my tumblr account. So, yeah.

Vampire!Ghost and Previously-Traumatised-By-Vampires!Soap. Who has, obviously, not processed said trauma at all, but is also immediatly horny as fuck for ghost. Features: being idiots, a lot of kinky vampire sex (so blood and biting and also some fun surprises you'll love later) a supernatural plot, price who doesn't get told even 10% of what's going on, and my Favorite OC Of All Time Ever.

Thrown for a Loop by enter_fand0m_reference00. Time Loop Alone Mission!!!! need I say more?? no, no i don't. (check out the rest of the series for more time loop shenanigans)

Results May Vary by HigherMagic. HigherMagic is one of my favorite authors so definitely check out all the other works as well, but this is the one I picked out to go on this list. It's wolf shifter soap deciding to woo the shit out of dragon ghost. (with a lot of lore!!! we love lore!!!)

Wont you lay your hands on me by Kensington. ABO but make it make sense! Alpha Ghost, Omega Soap, courting, world-building, trauma processing. absolutely one of my favorite abo fics ever (it's #2)

Yes to Heaven by Apollos_Last_Prophet. Okay but what if Soap was "killed" and taken and been made into Makarov's assassin before the 141 is even a thing?? You get this. The Ghoap is absolutely gorgeous in here.

My heart in your hands keeps going on by FetteEule. Former Military Soap! Neighbours Soap and Ghost! Ghost being forced on leave and fucking hating it, and soap changing his mind on it <3 (also of course price knows soap too)

Collecting Strays by WhisperedWords12. Check out the author again, there are more!! Werewolf soap gets rescued from a werewolf fighting ring and, being military, gets kept by Price and the 141. Ghost does not trust Soap at all.

No Rest for the Wicked by WispScribbles. Retired Ghoap are called back in when Price goes MIA. Mission fic. Feelings. Established Ghoap (theyre marrieddd)

hell hath no fury by sunshowers_and_dandelion_wine. Dragon shifter Soap!! Who accumalates the 141 as his hoard and is super protective and possessive, while trying to keep his being a dragon a secret!

Varium Lupus Division by North927. Sort-of military, sort of not? Post 141, Simon sets up his own division where they rescue and rehabilitate shifters/hybrids. Soap is the latest rescue.

Take Me On by Monsterlice. this is the #1 abo fic. It's got traumatised omega!Ghost who does Not Trust Anyone who goes into heat, has put it off long enough that it might kill him if he doesn't get handled by an alpha. Surprise, Gaz and Price, the only alphas (people, really) he trusts in the world are not here!! and won't be back in time. So, Laswell calls in Alpha!Soap (who will start at the 141 in like, a couple weeks) Features Consent!King!Soap who is absolutely enamoured by this huge feral omega who will fucking kill him if he steps a toe out of line. I fucking love soap in this soooo much.

a patron saint for butchers, fools and living fire by ForgottenFrog. I dunno, don't really want to spoil it by telling too much about it. This is one of the fics that settled into my bones and refused to leave.

(are you tired yet, cuz we've got some more to go)

AU's!

Dark Eyes Meet Under The Sky by Aessedia. (gonna have another one of Aessedia because i could NOT for the life of me choose) University professor Ghost. Grad student Soap. Soap needs a reccomendation for ghost who is known for being grumpy and hating his students. Also, Soap begins talking to a Dom on a kink-related dating website. Wonder who that is.

The Aerialist by Aessedia. LIsten okay Aessedia is just fucking amazing and go check /all of it/ out, because these two are my favorites but all the others are super good as well. Also, happy birthday to The Aerialist!! Aerialistic Acrobats Soap and Ghost who starts as rivals but then suddenly have to work together. Beyond overcoming their rivalry, there is also seemingly someone out to kill or at least ruin the 141 acrobats.

Why Did The Cowboy Take Hay To Bed? by LawfulSlab. Definitely check out all the other works as well they're beautiful. Historical au. Omega Soap and Alpha Ghost are the only two survivors of a convoy ambush. They seek shelter and have to pretend to be married to save Soap's virtue (unmarried omega out all alone, gasp!!) and then they fall in love. It's domestic as shit, and beautiful and the convoy was definitely a plot device to get them here and not something that will come back later as more plot, nahh.

Head of Department by Goblin_Pudding. Professors AU! Rival professors who hate each other, Price forces them to work together and /shit fuck we're in love now/. Including the past coming back to haunt you and Feelings <3. Romcom!!

Yellow Card by eddie_dxaz and skerryB. Football players AU! of course our boys start out having a massive rivalry and then Soap comes on the team and they have to play nice. Featuring homophobia of the world of sports, shitty exes coming back to create chaos, alive Riley family (except Simon's dad).

a pirate's life, aye? by victorianankles. firstly, pirate AU is one of my favorites. WE need more pirate au. Just gonna quote my bookmark of this one:

Soap's voice is the perfect mix of melodramatic, sad, hilarious and that somehow humble cockiness that's all Soap. I laughed so fucking much reading this and everyone should read this too, it's beautiful and I love it and I'm gonna cherish this fic forever

for those who need more convincing; one of the epilogues has soap in lingerie that's made of fancy chains and shiny gems. (i might or might not absolutely need art for this fucking hell)

Spoils of War by WhisperedWords12. RIGHT losers of a war get kept as war prisoners until the losing party signs officially that they've lost or something. They get used as sex slaves by the winning party. This is considered normal by everyone involved, as long as you treat your (temporary) slaves well. Soap gets captured and falls under Ghost's care. They are both not prepared for how much they like the other. (a tag from the fic: Enemies to Something They'd Rather Not Talk About. Which I think is quite fitting.) I love the dynamic in this, it's gorgeous.

RIGHT so that's it. For now. I mean i'd assume it's enough for the forseeable future.

Again, like i said i have more than 400 bookmarks so if you want more reccs, reach out, tell me what you like and I'll dig through my bookmarks and brain to see what i can find <3

Also people dont forget to leave kudos and a comment on the fics. If you dont know what to comment, give 'em this one from me:

✨️✨️💕🫧❤️💀💕✨️✨️

[sammylkcho]

As with the vast majority of my fics, I translate them into English because I don't trust my limited bilingual abilities. So, some parts might not be entirely coherent. I'm also writing this after taking a long break from writing for the fandoms I've been involved in, by the way, so it might feel a bit rusty

Extra note: This is my first piece for the CRK fandom! Enjoy this little dose of angst, my SMC fans >3

It was always a common sight to see you carrying a couple of books, moving from place to place around the academy. Even in the most basic and lower-level classes, you always seemed to have something to do.

Some cookies even looked at you disapprovingly because of how much of a bookworm you were, always hidden behind some book—whether for studying or not. They always saw you with your nose buried in some fantasy novel or study material.

Blue lilies had become a familiar presence to you, always resting on the same table you occupied every night at the academy. They always looked fresh, even though they never received enough light due to their distance from the large windows.

In any case, they were your only company, just as you were theirs.

"I don't mean to intrude, but would you mind if I sat here?"

A soft and polite voice made your jam freeze for a moment, startled by the sudden appearance of the mysterious cookie.

You peeked over your book and felt as if your very soul had left your poor cookie body, words failing you as you saw none other than the Sage of Truth standing before you—as if he were just another cookie in the academy.

But the truth was, he wasn’t just another cookie. He was far more than that. An erudite, a scholar of every truth in existence—hell, some even considered him a god.

And now, you were face to face with that very divinity.

"Ah-AH..! Not at all! Please, have a seat! I don’t mind at all, really..." you stammered foolishly, feeling as though you might crumble to pieces at any moment under his mere presence.

Your grip on the book in your hands was growing so tight that you feared you might wrinkle the pages—not something you'd want to do to such a precious piece of literature from such a prestigious library.

You heard the sage let out a small chuckle before he took a seat across from you.

"These lilies are beautiful, part of the Iridaceae family."

His remark made you lift your gaze from your book (which you had already forgotten you were even reading), noticing how the sage's eyes were fixed on the glowing lilies.

His presence left you speechless—the way his hair resembled a sea filled with stars, the way his eyes seemed to hold every truth imaginable. He was unreal.

You quickly averted your gaze before you could seem any weirder than you already did. You might have offended him if he noticed.

"And what is your name, dear little cookie?" he asked, offering you a warm smile with his heterochromatic eyes.

You gave him your name with a slight stammer.

"It is truly a humble pleasure to meet you. You may call me Milkberry."

He offered his hand, and you gladly accepted it with a smile.

It felt so warm. Everything felt so unreal.

Were you dreaming?

[dismalflo]

hii ! i loooved your shitty it job drabble with sirius and i was wondering if we could get more of them maybe some hurt/comfort like sirius help or comfort r after something happen at work ? or sirius being accepting with something r get judged for usually (like a cute parallel to the drabble) ? tysmm !!

Thank you for requesting lovely! <3

Sirius black x reader who has a tough meeting with their supervisor ✩ 937 words

This is set in the same universe as this fic, but can be read as a standalone.

cw: office au, fluff, light hurt/comfort, pre-relationship, some hints of mutual pining

This is hell. Shitty boss. Shitty job. Shitty coworkers. You don’t even know why you were pulled into that meeting with the higher-ups, but there you were, getting chewed out for what felt like an eternity. Thirty minutes of berating, and all for something you’re almost certain wasn’t even your fault. Someone else on your team screwed up, and somehow you’re the one paying the price.

“We expect better from you, Y/N. Don’t let this happen again.” The words echo in your head, and you force a tight smile, nodding as you rise to leave. But as you make your way back to your desk, something shifts. There's a sharp, stinging sensation building behind your eyes, a pressure creeping into your sinuses. You feel horribly overwhelmed, everything closing in around you.

You need to get out.

Without thinking, you veer sharply to the right and head straight for the bathroom. The fluorescent lights burn too bright. The usual buzz of keyboard typing feels deafening. Is it always this loud? Your pulse spikes, and you stumble, barely able to focus.

You crash into someone, knocking the air right out of you. “I’m sorry,” you murmur, trying to keep moving, but a pair of hands gently grip your upper arms, steadying you.

“Whoa, careful. Can’t be falling for me on the job,” a voice says, teasing, but when you look up, you meet the eyes of Sirius. His playful smirk fades instantly as he sees the expression on your face. His concern is immediate, softening his features as he lowers his voice. So unlike Sirius usually. 

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, the words meant only for you, an effort to avoid drawing any attention. You shake your head, and that seems to be all the confirmation he needs. Without hesitation, he guides you into the nearest room.

The moment you step inside, the dam breaks. Silent tears stream down your face, and Sirius quickly realizes he’s in way over his head. Not sure of what to do, he does what feels natural: he pulls you into a hug. You stiffen at first, but then, like a switch flips, you melt against him. And as you do, he relaxes too, holding you a little tighter.

Sirius stands there for a moment, unsure if he should say anything or just let you cry. He knows the line between being a good coworker and something more is thin, and right now, all he wants is to help. His hand gently strokes your back, a comforting rhythm he hopes might soothe you, even if just a little.

"Hey," he murmurs softly, his voice low and steady, "you don't have to explain anything, but... if you want to talk, I'm all ears." His tone isn't pushy, just there, waiting for you to decide if you need it.

The quiet hum of the office sounds miles away, muffled by the thick walls of the small room. You cling to the moment of peace, still too caught up in your emotions to pull away. A small sob escapes your throat, and Sirius' grip tightens slightly, as though trying to shield you from everything else in that moment.

You pull back after a minute, wiping your face quickly with the back of your hand, embarrassed by the outburst. Sirius doesn’t let go, though. He doesn’t make you feel weird for breaking down in front of him, and that, in itself, feels like a kind of relief.

“You okay?” he asks again, his voice steady, but there's an underlying softness that makes your chest tighten. It’s a tenderness you didn’t expect, and it pulls at something deep inside you.

You nod, inhaling a shaky breath. “Yeah... sorry, that was kind of lame,” you admit with a wet laugh, trying to brush it off.

He chuckles, but the sound is softer than usual, almost relieved. “You had my heart ready to drop out of my arse,” he says, shaking his head, though the concern still lingers in his eyes.

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh at his words. The corners of your lips twitch upwards, his humor disarming you even now. You wipe your eyes again, trying to collect yourself.

“I was just—” You hiccup, voice breaking slightly. “I was just overwhelmed, I think,” you finish, the last of the tears slipping down your flushed cheeks. “Got called into Helen’s office... sorry for being hysterical or whatever.”

He looks at you, his expression softening, and then gives a low chuckle. “I think you’re alright. I feel the same way every time I get called into that office, Doll.” He freezes for a moment, the pet name slipping out before he has a chance to stop it. His eyes flicker nervously, hoping it doesn't come off as too strange. Sure, you flirt sometimes, but nothing like that.

You don’t react with anything but an easy smile. “Thank you, Sirius,” you say, your voice sincere, a warmth spreading across your face.

Sirius holds your gaze for a moment, his own heart thumping a little harder than usual. He smiles back, the warmth in your eyes making him feel like maybe this wasn’t such a disaster after all. "Anytime, Y/N," he says softly, his voice steady.

You nod, feeling a strange sense of comfort, like a weight had been lifted—at least for now. "I’ll try to keep it together," you mutter with a wry grin, wiping the last of the tears away.

“Well, if you don’t, make sure you don't go falling into anyone else's arms.” he admonishes, with a dramatic hand to his chest.

You wouldn’t dare. 

[erodasfishtacos]

My Heart's in Overdrive (& You're Behind the Steering Wheel)

prompt: harry can't catch a break, can't give an explanation, and can only watch how things play out

word count: 3.5k

warnings: angsts, descriptions of anxiety, anxiety attacks, depression

author's note:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

There are multiple other parts of this up and will be updated this month

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here

first FIFTEEN to click here can get a free $5 membership for a month!

-

PART I & PART II

Harry was spiraling.

His mind raced as he tried to formulate an escape plan from the PR date with Tessa. 

He had no recollection of signing the contract, yet there it was, his signature staring back at him like an ironclad promise when Sonny forwarded it to him after getting off the phone call. 

He must have agreed to this at some point, perhaps in a moment of weakness or sheer oversight but he really tried to avoid these types of things.


Even when YN wasn't back in the picture, Harry never enjoyed going on scheduled dates with more pressure than when there aren’t paparazzi and PR teams breathing down his neck.

Regardless, it was binding, and now he had to figure out how to explain it to YN.

God, YN. How was he supposed to tell her? 

Every time they seemed to make progress, something always pulled them back, and this time, it was his fault yet again.

It was like a cruel cycle, one where YN put in all the effort, consistently showing up, prioritizing their relationship, while he let his career obligations dictate their course. 

He wanted to be the kind of partner she deserved, someone who balanced it all effortlessly, but he just kept failing.

Now, he felt caged, not by steel bars or shackles, but by ink on paper—contracts, commitments, and obligations he had no way of breaking without severe consequences. 

The industry was ruthless, and if he backed out, he would be dealing with more than just YN’s disappointment. 

Legal battles, financial repercussions, and a tarnished reputation loomed over him like a dark cloud. 

He couldn't afford to be reckless, not when so many people depended on him.

But YN deserved more than this. 

More than him constantly expecting her to understand, to be flexible, to accept being second priority. 

He had leaned on that grace too many times before, and each time, it chipped away at their foundation.

When he tried to call her, it went straight to voicemail. 

A sinking feeling settled in his gut as he checked their text messages and saw that she had put her phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ for the night.

Fuck.

He couldn’t tell her over text.

How would he even phrase it?

Hey, thanks for the phone sex. By the way, I have a PR date tomorrow morning. Forgot to mention it, but don’t worry—it’s just with the face of Levi’s and totally meaningless.

Yeah, that would go over well.

He wasn’t stupid.

He remembered the comments she had made about his dating history, about his pattern of dating models. 

He could already picture the look on her face when she found out. 

It wasn’t just about the date—it was about what it represented, about the ways it reaffirmed her fears, her insecurities, the ways he had hurt her before. 

This wasn’t just another misstep. 

It was another confirmation that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as important to him as she should be. 

And that wasn’t true. 

It wasn’t. 

Because if they had been talking at the point, Harry would have never signed something like that.

Ever ever ever.

But how could he convince her of that when everything pointed to the opposite?

A tightness gripped his chest, his breathing becoming shallow as his body flooded with panic. 

The weight of it clawed at him, rising up his throat, making his entire body feel like it was on fire. 

He recognized the signs of an anxiety attack before it fully took hold. 

Without thinking, he moved off the bed and into the bathroom, turning the shower on. 

The water was lukewarm, leaning towards cold as he stepped under it, grunting at the ice pelting against the heat of his tender skin.

He needed to ground himself, to regain control, but it wasn’t working.

YN. 

He needed YN.

She was the only one who ever knew how to de-escalate him. 

The only one who could tell when he was getting overwhelmed before he even noticed it himself. 

She had always been that person for him, the calm in the storm, the one who never wavered.

++

YN had always been the calm one, the emotionally regulated anchor in a world that often felt crazy and unpredictable. 

No matter how chaotic the situation or how intense the emotions around her, YN remained a steady presence, someone who could be relied upon to bring balance when everything else seemed to be falling apart.. 

Where others might react impulsively or allow their emotions to take control, YN always found a way to maintain her composure. 

She didn’t rush into decisions or speak without thought; instead, she took the time to process her feelings, allowing herself to fully understand them before responding.

While her friends were often swept up in the storm of their own inner worlds—tossed between the highs of fleeting joy and the lows of uncertainty—YN remained anchored. 

People often marveled at her ability to handle even the most difficult situations with such ease.

Whether it was dealing with a personal conflict, facing an academic challenge, or simply navigating the everyday ups and downs of teenage life, YN always seemed to handle everything with poise. 

Her ability to stay calm in the face of stress wasn’t just a skill; it was a natural part of who she was, a defining characteristic that made her not only emotionally mature for her age but also incredibly wise beyond her years.

Sometimes, YN would get called ‘possessive’ or ‘jealous’ by other girls, and while the words stung, they never quite understood the reality of the situation.

 The assumptions made about her stemmed from one simple fact—no one else ever really got a chance alone with Harry.

 It wasn’t for lack of trying on their part; they all wanted their opportunity to charm him, to see if they could catch his attention, to experience what it would be like to have his undivided focus on them for even a few minutes. 

But it never seemed to happen.

YN was always there, ‘hogging’ him, as they put it, as if he were a prized possession rather than a person with his own agency.

But that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

What they failed to see, what they never took the time to understand, was the unspoken language that existed between YN and Harry. 

They didn’t notice the small, intimate moments that passed between them, the subtle ways they reassured one another, the effortless way they navigated social situations as a unit. \

They didn’t see how, upon arriving at the bonfire at their friend’s house, Harry had gently tugged YN’s hand before she could wander too far, his fingers latching onto hers with a kind of desperation that most people wouldn’t have caught. 

His voice, laced with the kind of nervous energy that only she could recognize, had been quiet but firm when he murmured, “Nut, don’t go too far, please.”

And she understood. 

She always did.

 She didn’t roll her eyes or dismiss his worry. 

She simply nodded, offering him a warm smile that told him she wasn’t going anywhere. 

“I won’t,” YN promised.

Years later, when Harry looked back on this time in his life, he would be struck by how profound their communication had been, how mature their connection was despite their age. 

They had operated on a level far beyond their years, always seeming ot balancing each other out in ways that most adults still struggled to achieve.

“What’s your number?” She had asked him then, her voice soft yet steady, knowing exactly what he needed without him having to say it outright.

“A five,” Harry had replied quietly, almost ashamed to admit it. 

There had been a time when he resented the question, when it made him feel weak, as though acknowledging his anxiety somehow diminished his strength as a man. 

He had been conditioned to believe that vulnerability equated to weakness, that expressing discomfort was something to be embarrassed about. 

But YN had helped him see the truth—that it was okay to feel this way, that it didn’t make him any less of a man.

If anything, it made him stronger.

YN would always remind him in a teasing but truthful tone, “Vulnerability is sexy.”

Despite his social anxiety, Harry never let it stand in the way of being there for YN. 

If someone was giving her a hard time, he wouldn’t hesitate to step in. 

If she needed defending, he was her first line of protection. 

His anxiety never existed in those moments because his love for her was bigger than the fear that usually controlled him. 

He put her first—always even when it meant pushing his own emotions aside.

And yet, he hadn’t realized just how much she had helped him, just how much he had relied on her, until she was gone.

He got too comfortable.

When they broke up, everything unraveled. 

Suddenly, he was alone in social situations, navigating unfamiliar territory without the safety net she had unknowingly provided. 

There was no buffer anymore, no one to subtly swoop in with an excuse when things got too overwhelming, no one to read the slight changes in his demeanor and pull him aside before the panic took hold.

Instead, he was left to face it all on his own, and the weight of it was crushing.

It wasn’t just the heartbreak of losing YN that drained him; it was the combination of grief and his anxiety spiraling unchecked.

It became a vicious cycle—his anxiety feeding into his depression, his depression making his anxiety worse. 

Every social event, every team function, every new situation felt unbearable without her presence beside him. 

He hadn’t even begun to recover when he attempted therapy, but that, too, had left him feeling even more lost.

The therapist’s skepticism had been like a slap to the face.

“If you are as anxious as you say, why would you ever choose to be a professional football player?”

The question had floored him.

He hadn’t known how to answer it. 

It wasn’t that he had chosen this career because it was easy for him—it was that football was the one place where his anxiety didn’t control him. 

On the field, he wasn’t the nervous guy struggling to make small talk at a team dinner. 

He was fast, he was focused, he was powerful. 

Football had been his escape, the only place where his mind quieted long enough for him to feel normal. 

But the therapist hadn’t understood that. 

Instead of helping him work through his struggles, they had made him doubt himself even more.

After that session, he never went back.

His anxiety continued to gnaw at him, unchecked, until it became suffocating. 

The only thing that seemed to help, even just a little, was the cold water. 

Showers, swimming pools, ice baths—it didn’t matter, as long as he could feel the chill against his skin. 

The shock of it helped calm his body down, helped pull him back from the brink when he felt like he was drowning in his own thoughts.

Still, even as the water rushed over him, he couldn’t escape the feeling of being completely and utterly exhausted. 

His breathing was just as heavy as if he had just sprinted the length of a football field, chest heaving, throat dry and burning from the lack of oxygen making its way into his lungs. 

No matter how much he tried to steady himself, to ground himself, it never felt like enough.

And maybe, deep down, he knew why.

Because without YN there to remind him to breathe, to hold his hand when the world felt like too much, he was still learning how to do it on his own.

++

Sleep didn’t come easy that night. 

Harry tossed and turned, his mind restless, his body unable to settle. 

Every few minutes, he reached for his phone, checking and rechecking to see if she had texted back. 

The silence from her end was deafening, and with every passing hour, his anxiety only deepened.

The breakfast date was scheduled for eight-thirty in the morning at a local restaurant that was well-known for being a hotspot for celebrities. 

It was the kind of place where paparazzi loitered, hoping to catch a scandalous photo or an unexpected encounter between two famous people.

 Despite the many times Harry had heard of it, he had never been there himself.

He knew that YN loved a lay-in on the weekends, often staying in bed until nine or even ten if she had the chance.

 But he was praying desperatelythat maybe, just maybe, she had woken up early today. 

That maybe she’d see his message, hear his call, and give him the chance to explain before the media twisted everything into something it wasn’t.

And then, as if the universe had conspired against him, a series of unfortunate events began to unfold. 

Harry considered himself a person with relatively good luck, but today—on the one day he needed it the most—luck was nowhere to be found. 

He needed a favor from fate more than he needed to throw a game-winning touchdown during the playoffs, but fate had other plans.

He had anticipated the presence of paparazzi. 

That was the whole point of this arrangement, after all. 

But what he hadn’t expected was just how many would be waiting for him. 

The scene outside the restaurant was overwhelming—swarming with photographers who acted like vultures circling fresh roadkill.

They were shoving at each other, pressing themselves against his car before he even had the chance to park properly. 

And, of course, because they wanted the best possible photographs, he had been instructed to park at the very front of the restaurant—completely exposed. 

Normally, in situations like this, celebrities were offered the option of a back entrance, a discreet way in.

But not today.

Harry’s anxiety, which had been simmering since the night before, was now reaching a boiling point. 

The flashing cameras, the deafening shouts, the lack of personal space—it all pushed him closer and closer to the edge. 

The paparazzi operated with the delusion that they were untouchable, fearless even in the face of a towering quarterback with broad shoulders and the muscle mass to back up his size. 

They had the upper hand, and they knew it.

Then, the bystanders started to notice the commotion. 

Pedestrians, people who had merely been passing by, suddenly realized someone important was in their midst. 

Like moths to a flame, they gravitated toward the growing mob, adding to the chaos.

In the frenzy of trying to get into the restaurant without causing a scene—or worse, someone getting hurt, Harry never heard his phone ring. 

The noise was too much, his mind too wired, his body too overwhelmed to even register the vibration in his pocket.

By the time he finally made it inside, he was on the verge of hyperventilating. 

But he hid it well. 

No one—not the restaurant staff, not the other patrons would be able to tell just how much he was struggling. 

Only YN ever saw through the cracks in his composure.

The restaurant’s owner greeted him, shaking his hand and immediately launching into a conversation about football. 

It was always football.

Harry nodded along, forcing himself to appear engaged even as he mentally tried to steady himself. 

He was then guided to a very public table on the outside patio, where cameras could easily document every second of the staged date.

Tessa hadn’t arrived yet. 

That, at least, was a small mercy. 

He had a few minutes to collect himself before he had to endure the part of the morning he was dreading the most.

Harry pulled out his phone, fully expecting to see nothing from YN.

But to his surprise, there was a missed call.

8:23 AM.

His heart lurched as he immediately pressed her contact, anxious for her to answer. 

He needed to explain himself. 

Needed her to hear the truth. 

But the call rang once before going straight to voicemail.

His stomach dropped.

She had sent him to voicemail.

How could she already know?

Then, a text appeared on his screen:

YN: Sorry! I’m about to head into a deep tissue massage appointment to work on these aches from the accident. My shoulder’s still twinging a bit!! I’ll call you when I get out! (:

Relief flooded through him, though it was short-lived. 

He wanted to reply immediately, to ask for just a minute of her time, but before he could type out a message, his ‘date’ was arriving at the table.

++

The date was going terribly.

Harry couldn’t focus on anything Tessa was saying. 

His mind was elsewhere, his eyes constantly flicking to his phone.

He was hyper-aware of the paparazzi, more so than usual, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force himself to feign interest in the conversation.

It didn’t take long for Tessa to notice.

With a scowl on her face, she clinked her fork against the plate in frustration.

“You could at least try to be interested in what I’m saying. We’re on a date, and you’re not treating it like one.”

Harry blinked, setting his phone down. 

His usual cool, composed demeanor was nowhere to be found when he replied sharply, “I’m not treating it like a real date because it isn’t. Public Relations managers don’t set up dates—they set up business opportunities that make them money.”

Tessa’s expression tightened, though she was careful to maintain an air of professionalism. 

Cameras were everywhere, after all.

“Asshole,” she muttered under her breath, low enough that only he could hear.

Harry scoffed, running his tongue over his teeth, “If you typically start relationships with a signed contract, I guarantee you that’s not a great start.”

His stomach churned. 

He could barely take more than a few bites of his meal without feeling nauseous.

The rest of the breakfast was as awkward as expected. 

And yet, they still had to end it with a hug and a kiss on the cheek—nothing inherently intimate, but in the context of this situation, it would be spun into something far bigger than it was.

The moment he was in his car, he peeled out of the parking lot, desperate to get away from the flashing cameras.

But the entire drive home, he was texting.

H: Please, please call me when you’re out of your massage.

H: Nut, I will explain everything to you. I promise.

H: It wasn’t anything. I promise I have an explanation.

H: Call me, please.

For the first few hours, he tried to remain optimistic.

But Harry knew deep tissue massages didn’t last four hours.

By that point, he knew. 

She had seen the photos.

He tried calling.

It rang twice, offering a flicker of hope—but then it stopped. 

She hadn’t blocked him, and while he hadn’t truly believed she would, the lack of an answer still cut deep.

Then he went online.

The breakfast date was trending in the top ten by the afternoon.

The photo of him kissing Tessa’s cheek was the headline image.

So she had seen it.

Harry knew blowing up her phone wouldn’t help. 

He needed to respect her boundaries.

She clearly didn’t want to talk to him.

But he just wanted a chance to explain.

If they weren’t in different cities, he’d be at her door. 

And if he didn’t have a meeting later that he cannot bail on, he’d be on a plane to her by now.

Harry gets this heart-wrenching feeling, and he’s really never felt it but once before.

That had been when YN had ended things with him.

[nin-twst]

Welcome to Marga- I Mean- Maquiaville!

Part 2

SUMMARY: Yu gets a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity to accompany Vil to a prestigious film festival! That is to say... What horrors will ruin her somewhat peaceful school life this time?

A/N: asdl;kfjasd;lkfjs omfg i made it very rushed bc i was trying to finish this b4 classes start anyways drink water have fun enjoy <3333

(also there are refs to main fic oc lore so just lmk if u need some context/a quick reminder :))) )

start · < previous · next >

Yu stilled at Vil’s words. Orders. Plural.

“Clothes for us?!” Ace exclaimed. “What are you talking about?”

“Exactly as it seems.” Vil put his hands on his hips. “You all are getting your own set of clothes from Luxe. If you’re going to be walking around with me, you can’t be dressed like… that.”

“What’s wrong with our uniforms??”

Vil just glanced at them, scanning them from top to bottom. “Is it not obvious enough?”

“Me wearing Luxe…” Jamil muttered. “I could have never imagined…”

Ace chimed in, agreeing with the vice housewarden. But, Yu wasn’t as agreeable. In fact, she noticed that Azul was probably following her line of thought.

What did they have to do in return?

Sure, it was nice of Vil to do something as generous as giving them luxury brand clothes for free. But then again: Night Raven College student, remember? Nothing was ever that straightforward. Azul’s paranoia was probably right this time; something that expensive doesn’t just get written off as a freebie. 

“…I’m sorry,” Azul adjusted his glasses. “But I cannot accept that offer.”

Ace spluttered. “What?! What are you talking about?!”

“Something that expensive is never free. I’m sure Vil must have some of offer in his mind. I cannot simply accept this without knowing the full terms of service.”

“Yeah, sorry, but I have to agree.” Yu shrugged. “I don’t feel comfortable accepting something like this for free.”

“Good thing it’s not for free, then.” Vil snapped, causing the employees to start giving them their outfits. “I have many tasks for you four to fulfill while you accompany me during the festival.

He continued to explain as she was shoved behind a curtain, clothes hanging on a rack to her left. “Since this is a high profile event, I must be assigned bodyguards for my safety. Alas, having bulky bodyguards surrounding me is not good for my reputation.”

“Safety is important,” Jamil’s voice sounded from somewhere further away. “If anything, that would be a normal entourage for such a high profile event.”

“Nevertheless,” Vil continued, “That is where you three come in. While the public will see you guys simply as friends accompanying me, you will be in charge of my safety.”

“Three?” Ace shouted. “What about the magicless over there?”

It was quiet, but she could hear him click his tongue. “I was getting there. The prefects hall be my cameraman. He has a good sense of photography, given the ghost camera photos and her Magicam.”

“I don’t have a Magicam?” Yu was the first to step out of the changing area, immediately being rushed by the employees so that they could fix her hair.

Vil stepped out right after, giving her outfit an appraising look. “Your friend has one, and I recall some pictures you took during the VDC. It caught my eye.”

“Oh, is that why you started following her? She started freaking out when she saw that the Vil Schoenheit was following her.”

“…Of course.” Vil’s head was turned away from her as his hair was getting fixed. She squinted in suspicion. That sounded… off. 

Whatever.

As they all continued their idle chatter, everyone soon finished getting dressed with Vil’s stamp of approval after some small adjustments. 

“Man, this is sick!” Ace twisted his torso from side to side. “It’s such a perfect fit!”

“Of course,” the designer replied. “After reading your profiles, we made sure to make the perfect fit for both your build and personalities!”

“Profiles?” Jamil raised an eyebrow. “What profiles?”

The designer blinked. “Did you… not know?”

“We were unaware of the preparation done for this order.” Azul answered.

Ace slumped in on himself. “I’d rather not know what he chose to write about me…”

“Well-”

The designer went into the details of each design, and Yu had to admit she was impressed at his accuracy. Professionals really do know what they’re doing. Even her own outfit, while simpler compared to the others, reflected her practicality and self-confidence.

Next came Vil’s accessories as refreshments arrived. 

“An apple?” Grim commented. “Why’s it an apple of all things?!”

“Legend has it that the Beautiful Queen gave an apple to a young girl to make her dreams come true,” Vil responded. “Her kind, pure heart earned her the favor of Her Majesty.”

Yu hummed, diving into her own head to compare the two tales. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs… The legend of the Beautiful Queen… This surely was a twisted wonderland.

Heh.

“Guess that counts you out, huh?” Ace nudged the magical beast, who carefully retaliated with a smack in the face.

“Along with this outfit, the pair make quite a perfect match for the Beautiful Queen remake,” Vil continued on despite their bickering.

“So where’s our bags, huh?” Ace joked. “There’s no way we could afford something like that if we can’t even buy the clothes!”

“You do not need one, so you are on your own.” Vil huffed. “At least show a motivation to work.”

“Exactly.” Azul snapped. “Those who don’t work don’t eat, so they say.”

Do they? She didn’t think that necessarily applies in the case of luxury goods, but she wasn’t going to comment. They can have fun with those exorbitant prices. 

“Then I shall buy those shoes.” Huh? What were they talking about and why was Azul buying something? What’d she miss? 

“2,000 thaumarks?!” Ace exclaimed. “Imagine the reaction of your customers when they learn you spent their money on some expensive shoes?”

“Why is the merman buying shoes?” Yu whispered, earning a choked laugh from Jamil. 

Bidding the employees goodbye, they headed towards the next store. Where to next, she wondered. Food? More clothes?

“This is Félicité Cosmetics, isn’t it?!” Azul gasped.

…Makeup?

“Of course. They are one of the top cosmetic brands,” Vil commented. “Their all-natural ingredients and strive for better technology are perfect for catering to the elite.”

Yu took a slow walk around the shop, letting their voices fade into the background. All kinds of makeup was being displayed, but it was obvious that they were collaborating with the film festival. She picked up one of the bottles of lip gloss to inspect it closer. She had to admit it was some top quality stuff. 

“Would you like some assistance?” One of the employees walked up to her, smile on their face.

“Ah-” She put the bottle down. “Just looking. Vil’ll probably have some stuff for us anyways.”

“How about trying it out?” They gestured to a similar set to the one they gave to Vil. “A quick color match won’t hurt, right?”

Yu squinted. “What’s the catch?”

They leaned in. “We are very short-staffed… Given my instincts, perhaps you could help your friends perfect their look?”

“The cost for the trial?”

“Free of charge!”

“Deal.”

With very flimsy permission, she started experimenting with the given cosmetics. It had been a long time since she had to try and make herself look decent. When was the last time? Her wedding? No, there must have been a party or something that happened more recently…

“But- Do we really have to do something so time consuming?!” Ace shouted, catching her attention.

Vil gestured towards her. “It doesn’t have to be. Look- The prefect has done his full face in the time we have been in this store.”

“Huh?”

Azul leaned in to inspect her work. “A splendid job… Why don’t you assist me with my makeup, then? We must reach Vil’s standards, after all…”

Jamil nodded. “I can do the basics, but it would help to have your apparent expertise.”

“My what now?”

Vil huffed, a slight smile forming on his face for the briefest of moments. “It appears we have a hidden gem on our hands. Good work, Prefect.”

Yu was so confused. What about her makeup was so extraordinary????

Whatever. If she dwelt on it for too much longer, she might have an aneurysm. Boys will always be boys, she guessed. 

[realmsofdreams]

when it was bad, your face kept me alive

pairing: cregan stark x fem!reader

summary: you and cregan stark were bound by a betrothal forged in childhood. he was your first love, the boy with a wolf’s grin who promised you a life of warmth amid the cold of winterfell. you grew up dreaming of a marriage filled with tender moments, only for war to tear him from you before the vows could be spoken.

warnings: emotional angst, themes of war and loss, slow-burn, mild depictions of grief and trauma, heavy emotional weight.

author notes: currently listening to ‘goodbye brother by ramin djawadi’, and the melody is just so sad yet warm at the same time, it’s making me want to write something truly heartbreaking at the start, with just a flicker of warmth at the end. also, i’m considering opening a taglist! not sure when, but would you want to be tagged in my latest works whenever i post? my requests are open now, so if you have any ideas, don’t be shy and drop them in my ask! i only accept requests through asks, and don’t forget to read my rules too!

“my lady, they’ve returned.”

the guard’s voice cracks through the stillness of the hall, rough like the scrape of steel against stone. you’re seated by the hearth, a half-finished embroidery in your lap, the needle stilled between your fingers. you look up, slow, deliberate, as if moving too fast might shatter the fragile hope you’ve nursed for years.

“who?”

your voice is a whisper, barely audible over the pop of the logs.

“the men from the warband. survivors.”

the guard shifts, his boots scuffing the floor, his eyes avoiding yours.

“lord cregan… they say he’s not among them.”

the needle slips from your grasp, a tiny sound that echoes like a thunderclap in your chest. you stand, the embroidery tumbling forgotten, your hands trembling as they clutch the edge of the table. many moons of waiting, of staring out frost-rimed windows, of tracing the lines of his letters until the ink blurred beneath your fingertips. they’d stopped coming so suddenly, and with them, the rumors of cregan stark, lost in the south, cut down, burned, drowned. dead. they’d said it a thousand times, in a thousand ways, but never with proof. never with his body. and so you’d held on, stubborn as the ice that clings to winterfell’s walls, believing he’d come back to you.

“not among them?”

you echo, your voice sharper now, cutting through the haze.

“then where is he?”

the guard hesitates, his jaw tight.

“they… they don’t know, my lady. they saw him fall, they say. in the thick of it. no one could reach him. the field was chaos, in fire, blood. they’re certain he’s gone.”

gone.

the word lands like a blade between your ribs, your breath catches, and for a moment, the room tilts. but then you straighten, your chin lifting, your eyes burning with something fierce, something stark.

“no,” you say, quiet but firm.

“no, he’s not gone. not until i see him. not until they bring me his bones.”

the guard opens his mouth, then closes, nodding once before stepping back. you don’t cry. you don’t scream. you turn to the window, pressing your palm against the icy glass, and stare out at the snow-dusted courtyard where the survivors will soon stumble through. your reflection stares back—older now, sharper-edged, but still the girl who’d promised her heart to a boy with a wolf’s grin. he’s out there, you tell yourself, as you’ve told yourself every night since he left. alive. waiting.

five years bleed into six, and winterfell grows quieter, heavier, as if the stones themselves mourn him. you move through the days like a ghost, tending to the keep, smiling thinly at the servants, deflecting the lords who whisper of new betrothals.

they don’t understand.

they didn’t see the way cregan looked at you the day he rode out, his hand warm on your cheek, his voice steady, promising he’d come back to make you his wife. you’d been children when the betrothal was sealed, two small figures beneath the heart tree, giggling through vows you barely understood. but it had grown into something real, something that rooted deep in your soul. he’d been your first love, your only love, and you his.

his chambers remain untouched, a shrine to that promise. his furs still draped over the chair, his sword rack empty but polished, his letters stacked neatly on the desk. you sit there sometimes, late at night, running your fingers over the parchment, imagining his voice in the words.

“i dream of you, even here. keep the fire lit for me.”

you do. you always do.

the sixth winter is the harshest yet, you’re in his chambers again, wrapped in one of his old cloaks, when the horn sounds low, mournful note that reverberates through the keep. you freeze, the cloak slipping from your shoulders. footsteps pound outside, voices rising, and then the door bursts open.

“my lady!”

it’s the same guard, older now, his face flushed beneath his helm.

“he’s here. lord cregan, he’s alive. he’s at the gates.”

your breath stops, your knees buckle, and you catch yourself against the desk, his letters crumpling under your hand.

“alive?”

you rasp, the word tasting of snow and hope.

“half-dead, maybe, but alive. he came alone. on foot. gods know how.”

you don’t wait for more.

you’re running, the cloak forgotten, your boots slipping on the stone as you tear through the halls. the courtyard is a blur of torchlight and snow, men shouting, horses snorting, but all you see is him standing by the gates.

he’s taller, broader, his hair longer and matted with dirt, his face carved with scars that weren’t there before. his armor is dented, caked with mud, and he leans on a sword like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

but it’s him.

cregan.

your cregan.

you stop a few paces away, your chest heaving, tears burning behind your eyes. he sees you then, his gray eyes lifting, dull, haunted, nothing like the bright spark you remember. he doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, just stares as if you’re a dream he’s afraid to believe in.

“cregan,”

you whisper, stepping closer, your voice trembling with six years of longing.

“you’re alive.”

he flinches, almost imperceptibly, his jaw tightening.

“i shouldn’t be,”

he says, his voice rough, scraped raw by time and war.

“i didn’t think i’d…”

he trails off, looking away, as if the words are too heavy to finish.

you close the distance, reaching for him, your hands shaking as they hover over his chest.

“you’re home,” you say, soft but fierce.

“you came back to me.”

he doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t meet your eyes either.

“i’m not… i’m not what i was,”

he mutters, so low you almost miss it.

“you shouldn’t have waited.”

the words sting, but you shake your head, tears spilling now, hot against the cold air.

“i knew you weren’t dead. i knew it. i’d have waited a hundred years.”

he looks at you then, really looks, and something in his gaze, something that remembers you, that feels of what you once had. but it’s buried deep, smothered by shadows you can’t yet name. you take his hand, cold and calloused, and lead him inside, past the stunned guards, past the whispers, into the warmth of winterfell. into his chambers.

the door creaks shut behind you. he stands there, a stranger in his own space, his eyes sweeping over the room, the furs, the desk, the letters. it’s all the same, frozen in time, just as he left it. you watch him, your heart aching at the way he moves, slow and deliberate, like he’s afraid to touch anything.

“you kept it,”

he says finally, his voice barely above a whisper. he steps toward the desk, his fingers brushing the edge of a letter, the parchment yellowed with age.

“everything,”

you reply, stepping closer.

“every piece of you. i couldn’t let it go.”

he turns, and for the first time, you see the weight he carries the lines etched into his face.

“out there,” he starts, his voice breaking,

“when it was bad… your face kept me alive. i’d close my eyes and see you, hear you, telling me to come home. but i didn’t think i’d ever…”

he stops, swallowing hard.

“i didn’t think you’d still be here.”

“where else would i be?”

you say, your voice soft but steady, the tears streaming freely now.

“you were my home, cregan. you still are.”

he shakes his head, stepping back, his hand falling from the desk.

“i’m not him anymore. that boy you loved... he’s gone. i’ve done things, seen things… i’m not worth waiting for.”

you move before he can retreat further, grabbing his arm, your fingers digging into the leather of his sleeve.

“don’t you dare say that,”

you hiss, your voice raw with desperation.

“you’re still cregan stark. my cregan. i see you, even if you don’t see yourself.”

he stares at you, his breath uneven, and for a moment, you think he’ll pull away. but then his hand lifts, tentative, trembling, and brushes your cheek, wiping away a tear.

“you’re too good,”

he murmurs, almost to himself.

“too good for what’s left of me.”

“then let me remind you,”

you whisper, leaning into his touch.

“let me show you what we had, what we still have.”

the days stretch into weeks, and he doesn’t leave, but he doesn’t fully return either. he’s a ghost in his own keep, sitting silently by the fire while you talk of the years he missed. you tell him of the winters you endured, the letters you wrote and never sent, the nights you sat in his chambers praying to the old gods.

he listens, always listening, but his responses are clipped, guarded, as if he’s afraid to let himself feel too much.

yet there are small, fleeting moments, where the boy you knew peeks through. when you catch him staring at you across the table, his eyes soft with something like wonder. when his hand lingers on yours after you pass him a cup, the touch warm despite the cold. when he laughs at a story you tell of a clumsy servant, and the sound cracks something open in your chest.

you’re patient.

you don’t push, don’t demand. you simply stay, a constant presence, a tether to the life he left behind. and slowly, so slowly, he begins to thaw. he starts to seek you out, sitting closer by the fire, asking questions about the keep, brushing his fingers against yours without pulling away.

one night, he finds you in his chambers again, reading one of his old letters aloud, your voice trembling with the memory of him.

“stop,”

he says, but there’s no anger in it, only a quiet plea. he’s standing in the doorway, his shadow long against the floor.

you lower the letter, your heart pounding.

“why?”

“because it hurts,”

he admits, stepping inside, his boots heavy on the stone.

“hearing you… it’s like hearing a life i don’t deserve anymore.”

you stand, crossing the room to him, your hands reaching for his face. he doesn’t flinch this time, doesn’t pull away.

“you deserve it,”

you say, fierce and certain.

“you deserve me. us. everything we dreamed of.”

his hands cover yours, holding them against his skin, and his eyes close, a shudder running through him.

“i thought of you every day,”

he confesses, his voice breaking.

“every damned day. i fought to come back, but i didn’t know if you’d still…”

“i’m here,”

you cut in, pressing your forehead to his, your tears mingling with his breath.

“i’ve always been here.”

he kisses you then, sudden, desperate, his lips rough against yours, tasting sorrow and six years of longing. it’s not gentle, not like the shy kisses you’d shared as children, but it’s real, raw, a reclaiming of what war tried to steal.

you cling to him, your fingers tangling in his hair, and when he pulls back, his eyes are brighter, alive in a way they haven’t been since he returned.

“marry me,”

he says, breathless, his hands still framing your face.

“marry me now, before anything else tries to take you from me.”

the godswood is silent, the snow falling soft around you, the heart tree looms above, its red leaves stark against the gray, its face watching as you stand before it, cregan at your side.

you wear a simple gown, gray and fur-lined, a cloak of stark colors draped over your shoulders. he’s in his armor, cleaned and polished, but still bearing the scars of battle, a mirror to the man he’s become. the vows come slow, each word a promise carved into the air, into your souls.

“i am hers, and she is mine,”

he says, his voice strong now, unwavering, his eyes never leaving yours.

“from this day, until my last day.”

“i am his, and he is mine,”

your voice trembling not with fear, but with joy, with love so deep it aches.

“from this day, until my last day.”

he slips a ring onto your finger, a simple, silver, etched with a direwolf and you do the same, your hands shaking as you bind yourselves together. t

he septon steps back, and cregan pulls you close, his lips finding yours beneath the tree, the gods as witness. it’s softer this time, a vow in itself, and when you part, he rests his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“i’m home,”

he whispers, and you feel it, the boy you loved, the man he is, finally yours.

"welcome home, my cregan stark."

[deswhomst]

The prank is so over analysed Remus clearly didn’t hold it against Sirius and Sirius was left to rot in Azkaban for 12 years bc Remus didn’t even consider that there was no way Sirius would betray James like that . So I would say they are pretty equal. No one died and no one else found out about Remus so Remus got over it

i am assuming this ask is in response to this post.

i would like to start off by saying that the matter of the prank is open to interpretation for the most part so we might not see it the same way and that’s fine.

i don’t think that it was ever “clear” that remus didn’t hold it against sirius, even subconsciously. from POA, when remus explains what happened, this is how he described it:

"Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons ... you see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me —"

we call it a prank but that’s not how remus saw it. he said it was a trick and that has negative connotations to it. “a trick which involved me” … it reads to me as if that still bothered him to some extent. also, of course, remus was not going to be mad at sirius in that moment. he reunited with him after thirteen years and he was trying to explain to harry, ron, and hermione that sirius is innocent. it was not the time or place for him to have fully expressed how he really felt about the prank almost two decades ago.

i know that remus suspected sirius to be the spy and that post was one interpretation of why it would come down to it. and it does make sense because, again, i wouldn’t trust someone completely ever again if they betrayed me like that—it’s peter vs sirius to remus, he had more reason to suspect sirius is all i’m saying. this is not hate to sirius. i love sirius. this is just a look into why things happened the way they did.

i also personally don’t think they’re equal. they both thought the other was the spy but only one of them betrayed the other. i don’t understand your statement of “sirius was left to rot in azkaban for 12 years bc remus didn’t even consider that there was no way sirius would betray james like that” . it sounds like you’re saying that it’s remus’ fault that sirius went to azkaban.

let’s go over all facts remus had:

sirius was james and lily’s secret keeper

peter was not

there was a spy amongst them

voldemort found james, lily, and harry (meaning the secret was given to him)

what was he supposed to believe, really? i’m sure it wasn’t easy for him to accept but it was either going to be peter or sirius (two of his best friends) and it just turned out to be sirius (from what remus knew). i just don’t really see how remus was at fault. he definitely has his own flaws that i also love to explore but where this is concerned, i don’t really blame remus.

again, this is just how i see it! you’re of course entitled to your own opinions and interpretations.

[autisticlenaluthor]

'nat loves jackie enough to give jackie the choice to leave' OH MY GOD

especially after her growing up knowing exactly what it is to be trapped in an abusive relationship- either physically/financially (as a teen who cant leave home legally) or emotionally (the way her mum loves her dad so much even though he treats her so badly).

So, for your consideration: Nat (unintentionally) hurting Jackie in some way- maybe she makes a comment about Jackie always having it easy at home (even though she knows it isnt really true) or gets frustrated with her and snaps at her or something else that isn't like really bad or anything but still, Jackie's upset and Shauna seizes on it as a way to show Jackie that Nat really is bad for her.

Except it sort of backfires bc when Shauna encourages Jackie to sleep away from Nat/not join her to hunt/whatever, Nat is like 'That's fine, have as much space as you need' and is just so damn validating- she apologises sincerely and then backs off and Jackie can't get over how easy it is to be mad at Nat- she's not arguing or pushing for forgiveness or avoiding her or anything at all- and she quickly stops being mad at all.

And even when Shauna tries to prod Natalie a bit- perhaps by proxy, making Melissa ask Nat if she doesn't think Jackie was overreacting bc what Nat said wasn't THAT bad, Natalie just sort of shrugs like 'She can be upset, I'm not gonna tell her she can't be mad at me.'

Like Natalie just being so frustratingly accepting and calm that Shauna ends up wanting to hit her just to get a reaction from her.

hope you don’t mind i wrote a little fic for this one

—

“What the fuck would you know about that? You had everything back home!”

The words slip out, harsh and fierce before Nat can stop them. She doesn’t mean them - not really. She doesn’t mean to make Jackie’s chin waver, or her hazel eyes grow so wide she looks like a deer before the gun fires. And she especially doesn’t mean to be the reason for the tears that fill them or the way Jackie has to stare to keep from crying.

But she is.

And fuck, it could kill her.

“Jackie…”

The sound is raspy and low. It’s softer than ever as Nat takes a remorseful step forward, all remnants of whatever ridiculous thing they’d been fighting about quickly forgotten. It doesn’t matter now. She just needs to show her she’s sorry - that she knows it was a stupid, messed up, incorrect thing to say.

But Jackie backs away.

She folds her arms over her chest and shakes her head. All Nat can do is stand there, feeling dumb as ever, as she retracts her tentative hand.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, her lips tugging every which way. “I swear, I didn’t.”

But Jackie still won’t respond. She tightens her arms around herself and tries harder to bite back her tears. It’s the same expression she’d worn when she was finally lucid enough to speak after being brought back in from the cold that night. That restrained hurt she’d been so desperate to keep to herself when she confessed alone to Natalie about the fight and how they’d kicked her out.

“Yeah, whatever,” Jackie finally mumbles. “Asshole.”

She turns and walks away with her head down and arms still folded. It makes Nat want to crumble or yell - she isn’t sure. But she figures even if she knew, it wouldn’t matter. All she can do now is stand, watching, as Jackie goes right back to Shauna.

—

Nat’s sitting in front of their hut, cleaning the rifle with an old rag when Jackie finds her again. Nat holds her breath and looks up at her, trying to search her for signs in Jackie’s expression before she speaks.

Normally, her tells are obvious.

Jackie’s smile never reaches her eyes when it’s fake and if her pep talks are filled with false confidence, her voice will have the smallest flat affect. If she’s angry but trying not to show it, her brow is slightly lowered. And if she has no idea what’s going on but is desperately trying to fake it, she just looks like herself.

For once, Jackie’s impossible to read.

“Hey, what’s-”

“I can’t stay here tonight.”

Jackie’s words are shaky, like she isn’t quite sure of them. She has to sit in the statement for a moment before nodding her head decisively. Nat can’t tell who the gesture is supposed to be for.

“I just- I need space.”

“Oh.”

Nat sets the rifle down. She glances past Jackie and notices Shauna standing outside her own hut. Her arms are crossed and her expression is tight. She’s wearing the slightest sneer - as if to mock Nat from afar. To flaunt in her face once in for all - I’ve got her now. She’s mine.

The thought of it makes something simmer in Nat’s gut.

She’s not something to own.

But Nat keeps quiet. She looks back at Jackie instead and does her best to muster a small smile.

“Yeah, um, that’s cool. I get it.”

Jackie falters. She opens her mouth to speak but comes up blank, which only seems to frustrate her further. Clearly, she’d expected some sort of push back.

“You’re not like… we’ve been together almost every night since…” Jackie won’t say it, but Nat knows what she means. “You don’t…?”

“I’m not in charge of you, Jack,” Nat responds. She chuckles softly and does her best to focus on Jackie - not the seething ball of fire behind her. “You can have time away if that’s what you need.”

Jackie swallows. She considers for a moment before nodding once more.

“O- okay,” she says. “Thank you.”

—

Jackie lays flat on her back, wide awake as she stares up at the makeshift ceiling.

Shauna’s arms are wrapped around her - they always are if they find themselves together now. But for as familiar as it is, Jackie can’t get herself to relax.

It’s just Shauna, she thinks, mentally kicking herself for being so withholding. It’s the person who always used to hold her like this - who would stay up past midnight on the phone with her, whispering so she wouldn’t get caught using the landline in the kitchen. It’s her best friend. Was her best friend.

Jackie shifts, sighing as she looks at the arm around her.

Shauna’s hold is tight now. Restrictive.

It makes Jackie open her mouth every time she needs more air - biting at the sky like she can’t get enough oxygen without physically devouring it. It all makes her think about the sharpness in Shauna’s tongue and the ferocity that’s been in every word since that fight in the cabin.

She’d tried to hide it for a while. She’d kept it under wraps as Jackie recovered - her apology replaced with mundane acts of service she figured Jackie would appreciate. And for the first few weeks, Jackie could tell herself that was enough. Shauna was still something like her friend, even if Nat was warmer. And she was familiar, even if Nat’s unknown kindness was something Jackie kept gravitating towards. She wasn’t truly bad.

Jackie clung to the narrative with all she had until summer came and with it, Shauna’s unbridled anger.

As Jackie lays beneath it now, she can feel it radiating into her skin like some kind of toxin. It makes her think back to Natalie and their fight from before - how quickly she was to let Jackie leave the same way Shauna did, and how she never fought back when Jackie walked away.

I’m not in charge of you.

You can have time away.

Jackie scoffs. Does Nat really have to be in charge to show that she cares? Does there have to be some sort of fucked up power dynamic for her to give a shit over her girlfriend leaving?

Jackie wants to believe it. She wants to cling to the voice in her head telling her that Nat doesn’t give a shit - that she’d be fine to see her walk out and never return. But the further Jackie spirals, the more she knows it isn’t true.

Because she did walk away once.

She walked away and when Shauna didn’t care, Nat did. She told her I���m sorry so many times Jackie lost count, even though it was never her fault. She stayed for weeks while Jackie recovered - when she picked fights because it was all she could do, stuck in that ratty old bed, and never let herself stoop to that level. Even when Jackie tried to push her away, she wouldn’t let herself become cruel.

More than that, she never let herself stop caring.

As Jackie gives Shauna one last glance, it hits her.

Shauna let her leave because she hated her. Nat gave her a choice because she loved her.

And when the goggles are removed - Jackie can’t believe she ever got the two confused.

[dandylion240]

Previous/Beginning/Next

Transcript under the cut

All through supper Ryan kept glancing over at Josie, wondering what he could do or say to convince her that something was wrong with Bobby or the necklace or both. He couldn’t explain it well enough to himself, much less to anyone else what he was feeling. He didn’t understand it himself. 

“Tomorrow your Papa and I will be late coming home from the city so you will go to Hayle’s after school,” Evan said, sitting his glass down on the table.

They both nodded.

“Are you two going on a date after the appointment?” Josie asked.

Glancing over at his husband Evan nodded “we plan to but that depends on how Papa feels after his appointment.”

“Do you think I could go over to Bobby’s instead?” Josie asked. “He said that his mom could bring me home around eight. Please can I? I promise to do my homework.”

Jayden choked on his food, coughing hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. But it was Evan who answered her.

“We haven’t met his parents yet and you know the rules,” he reminded her “besides you haven’t been to see Hayle in a while and he’s looking forward to seeing you.”

Slumping back in her chair she looked as if she was going to protest. “Fine, I’ll tell Bobby I can’t go but can we have his parents over sometime?”

“You’re dad and I will discuss it,” Jayden said, having had time to recover from his initial shock. “I’m sure we can come to an agreement but until then why don’t you invite Bobby over after school on Friday?”

“Really?” she grinned at him.

“Will you be up to it?” Evan asked. “You’ve been awfully tired lately.”

“I’m sure I can manage,” he said thinking that the grin on Josie’s face was worth it.

“Thank you Papa,” Josie jumped from her chair and ran over to give him a hug “you’re the best. I just know once you get to know him you’ll like Bobby as much as I do.”

“I’m … trying,” he hugged her tight even though he felt somewhat light headed. Tapping the glowing amethyst “maybe one day you’ll tell me why it does that.”

“Maybe,” she looked down “but I’m sure I won’t have to.” She was sure that her papa would grow to like Bobby and the amethyst would stop glowing.

After supper Ryan followed Josie into her room. Even if no one else noticed, he saw the glow intensify when Jayden touched it. He had to try again. 

“What do you want?” Josie asked coldly, looking up from the book she was reading.

“I know you don’t believe me…”

“Not that again,” she sat up, closing her book. “Why won’t you believe me? The glow is just an effect of negative emotion.”

“Then it should be glowing now,” he pointed.

Lifting it up it did look like a normal amethyst stone. “That doesn’t prove anything,” she said. “Maybe you really don’t dislike Bobby as much as you pretend to. Maybe you’re just acting this way because you want to be like Papa.” 

Not wanting to alienate her further he nodded “maybe you’re right but would you do me a favor.”

She stared at him a moment in silence before nodding “depends upon what the favor is.” She had no intention of not wearing her necklace. 

“Will you talk to Hayle,” he asked. “He knows all kinds of stuff. I bet he could tell you if there’s something wrong with it.”

Rolling her eyes “how many times do I have to tell you? There’s nothing wrong with it?”

“Please” he begged “if he says it’s alright then I’ll trust you and never bring it up again.”

“You promise?” she asked.

“I promise,” he solemnly said, “cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Fine,” she sighed, walking over to give him a hug. “I’ll think about it. I don’t think it’s necessary but I’ll consider it.”

Hugging her back accepting her answer. It wasn’t what he wanted but it was more than he had before. He could only hope she would.

Alone in their room, once the kids were in bed Evan glanced over at Jayden saying, “I’m proud of you,”

“For what?” he asked, watching as Evan moved around the room undressing for bed.

Gathering his discarded clothes he tossed them into the hamper before walking over to Jayden. “For suggesting Bobby come over here,” he said “I know how much you dislike him,”

“I hate disappointing her more,” he said “I’d give anything to like the boy if only to see her smile.”

“And that’s why I love you,” Evan said, taking Jayden’s hands in his and kissing them.

“Oh,” his eyes twinkled, “I thought you loved me for my body.”

“That too,” Evan agreed leaning in close. “If you weren’t in so much pain I’d show you just how much I love you.”

“I’m willing to risk it,” Jayden said, bringing his hand behind Evan’s head.

Groaning Evan pulled away “let’s wait and see what the doctor says tomorrow.”

“We know what he’s going to say,” Jayden’s voice was gruff. “He’s going to recommend another pointless surgery.”

“It’s not pointless,” Evan said, “the last one worked…”

He grunted “for a while but we both know that the next one might not work and I could wind up in a wheelchair permanently or in constant pain.” He didn’t like either option and would prefer to keep going as he was, enjoying the good days and enduring the bad.

“It may not be that bad,” Evan said, trying to look on the bright side. “It could be something simple like a pulled muscle.”

Jayden shook his head but his lips twitched as he fought the smile Evan’s optimism never failed to give him. “Let’s not worry about it tonight,” he suggested tugging on Evan’s hands and pulling him down to the bed. Rolling over he pinned Evan beneath him “now where were we?”

“I think right about here,” Evan raised his head to meet Jayden and lost himself in the moment.

[lunammoon]

I've decided to participate in @veilguard-appreciation-week only I'm challenging myself to not write about the character that the prompt is obviously implying.

Day One

Prompt: The Grand Necropolis/Curiosity/"Close Your Eyes Take A Deep Breath"

Summary: Rook takes Bellara to the Grand Necropolis to show them where they grew up and makes a startling discovery.

Word Count: 1,478

Read on AO3

Rook had never struggled to navigate the Grand Necropolis on their own, even when their magic hadn’t manifested they still used Hyacinth. It was hard to verbalize how exactly they had navigated it to other people.

Most people either struggled to understand that the Grand Necropolis didn’t follow the same spatial rules as the rest of the world, or if they did understand that, they assumed that there were no rules at all.

The trick was to accept that the Grand Necropolis did in fact follow spatial laws, but they were its own laws. Understanding those laws was key in order to get from place to place. 

To navigate the Necropolis without getting turned around in circles. It was important to first know the right path and then accept that there were no shortcuts, and anything that seemed like it could be a shortcut was likely lying to you.

It was mostly safe as long as you knew what you were doing and where you were going, and Rook knew both.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t have invited Bellara to come with them.

“Careful-” Rook cautioned, holding Bellara’s hand and keeping her from taking a step too far. 

Rook leaned over the cliffside and frowned. They kicked a rock. It disappeared into the mist, and there was a sound a second or so later.

“It’s not that far down.”

“Sure, but you don’t want any of that mist in your lungs.”

“Why not?”

“Causes night terrors.”

“What?” Bellara took a step back.

“You’ll be fine. It’s heavier than normal air. That’s why it’s sunk to the bottom. As long as you jump down there, it can’t hurt you.” Ezra turned their head, “We should go this way instead.”

“Right.”

The two of them walked along the stone cliffs of the outer edges of the Necropolis. Every now and then, they would come across a plant or stone or some other aspect of the Grand Necropolis and Bellara would ask questions and Rook would enthusiastically answer those questions and then Bellara would reply and the two of them ventured deeper and deeper, closer to their final destination.

“Rook?” Bellara suddenly stopped. “Is this a date?”

“It can be,” Rook replied. They pulled themself up a nearby rockface with Bellara close behind. “You’ve shown me around Arlathan, so I thought I’d show you around the Necropolis- careful.” Rook ducked under a tree limb.

“Oh.”

Rook froze. They thought that it had been clear that it was a date. Was it not clear? Did Bellara think they had tricked her? Tricked her and brought her down into the Grand Necropolis? 

“Is that alright? It doesn’t HAVE to be a date, if you don’t want it to be. I just thought- I didn’t even think to ask, I thought it was- I’m sorry.”

“No!” Bellara said quickly, grabbing Rook’s hand, “No, it’s fine. It’s- this is nice.”

“Oh.” Rook nodded. “Good. I’m glad.”

“Next time-”

“Next time, I’ll tell you it’s a date and not just ask you to come with me somewhere. I promise. Come on, I want to show you something.”

It was just a little further. 

Rook breathed in the taste of Ginger and Rose.

There was a small clearing. It originated from an older part of the Necropolis. And it was  part that had been inaccessible for a while, and the inscriptions on the headstones were worn away. .

Outside of the headstones, the small clearing was full of trees, flowers, and likely due to people speculating on who was buried here and when, the place was full of Curiosity wisps.

One of them floated above Rook’s open palms, and another flew around their head, and some of the others hovered around Bellara.

It made sense of course. Rook had been in and out of this nook constantly as a child. They knew them. They did not know Bellara.

“Oh! Wow!” Bellara opened her palms the way Rook had. “What is this place?”

“No one knows for certain. The Necropolis shifts around enough that sometimes a room will be gone for centuries, even decades, and then return. We’re- I mean, I’m pretty sure that it’s from the Exalted Age. Because of the shape. But everyone seems to have their own opinion of it. They were old in the middle of the Blessed Age when they were found, but besides that… It’s a mystery. Everyone wants to solve it, and no one knows how to.”

“And that’s what attracts the Wisp?”

“Indeed. Curiosity loves company. I used to go here all the time when I was little.”

“You sure do know your way around. You didn’t get turned around once.”

“As long as you’re careful, know what you’re doing, and go pretty slow, you can get pretty deep into the necropolis and find your way back.”

“You make it look so easy. Even Emmrich has to ask the dead for directions.”

“His corpse whispering is amazing. I always wanted to see it in person. But his classes fill up so quickly. I never got the chance.”

One of the wisps around Bellara spun around her head once, then twice, and then hovered a greeting in front of Rook, who tilted their head to the side and bobbed it once in reply.

“Do you talk to wisps?” 

“They’re not great at giving directions unless you’re fine with running into walls. And that’s if they can focus. They’re not great at giving directions unless you’re fine with running into a wall or seven. I just know how to navigate because I grew up here.”

“Didn’t Emmrich?”

“Emmrich came to the Grand Necropolis when he was nine or ten or so. My parents were dead from the start.”

Bellara froze. .”Oh-”

Rook realized what they had said. “No, I mean- skeletons.”

“What?”

“Baby me. Found in the necropolis. Found and raised by skeletons. My parents are skeletons.”

“That’s-”

“You can say its weird.”

“No, it’s not- well, it is a little bit. But it’s not- What? How?”

“A little less than thirty years ago, someone left an infant on the grave of a child who’d died in 6:07. Her parents, who’d outlived their daughter, unfortunately, didn’t stop upkeep her grave even after they themselves died. They considered me their second child. I used to think of her as my big sister.”

“Why’d you stop?”

“When I was eleven, I woke up one morning and realized that I was older than she ever got to be. It was hard to think of her as my big sister anymore. Mind if I show you? The Ingellvar plot shouldn’t be too far from here.”

“Oh!” Bellara nodded, “Yes! I mean no- I don’t mind.”

“Great!”

The two of them walked past a handful of crypts and gardens, the wisps eventually leaving them and going back to the mystery clearing.

“See, it’s not that far. The Hypogeum is right-” Rook stopped and Bellara stopped too. “What?” 

Rook stared down at the sheer drop. A massive square basalt pit, it’s bottom faintly obscured by mist.

“Where do we go next?” Bellara asked. “Left or right, or do we climb?”

“This isn’t supposed to be here. There’s not- there’s not supposed to be a gap here like this.”

“Maybe it shifted?”

“Maybe,” Rook replied. “Except, if it had, there wouldn’t have been a gap like this. There would have been something else in its place. But it isn’t- it’s empty. Like it’s been-” like it had been removed. But how? Why? Without anyone noticing? Unless they were the one to notice? But how had no one noticed it as it was happening?

“Maybe we could go another way? What’s supposed to be here?”

“The Ingellvar plot.”

“Oh.” Bellars stared down into the pit. “Oh no. Rook I’m-”

“My parents,” Rook spoke quickly, “And my namesake and the gardens and where I grew up and-” they took a deep breath and shook their head. “No. Sorry. It’s fine. I mean, no, it’s probably not. But it could be fine. I probably am just a bit rusty with navigation. The Necropolis can be finicky? The rooms might’ve moved without me noticing.”

“But you said that the necropolis doesn’t normally leave gaps like this.”

“No,” Rook replied. They started back down at the gap. “No, it doesn’t.”

Rook was fairly certain that their impression of a person who was not panicking was subpar.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Bellara asked.

“I had this whole idea for the end date destination, but now I’m at a loss. I don’t know where to go from here.”

“We could tell Myrna and Vorgoth.”

Rook took in a shaky breath. “Sure. That sounds- sure. And then, we should go back to the Lighthouse.”

“You don’t want to stay around here a little bit longer?”

Rook stared back down into the open archway that led to nothing."I- no"

[aya-keating]

Get the phone. Check the messages. Put the phone back. 

It felt simple enough, right? Aya and Juno had been working on this since the day they met with Dax. Dax had left all of her questions unanswered and Aya wasn’t the type to just accept things. 

The bass of the music resonated within the confines of the young woman’s body. The quake inside of her was unsettling to her. This isn’t anxiety… it’s the music… it’s a fucking party, she kept reminding herself as she zigzagged through the dancing bodies with Juno leading the way. Her sweaty hand was secured in the hand of her friend. She felt like she was going to vomit, but she would make it through this. The VIP room was in sight now, she could see some of the familiar faces: Milo, Luka, Paolo, Jace, fucking Dax… and Lotus. Her heart dropped when she caught the eye of her friend. She felt like she was betraying Lotus in some way. But this was a hard situation. She pushed that guilt to the pit of her stomach and flashed the group a dazzling smile. 

The banter, the laughter, the moving bodies as they shuffled onto the dance floor. She gave Milo a congratulatory hug; it was a little tight, but Milo wouldn’t notice, and she needed some of his calm for this next step. She made sure all of the girls left. Juno had a job to do…and so did she. Aya smiled at one of Dax’s guys who gripped her arm, trying to lead her to the dance floor with him. “Later,” she lied, motioning to Milo. “I promised him a dance first.”  He bobbed his head as he danced towards the first girl he could grab. He was disgusting, too. 

Aya slipped behind the curtain, her stomach knotting. She hated letting Juno be alone with the creep. Get the phone. Check the messages. Put the phone back. She reminded herself. The curtain began to sway and soon Juno’s hand revealed itself with the phone in her grasp. Aya quickly grabbed it, holding it to her chest as she fled the VIP area, trying to conceal the phone from sight. Be cool, don’t look paranoid, she thought to herself as she swayed in between the dancing people, trying to keep from knocking into someone. 

“Aya! Aya! Over here!” someone yelled towards her, but she kept going. Down the hall, through the door, into the girl’s bathroom, into the big stall. She locked the door, her heart hammering wildly against her chest. She felt like she was going to throw up any moment now. 

With sweaty hands, she tapped the screen to reveal the lockscreen. FACE ID attempted to connect. Fuck, fuck, fuck!! “No, no, no,” she sobbed, trying to keep it together. How long did she have? A minute? Two minutes? Five tops? “Breathe, Aya,” she whispered to herself, requesting to use the passcode with a trembling finger. The keypad spread across the screen. She thought long and hard for a moment. She didn’t want to lock herself out of the phone before she even got in it. 

“Don't overthink it,” she thought, closing her eyes for a minute to try and silence the chaos in her head. “Don’t overthink it.” 

Her thumb slid across the keypad typing in the following: 010902. So the scum had a heart. His daughter’s birthday. The guilt of excluding Lotus with this devious plan tried to attack her thoughts, but she pushed them away. She didn’t have the time to have a guilty conscience right now. She went straight to messages and typed in Claire’s name to retrieve the thread. No contacts with the name populated. But messages began flooding the screen of conversations about her sister. She wanted to read every fucking lie, but again, no time. Now, Aya typed in her sister’s number to see if it would pull up the thread. Again, nothing. Did he erase all contact with her? Aya’s heart began racing, panic was setting in. Was this all for nothing? Had Juno put herself in the lion’s den for no fucking reason? 

A sob escaped Aya’s mouth and her breath was labored. The door to the bathroom opened and laughter was heard on the other side of the stall. Aya froze in silence until the girls abandoned the room. Aya was about to give up but something told her to check the voicemails. There was a list of recordings. She bypassed the ones with names and looked at the numbers. She found one from a number ending in 4875—the same as Claire’s number and the timestamp was March 7th, the day before the story hit the media about Dax. 

Aya pressed play and pulled the phone to her ear. The slurred voice of her sister flooded the speaker and Aya had to clasp her hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t sob. She needed to hear every word her sister had to say: 

It’s me, Dax. Claire. I know what you did. I saw you. I saw you with her. You hurt her. You took advantage of her. Forced yourself on her. You asshole. I thought I was special? You said I was…you said that’s why you had to have me…because you couldn’t wait… you needed to feel me… you liar! I’m nothing to you… I’m nothing… just another body. Another trophy of yours. How many of us are there? I hate you. I hate you so fucking much. I’m going to tell. I’m going to tell everyone what you did, what you are! You won’t get away with this. Do you hear me? I’m going to destroy you, Dax Holloway. 

Claire’s voice faded and sobs could be heard on the other end of the speaker before the call ended. Her sister was crying and this made Aya cry too. Dax had assaulted her sister. Where the hell was Claire at? Did she leak the story about Dax?  Aya’s heart was hammering so loudly now. She didn’t even realize she was crying as she walked out of the bathroom, the phone openly in her hand now. It felt like she was in a fog. Her sister’s voice echoed in her head. “I’m going to tell—I thought I was special—Another body… a trophy.” 

“Are you okay?” someone asked, it was girl, maybe. Aya moved back to the VIP area. She walked up to the couch where Juno and Dax were joined at the mouth. She laid his phone down, trying her damned hardest to stay composed, even though her makeup was smeared across her face. “Juno,” she said sternly. Dax didn’t react, he kept groping her friend, thrusting his tongue down her throat. “Get the fuck off her!” Aya screamed, her heart racing, she felt like she would throw the organ up. 

The music went silent in the club, the lights turned on, cops descended upon the area, a detective holding a warrant. Juno jumped off the couch and ran to Aya, holding onto her friend as the officers came into the VIP room, talking to Dax… he was being read his Miranda rights. Aya walked away from the scene, her head still in a haze. Juno was right behind her, grabbing her hand to turn her around. 

“What did you find out?” 

Aya shook her head sadly. “He raped her,” she sobbed, her hand on her stomach. “I think he fucking raped my sister… I don’t know where she is. But she threatened him. She said she was going to tell… Oh, God, Juno… what if he hurt her?” Juno’s arms were tightly around Aya’s trembling body; Aya hugged her, realizing Juno was trembling too. Aya couldn’t imagine how hard her exchange with Dax had just been on her. Aya held her friend tightly, trying to heal her. Her own fears could wait until later. Suddenly, Aya caught the eye of Lotus, staring at the scene behind them. Her heart ached for Lotus, too. 

[legendoftherisingtide]

the worst period of my life and now my comfort manga is ending 👍

[dilutedapplejuice]

I think if I ever met a system/anyone with DID, OSDD, etc I would never actually be able to tell… I have really bad memory for details about people so I wouldn’t really notice many if any discrepancies. I also can’t recognize personalities as anything concrete (unless it’s super obvious), two totally different alters could be out on the same day and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Worst I’d interpret would be a mood swing.

Especially since most systems’ alters mask as the host- some r better than others but usually the ones worse at masking aren’t out very often (to my knowledge)

[wolvebonez]

Why is Tigerstar 2 turning ShadowClan into America

[kitimeq]

✿‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ say yes to heaven 🤍 sylus 秦 ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ ✿

pairing ✿‧₊˚: lads sylus x reader

summary ✿‧₊˚: 3+1: three times Sylus suppresses his desire to have you, and one time his control finally snaps. sprinkled with relationship fluff, size difference, love confessions and whole lot of overthinking from our fav crow boy.

word count ✿‧₊˚: 13.6k (a whole ass freaking novella, grab a snack.)

tropes ✿‧₊˚: 18+, 3+1, smut, but packed with feelings, fluff, est. relationship, body worship, plot with porn??, love confessions, sylus is obsessed, and so in love, first times implied, p in v, size difference, (by size difference i mean sylus is freaking huge, like a mountain of a man, so big it actually makes him nervous bc u so small, every single one of us would be a small dot next to him that’s my personal headcanon, have you seen his ib memory? yeah, yeah u have this man HUGE), anyways what is protection they don’t use it don’t be like them, needy sylus, pet names, everything is consensual, awooo.

author’s note ✿‧₊˚: hello! i was cooking this one for so much time, i hope it’s not too boring! I’m not a native speaker so i apologize in advance for all mistakes or repetitions. I was also trying to write inclusive y/n and i hope i succeeded. I also did not imagine y/n to have a specific body type — i truly believe that no matter your size, next to sylus you would look like a crumb. as small as a pebble. believe me, i’ve studied the sacred texts (night of secrecy, grassland romance, innocent birdcage do i really have to keep on listing the memories where he enormous u get the gist). so!! i hope you’ll enjoy it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა

!!do NOT read if you’re not 18+!!

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ ݁

Sylus usually considered himself to be a patient man.

He occasionally did act on his desires—he could admit that much—but when it came to the things he truly cared about, the things he treasured, he didn’t mind the wait. He knew that the best things in life came at a price, and if the currency was time, in this case he was willing to pay in full. He knew it was worth it. That you were worth it.

You, who accepted him as he was, with all his flaws and imperfections, making his life better every day you were together. You, who were so brave, gentle, and kind that you made him want to become a better man too—just so that one day, he could say he truly deserved you. You, who he had completely fallen for, unable to imagine a world in which he wouldn’t make the same choice of courting you all over again.

That’s why he wanted nothing more than to treasure and respect you in every aspect of life—including intimacy and his own desires. And to be perfectly candid, he had plenty of those from the very moment he laid eyes on you. But he wanted to act like a gentleman, never rushing you into anything. He was patient, waiting for you to make the first move. He wanted to be sure you trusted him, that you weren’t afraid of him—or of the things he wanted to do to you if he ever got the chance.

And even after several months of officially dating you, he still stuck to his resolve, despite the unhealthy hunger growing inside him. He was adamant that you make the first move, even though the waiting was slowly killing him from the inside—his desires burning through his skin, desperate to see the light of your glossy eyes, to feel you squirming beneath him, and to hear your soft moans and whimpers, letting him know that you wanted him too.

He wanted you passionately. He didn’t desire anyone or anything else in his life. He had never thought of anyone else in such terms, which made the wait much more bearable, fun even. The occasional tension in the air only made things between you even more intriguing. Sylus wondered when the moment would come for you to finally let him explore you, taste you, just as he had wanted since the first time he held you in his arms.

He was a patient man. An inquisitive one, but patient nonetheless.

But it was just getting too much for him to handle lately.

He wondered if you were doing this on purpose. Were you trying to make him go feral with want, push him into some action? Maybe you were just too shy to ask for something more, and decided to coax him to take you right then and there? Was it an act? A part of your meticulous, sneaky plan?

He felt his sanity slowly dissipating.

“Sylus? Please, hurry up and help me, we have to go!” You turned your head to look at him, your lips puckered in an adorable pout, and your feet anxiously shifting from one to the other, the sound of your beautiful black heels clicking against the floor of your apartment. The red soles didn’t go unnoticed by him.

And what didn’t go unnoticed as well was how breathtakingly gorgeous you looked, dressed in your tight black gown that accentuated the figure he was obsessed with.

However, he was a strong man. He could look at you in a dress and not get an instant boner; he wasn’t some mere beast. But when you asked for his help, he realized that life hadn’t prepared him for everything you had up your sleeve.

Because right now, you stood before him, your back turned toward him, holding your hair in your hands and exposing a zipper that you wanted him to take care of. A zipper that ran from your neck down, down, down to your red lace panties, which peeked out from beneath the unzipped black material.

He turned his head upward at the sight, his hand reaching for the bridge of his nose, a silent prayer escaping his lips. If God existed, He was not merciful this time.

He could also clearly see that you weren’t wearing a bra, the soft skin of your back exposed, slightly hidden under the material of the dress. Hadn’t he suffered enough?

He wanted to bark. Badly.

Oh fuck, was he really going to bark?

He hoped not.

“Sy?” The nickname almost made his legs buckle. He needed a moment to calm himself after just one look at you, and it seemed to take him much longer than what would be considered natural. The impatience in your voice betrayed your desire not to be late for the opera performance, which he had promised to take you to today. He gulped audibly and realized that you had no idea what you were doing to him—and that scared him.

If you were this dangerous unintentionally, how will he survive when you’ll finally, consciously decide to take things further?

“Yes. Yes, of course, sweetie.” He managed to choke out and stepped closer to you, your delectable scent overwhelming his senses. He tried to hide the slight tremble in his hands as he reached for the zipper at the bottom of your dress. When he zipped you up, he took his sweet time caressing your body with his knuckles, basking in the soft feeling of your skin and the dangerous touch of the lace of your panties. He hoped you couldn’t hear his heartbeat—or see the pink in his cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he had blushed, but now he was sure of it, judging by the warmth on his face.

He was hopeless. Utterly ruined.

“There you go.” He said quietly, caressing your beautiful hair with his fingers, smoothing the creases which appeared after your hold. He brushed it from your neck and planted a slow kiss there, his movements far too composed for someone who was boiling with desire inside.

“Thank you. I couldn’t reach it at all and we’re already short on time.” You put your hand on his head, patting it gently and sighing when he touched your waist. He couldn’t help but squeeze you there, feeling the warmth of your skin through the soft material of your dress. You understood this gesture as teasing and giggled adorably.

“You look magnificent, my dove.” The compliment slipped through his lips, earning him your sweet smile and a kiss on a cheek. He watched as you passed him to grab your purse, going straight to the front door, leaving him behind. Trusting he’ll follow your step, as he always did.

Sylus closed his eyes and touched the very spot on his cheek where your lips had grazed, releasing a sigh that could be interpreted as both contentment and a silent prayer for endurance.

“You coming, Sy?” He could hear you calling for him, and he opened his eyes. His left one shone brightly at him from his reflection on the window. His Evol proved useless when his body already made it abundantly clear what—or whom—he desired the most.

“I fucking wish.” He whispered under his breath, turned around, and walked up to you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he reveled in the weight of your body pressing against him. His ears were graced by your little squeal, that quickly transformed into uncontrollable laughter, a sound he wanted to record and play every time you were away.

You slapped his back playfully and joked about wanting to use your legs once in a while, and he laughed, saying that he just wanted to make sure that he had all he needed with him. Then, he grabbed his coat with his Evol, and used it to slam the door after you both went out. He hoped that the lust he felt, which started to get out of his control, managed to stay behind them.

He waited for so long; how hard could it be to wait for another couple of months?

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Hard.

Tremendously hard, both theoretically and physically, given the reaction of his body upon the contact.

He shifted slightly so that you wouldn’t feel his growing bulge against your core, his hands hovered over your thighs, his cheeks flaming hot. He was about to fucking pass out.

But you were none the wiser, sitting on his body, strangling him with your soft, mouth-watering thighs, practically rubbing yourself against him, and performing your little dance of victory after pushing him to the ground during your sparring.

Normally, he would have laughed with you and treasured your moment of happiness, his senses overwhelmed by pride as he watched you get better and better at self-defense with every practice.

But that was just cruel.

Not only did you show up in that little piece of fabric covering your breasts, something you dared to call a sports bra, its thin straps reminiscent of a fish net, offering NO support whatsoever for your charms, but you also dared to wear that pair of leggings you claimed you had bought with your friend during your last trip to the mall.

And they were leaving nothing for his imagination, your every curve hugged tightly, every dip deliciously emphasized. And fuck, you looked gorgeous in wine red. You knew you did.

“I got it in your color! Do you like it?” You asked upon entering his gym, twirling for him like the most adorable fucking thing he had ever had the pleasure of seeing, your arms up and your hair still untied. He did saw red, and it wasn’t just the color of your clothing.

His color. His girl in his color, he was going absolutely feral.

“I do.” He choked out, and tried to avert his eyes from your posture but lost that battle quickly. “You look stunning. My little gem.” He answered and you dared to look at him sheepishly, your face showing the signs of getting flustered.

“I’m not just a gem anymore. I’m a professional fighter.” You playfully punched his shoulder, jumping around and mimicking boxing moves, making him laugh out loud as he grabbed your fists in his hands. He pulled you closer to him and kissed your forehead, his arms wrapping around your frame.

“Is that an apology in advance?” You asked him when his lips left your skin. He smirked, his brow raising.

“Might be. Today we’ll be practicing attacks and knocking down your opponent.”

“Me? Knocking you down?” You looked at him with disbelief, your hands dropping to your sides, already defeated. “I’m doomed. Sylus, can’t I knock down Luke or Kieran instead?” Your cute pout and hands clasped in a begging gesture made him laugh again, as he fixed the bandages on your hands.

“And you think they would be easier to conquer?”

“Yes. Obviously, yes.”

“But they wouldn’t make sure you’re not going to hurt yourself, kitten, and I already know your patterns…” He leaned over you, his hot breath caressing your ear, making you shiver. His hands avoided touching your body. “And weak spots…” A whisper and a gentle bite on your earlobe were enough to send your adrenaline soaring.

“You—!” You jumped from him, like a little kitten, your face flustered and gaze filled with playful threat. “You’re going down mister. You’re SO going dooown.”

And down he went.

Right under your soft body, squashed between your warm tights, looking up at your beautiful lips twisted in an adorable, cunning smirk.

Oh, the way he loved you. The way he wanted to have you. The intensity of that feeling started to suffocate him.

“Okay, you got me, sweetie.” He choked out and tried his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. But nothing about this situation was nonchalant—your soft tights squeezing his waist and your butt pressing on his weak spot almost made him see stars. He grabbed your waist to try to stop your body from moving and gritted his teeth, fighting with himself to not buckle his hips up. “Now, up. I admit defeat.”

Defeat that had to do with the improvement of your skills and the force of your little fists, yes, but also with the way Sylus was distracted by your body, his eyes wandering everywhere during the battle, but not the places he should actually pay attention to.

Apparently, he was a weak, weak man, when the situation concerned you. Weak and impossibly horny.

“Hmm, I’m not sure if I want to.” You answered, a mischievous glint adored your gaze. He drank that expression in.

Beautiful. You were absolutely beautiful, sitting on him, your body sparkling with sweat, face red from the exhaustion. How could he keep his mind from going places? “I think I like you like this.” His eyebrows went up, and cheeks felt a little bit too warm for his liking.

What were you trying to say?

“Yes? Like what, kitten?” His heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest. He knew that you could feel it, one of your hands rested on top of it, stroking his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin through his shirt. He shivered, his body covered in goosebumps, finding the gentle touch too intense, somehow.

“Towering over you.” His breath hitched; his heart almost stopped its beating. “It’s much easier to look at your face when I’m like this. It’s nice.” His heart squeezed instead, your confession turning out to be more touching than teasing, and he cursed himself internally for belittling your interactions and intimacy lately. His mind immediately assumed sexual undertones, where everything you were doing with him, at your own, unique pace should be more than enough for him.

“You like looking at me that much, huh?” He answered, his hand going up to caress your cheek with the back of his fingers. He smiled with content, and he put his hand at the nape of your neck, hoping you’ll understand the implications.

You did. Not a second later you lowered your body so that you were lying on top of him, one of his hands holding you to himself by your waist, pressing you even closer together. He acknowledged how much he loved your full weight on his body, your hearts pressed so close to each other they started beating as one.

You put your hands on his cheeks, smiled down at him, and pressed a small kiss to one of his eyelids, and then to the tip of his nose. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling.

“Of course. You’re my beautiful boy, Sylus.” You whispered to him, a smile adoring your face and he couldn’t help himself. He pulled you close by your neck and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, almost whimpering into your mouth from the intensity of his feelings.

You reciprocated the kiss, not hesitating even for a second, and soon, both of your lips were swollen and glistening, your minds filled with sparkles and cotton.

You were the one to break the kiss, your mind going dizzy, body trembling from the arousal. He could feel it without using his Evol—the desire that raised within you, the fire that now flowed through your veins. His eyes sparkled with anticipation.

One moment and you’ll go pliant against him, melting into his embrace.

One second, and he’ll finally taste heaven, be as close to you as anyone ever has been.

“Y/N, will it be alright if I—” He started speaking, your eyes looking at him from above as you held onto his cheek and neck, caressing his skin with your thumbs, making him feel oh, so cherished. Yet, he didn’t manage to finish the request because a sudden crash from the door opening pierced through the silent room, popping your comfortable bubble in an instant.

You jumped out of his embrace, leaving him cold and yearning, his hands sliding over his face in frustration.

“Boss—”

“Luke, Kieran it better be fucking important.” Sylus hissed through his teeth, and the fact that he didn’t even try to hide his frustration made you huff out a laugh and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand. You didn’t want to laugh at him so openly, hiding how adorable his anger towards boys seemed to you at that moment.

His eyes caught yours, lured by the bubbly sound, and one of the corners of his mouth went up slightly. He raised his hand to your covered mouth and brought your hand down with his fingers, revealing your smile.

“It is, Boss! The Girm Company chairman called and demanded a meeting in thirty minutes.” Luke said quickly, Kieran peeking out from behind his shoulder. “And he didn’t want to take “no” for an answer.” Kieran added, his body now revealed.

You were not sure if Sylus was even listening, his eyes glued to your face, his fingers tracing the line of your smile absentmindedly. He still didn’t raise from the floor of the ring, his posture relaxed, one arm now resting behind his head.

“That bastard.” He answered under his breath, and closed his eyes in annoyance for a second and when he opened them, they were once again glued to you. “If you don’t want me to leave, just say a word.” He said, and put a strand of your hair behind your ear. The back of his hand started a slow caress of your cheek, and you felt embarrassed, knowing that the boys were still looking at you both, waiting for Sylus’s answer.

“It’s okay, Sy. I actually have some errands to run in Linkon so I better get going.” You answered, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his fingers. His breath hitched, eyes following the movement with a longing deep in his chest. “Besides, I’m tired of beating your ass today. Save some dignity for the next time.” You added with a mischievous look, poking his hard chest with your finger teasingly.

The laugh that came out of his chest was sudden—loud, deep, and so sincere that it warmed your chest, your lips spreading in a proud smile. He grabbed your hand off of his chest and brought it to his lips, kissing your fingertips. The mirth in his eyes clearly visible, the affection bare and tangible.

“You are so generous, sweetie. Letting your pray off the hook so easily.” He couldn’t stop smiling even when he was raising to his feet, his hand going to massage his left shoulder. He looked at you and offered you his hand, which you immediately accepted. He helped you stand, his eyes tracing your every move, still unable to look away.

Your body entranced him, your presence lit a fire in his veins. The point where your hands touched warm and almost overwhelming. His desire for more once again proven unquenchable.

“Boys, let him know I’ll be there. It seems that I need to remind him who actually is in the position to make demands.” His voice was now authoritative, followed by the boys’ exclamations of “Will do, boss,” along with two salutes send his way.

And they were gone just as quickly as they had appeared.

“Don’t be too harsh on the chairman. I don’t want to get in the way of your business.” He saw you turn to him with a worried expression on your face, and he leaned down to place a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering on the spot for much longer than necessary.

“Hmm, I’m afraid that’s impossible.” He took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles, looking deep into your eyes. The sadness of you parting ways already blooming inside him. “They cut our time together short, so I’m planning on making them pay for that offense generously.” He smirked and watched you shake your head with disbelief, a small smile gracing your lips.

“I already miss you.” He heard you saying and you surprised him by throwing your arms around his neck, then kissing him almost senseless.

He closed his eyes and returned the kiss, which was starting to border on filthy. His hands grabbed your frame, pressing you closer to him, as his body bent toward you.

When you parted, your breaths were hot and heavy, a string of saliva still keeping your mouths connected. He stared at the filthy sight, his heart pounding in his chest, his boxers starting to become a rather tight fit. You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away gently, your fingers trailing downward until they grazed his abdomen. He gulped audibly and remained still, watching you walk further and further away. He didn’t trust himself to move even an inch, afraid he wouldn’t be able to restrain himself anymore.

“Bye, Sylus. I’ll let you know when I get home safely.” You told him, walking away backwards now, your eyes not leaving his. “And we’ll continue what we started next time, okay, Boss?” The last part a whisper from your sweet lips, almost making him drop to his knees right then and there. You waved at him, shyness visible on your cheeks, and then you left him in the middle of the ring, stunned and filled with excruciating desire to finally have you.

Next time.

He groaned, his hands covering his blushing face, his mind already imagining the things he’ll do to you, only if you let him. God, he hoped that you’ll let him.

He did arrive late to the meeting that day, having to compose himself for much longer than you would have expected. He also made sure the chairman regretted keeping him away from you—your softness, your scent, an addictive drug he never wanted to be deprived of. The audacity to take that from him deserved nothing less than the highest of punishments.

He couldn’t help it; he already missed you.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Sylus could write poems about his beloved, listing all her remarkable qualities and quirks; however, not once would he describe her as elegant and composed.

You usually were a tornado of various emotions, a temple of the things you cherished, your expressions lively and loud, honest and unrestrained.

You were also a bit clumsy—an occasional stumble, a bump to your limb now and then, or a broken glass wasn’t anything that Sylus hadn’t see you do before. He often worried about you and your safety, with new bruises appearing on your body from bumping into things or a piece of glass piercing through your delicate skin. Sometimes, he wished he could protect you from yourself too, but all he could do was press a kiss to every small injury you sustained from your hectic movements.

All bumps aside, he utterly adored that quality of yours. Every time he caught you acting awkwardly his chest seemed to shrink on itself, his heart squeezing, cute aggression overcoming his senses. You were just so adorable in those moments, the sight always reminding him of a little fawn, beautiful but uneasy on its feet. His craving to grab you and hold you in his arms, protecting you from the whole world, was strong; the urge to press a kiss to your forehead, then to kiss you senseless, even stronger. You were his little chaos: wonderful in your unexpectedness, extraordinary in every sense of the word.

Needless to say, he was used to your adorable clumsiness. He loved it.

That was probably why his brain stopped working when you proved to be everything but clumsy while playing the games at the local funfair. Your moves sure and precise, your gaze locked onto the targets, your body positioned exactly how it should be in order to gain the reward you wanted—whether it was a new plushie, a funky gadget or even some snacks.

And he had to say that this new, confident, borderline cocky behavior you were displaying was making him feel some things.

“Wait, let me try this time.” You said the first time he couldn’t score the prize, the claw mocking him relentlessly, wounding his pride.

You got that plushie in one, excellent attempt.

“Let me get that for you, Sy.” You proposed later, seeing him eyeing a figurine of a crow that reminded him of Mephisto. You were able to get not only that, but also a coupon for a food stall that served the best waffles you’ve ever eaten. As for Sylus, the sweetness of the treat paled in comparison to your blinding smile, with whipped cream still staining the corner of your mouth. He swiped it away with his thumb, then licked the digit, sending you a wink in the process.

He took pride in your blush, especially when making each other red that day started to feel like a competition between you two, whether you were aware of it or not.

“You want this one? Say no more, handsome.” Your words almost making him choke, your hands already grabbing the controls, your body bending over the machine, offering him a wonderful view of your ass. The tips of his ears immediately started to feel as if caught on fire. Even though he knew that you were teasing him, the pet name sounding foreign from your lips, he liked the feeling of you taking the initiative.

He also couldn’t stop his eyes from wandering, your body presented to him in a way that felt illegal to watch. He swiped his gaze up from the nape of your neck to your shoulders, taking note of your delicious-looking waist, perky butt, and thighs, which seemed lonely without his hands squeezing and kneading the soft flesh.

The cheerful sound of the machine made him snap back into reality, just as you were looking over your shoulder, sending him the sexiest, oh so sexy, proud smirk he ever saw in his life. He smirked right back, even though his legs felt disturbingly like jelly.

“I’m starting to think you enjoy this.” He remarked, grabbing the prize from your hands once again, the rest of your treasures already sitting comfortably in the back of his car. You send him a mischievous smile and fixed your hair, your fingers threading through the strands, the smell of your perfume reaching him once again during that night.

He wanted to devour you.

“And what’s wrong with that?” One of your hands grabbed his bicep, holding on to him as you started your lazy stroll in search of yet another entertainment. “You always get me things. And since I know now that you suck at these games, I have a perfect opportunity to return the favor.” He laughed at that, his hand moving to flick your forehead.

“I don’t suck at these games, all of them are tempered with, sweetie. I actually find it astonishing that you are so good at them.” His reply kind of soothing his wounded pride, his mind once again remembering your movements from before. The way you moved with confidence and grace, the little smirks and winks you send his way. His blood started to boil several stalls ago, and it hasn’t calmed since. “Makes one wonder about the extent of your abilities.”

The new, cocky, and self-confident side of you aroused him almost to the point of him grabbing you by the waist and taking you to his car, taking advantage of his tined widows.

“It all comes down to having a good strategy, as someone once taught me.” You said, repeating the words Sylus is always saying to you during your training, a mirth lacing your tone. How he adored you.

“Wise counseling you have here, kitten. You must have a fantastic teacher, if his lessons are proving to be useful anywhere you go.” The smile not leaving your face making him never want to look away.

“Oh, yes, he is. And an eye-candy too.” You touched his nose with the tip of your finger teasingly while he laughed. He stopped walking and turned to you fully, his arms closing around your waist, bringing you to him, close enough for your bodies to touch. The height difference always made him dizzy, with your head fully tilted upward in order to catch his gaze.

“Mm. Maybe that’s a quality he learned from you.” His tone quiet, one of his hands going to touch your cheek, his thumb pressing on your bottom lip. You appeared stunned. “I cannot think of someone sweeter than you. If he’s a candy, you’re one delectable dessert.” He whispered, his eyes going from your eyes to your lips, their reddish tone reminding him of a little cherry. He was fighting with himself not to put his hands on your ass, and squeeze the flesh that you kept pushing his way from the very beginning of your date, or not to place a kiss on your smart little mouth, which kept sending him these playful smirks all day long. He knew that if he started here, he would not be able to stop. No one would be capable of separating him from you, public place be damned.

His desire boiling inside him, threatening to melt his vessels and pour from his body, enveloping you in a tight, pleasurable embrace. He felt feverish, your body pressed to his giving him all the warmth he ever needed, molding his thoughts to fit only your frame.

You were perfect in his eyes. Your body, the perfect shape for him to hold, your face the only one he wanted to remember. And the way he felt when he was with you—so immensely happy, so carefree, so right—was a feeling he had never even dreamed about having. Your banter, little jokes and witty comments made him so at ease he never wanted to stop talking to you, afraid of depriving himself of even a second of the comfort you brought him: the knowledge that he could speak his mind freely, for you understood him beyond the limitations of language. By your side, he could be himself, the thoughts in his head quiet, giving way to expressing himself in any way he wanted. His little taste of heaven: the time you spent together.

He loved you. So intensely it used to scare him, but now he was offering himself willingly, no longer afraid of rejection. Even though you both still didn’t acknowledge it out loud, the feeling lingered in the air between you — a delectable sweetness, a comforting fragrance.

He wanted you. Body and soul. Soul and body. He liked to think he already had your soul in grasp, your actions and openness served as a perfect proof of that, yet your body was still his to claim. And the fact that there was still a part of you he didn’t manage to possess, to thoroughly acknowledge, frustrated him inconceivably.

Especially because you had that strong of an effect on him. Everything you did capable of driving him perfectly insane. Oh, how you had him wrapped around your little finger, without being aware how completely obsessed he was with you.

“Is that so?” His gaze went from your hypnotizing eyes back to your lips, drinking in every single whisper. You stood on your tiptoes, the sight making his hands squeeze your waist tighter, his breath quickening, mind trying to process closer distance. “If he keeps sweet-talking me like this, then I guess he will finally get to taste it.” You grabbed his chin and tilted it down, pressing a soft, drawn-out kiss to his lips. His eyes closed immediately, desperate to heighten his senses. He wanted this kiss to last, both in the moment and later in his memory.

And just as he was about to wrap his arms around your back, pulling you closer, hiding your body from everyone else just to steal a few more kisses, you stepped back, the quiet sound of a smooch echoing between you. He bit his lip, almost drawing blood, restraining himself from chasing after your lips.

“C’mon now. I still have a few tricks up my sleeve that I need to show you.” You gripped his hand tighter and started to walk toward one of the booths. You sent him a smile over your shoulder, making his efforts to calm his racing heart futile. “And then maybe we can grab some cotton candy? All this talk about sweets made me crave some.”

“Anything for you, sweetie.” He answered absentmindedly, your taste still lingering on his lips. How were you always able to move on from the kisses so quickly? It would be the only thing he could think about in the next minutes.

“And what do you want?”

“Hmm?” The question shocked him, his eyebrows going up, his eyes intently observing your face.

“Do you have something you’d like to do while we’re here? I keep dragging you stall to stall ever since we came here.” You said while turning to fully face him, grabbing both of his hands. “I want you to have fun too.”

“I always have fun when I’m with you.” His response honest, his thumb caressing your knuckles. “You make life so interesting. And today you already managed to surprise me, so I would say that was more than enough entertainment for me in a day.” You rolled your eyes at him, a small smile on your lips, and looked at him with patience.

“But the day’s not over yet. Isn’t there anything you’d like to do? Look around.”

He lifted his head from your frame and began taking in the booths and various food stalls that had previously escaped his attention. He hummed, and he could feel you shifting on your feet, unable to contain your excitement.

That’s when he caught something interesting out of the corner of his eye—a couple emerging from a small booth, huge smiles plastered on their faces as they held small pieces of paper. A spark of excitement ignited inside him upon realizing what it was.

“There. I want to have a memento.” He said, his finger pointing to that innocent-looking booth. Almost impossible to spot in the abundance of lights and sounds coming from other attractions.

“Okay! I think I already won you a mountain of mementos but if—Ah!” Your eyes lit up when you realized what he was pointing to, your lips spreading in a cheerful smile. “A photo booth! Sylus, that’s wonderful!”

It wasn’t long before you were both inside the booth, the space cramped, almost too small for him to fit. He sat on the small stool, taking up nearly all the space, leaving you no choice but to sit on one of his legs. Your arms wrapped around his neck for stability, yet there wasn’t a hint of discomfort on your face.

He loved how natural it was for you to be this close to him, the proximity no longer making you nervous. He still remembered how you were at the beginning of your acquaintance, when even an eye contact was enough to make you shy away. Now, touching him was as easy as breathing, your body relaxed and pliant under his wandering hands.

While you were clicking playfully on the screen, setting up the machine, he took his time observing you—mainly how your body looked next to his, which made him short-circuit, reminding him why he was still waiting for you to make the first move in initiating sexual intimacy. The reason he didn’t want to rush things, nervousness buried deep inside his chest.

You were sitting on his leg, your whole body weighting next to nothing, his one limb nearly twice as big as both of yours. Your soft flesh pressed to him didn’t even take up half of the place available on his leg, and when he put one of his hands on your back, the huge patch of your skin he was able to cover made him gulp audibly.

You were so tiny, next to him.

He was a huge man, and he knew that. Not just his height, but his overall build made even other men look small in comparison. While he usually considered it one of his greatest assets, a fantastic tool for intimidation, in this particular case, it planted a seed of worry in him.

It took some time for you not to shy away from his touch, not to flinch every time he leaned to you, his body covering whole line of your vision. And it took him even more time to learn how he should touch you and hold you, not to put too much force behind his caresses, not to make you bruise. And although the gentleness run in his bloodstream by now, he was still worried about the actual sex.

What if he scares you? His body completely covered your delicious curves without issue.

What if he overwhelms you? His stamina and eagerness matched his overall size.

What if he hurts you? The thought of your body unable to accommodate to his size made his blood run cold.

He looked at your body again, and he had to hold in a sigh. He loved your curves, the unbelievable softness of your skin, how warm you were. He felt his hunger increasing every day, every minute, every second he spent in your presence.

Yet he had to wait patiently, not wanting to scare you. He also knew that you were starting to get bolder with him day by day. He liked to think that it was just a matter of time until you will initiate something more, cover him with your soft embrace, let him melt in your warmth.

Because at the end of the day, his observations of your size difference not only filled his mind with fear, but also made his body tingle in all the right places. The arousal he felt knowing that he could manhandle you without any issue, cover your whole body entirely with his, shield you from the world and its coldness—all consuming. The only thing he could think about.

You were tiny in his embrace.

But he could make it work. He will make it work so good.

How could he hurt you when he was so certain that you were made to be his? Two halves of a perfect soul.

His hand slid down to hug your waist and he pressed a lingering kiss to your shoulder. It made you giggle, you thought that it was his way of showing impatience. And it was, in a way. Just not the kind of impatience you assumed it was.

“All set! I had some fun with the stickers, do you want to choose your own?” He looked at the screen and opened his mouth to deny, but one sticker did actually catch his attention. He clicked on the small dove and placed it in the bottom of the template, next to the various hearts you already decorated it with.

“That’s you. The resemblance is almost striking.” He said making you laugh and you picked a sticker of some kind of a black bird.

“And that’s you. They unfortunately don’t have a crow one so this little fella has to work.” You placed the sticker close to the dove one, satisfied with your work.

“I get the vision. When I’m squinting my eyes, I guess.”

You had four pictures taken, all accompanied by laughter and endless teasing. One where you kissed his cheek, one hand holding his jaw, his eyes closed and features relaxed. One where he pretended to bite your neck, your face caught in laughter. One where he rolled his eyes, reacting to your lame joke of getting rabies from his bite, as you placed your pointed fingers above his head, adoring him with imaginary horns, your mouth open in fake shock. And the last one, where you grabbed his face and kissed him, his gentle smile pressed against your mouth, a picture of joy that couldn’t be restrained.

“I might have gone kind of overboard with the stickers.” You said when you got your two copies of the pictures, four perfect rectangles inside a scarlet border, adorned with hearts, flowers and stars. Two adorable birds were at the very bottom of it, just below the date. Sylus looked at the pictures, and his heart seemed to grow bigger, the wave of emotions making him unable to utter even a simple word. “But I think they’re cute regardless! It’s so nice to finally have a picture of us printed out. I’m definitely going to frame mine.” You said and took out your phone to take a picture of it.

His thumb gently caressed the piece of paper, words still stuck in his throat.

It was the very first picture of you two together, and when he looked at it, he couldn’t help but get emotional, knowing that he never expected to have someone like you in his life. Someone to cherish, to protect, to hold. Someone who reciprocated his feelings, someone who will never leave him, even if doomsday falls upon Linkon, even if the world crumbles.

“Are you okay, Sy? You’ve gone nonverbal again.” He felt your hand on his wrist, offering him a gentle squeeze. He finally looked at you, going out of the trace he was in, and saw your beautiful face laced with concern. He felt your hand going up and down his arm, caressing him in order to bring comfort.

“Did I?” He managed to choke out and hugged you to his chest, craving the closeness, not wanting you to see his slightly glistening eyes. He feared that the darkness of the night would not be enough to cover them, the lights from the fun fair only exaggerating his sudden surge of emotions. “They’re perfect. Thank you.” You hugged his torso tightly, your arms going up and down his back. You knew him well enough to realize he got emotional, but you were smart enough to let him savor his feelings in peace. If he was not comfortable showing you his tears, you had to understand it—the knowledge of how much it meant to him already warming your heart.

“Anything for you, Sylus.” You repeated the same thing he said to you earlier, and he picked you up, still hugging you to himself, his face finding coverage in the crook of your neck.

“Sly little thing.” He whispered and pressed a kiss there, drinking in the sound of your laugh and melting under the touch of your fingers, which stroked his hair affectionately.

Oh, how he couldn’t wait to finally be yours completely.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

Mesmerizing.

You, dancing in his room at two p.m to the new vinyl he bought, your hair down, arms up. Your eyes were closed and there was a small, relaxed smile playing on your lips, that seemed to grow bigger with each sway of your hips. You decided to wear the nightgown he got you some time ago, white lace caressing your body with a gentle flow of the shiny fabric.

He couldn’t breathe. All air sucked out of his lungs the moment he turned around and saw you swaying to the music he picked out. A surge of want so intense came over him that he was afraid to move even an inch—his body on fire, his mind filled with the visions of you, thoughts of you, and what you could be reduced to, enriched with under the touch of his hands.

If only he wasn’t a coward.

“Will you join me?” you said over your shoulder, opening your eyes slightly, and you must’ve seen something unusual in his eyes, because your movements slowed down and a furrow appeared between your brows. He wanted to kiss it off instantly. “Sy?”

You were so precious and delicate, a perfect opposite of his harsh exterior and even more barbaric interior. He waited so long, restrained himself for so much time, waiting for you to move first—now, standing before you, the thought that you wanted him this way too pierced a hole in his heart and filled it with fear.

“Forgive me. I cannot.” he answered, his voice coming out with a slight growl, that he couldn’t contain anymore. He inhaled deeply and gritted his teeth, hoping that he was at least successful in not making his eye glow, his Evol suddenly unstable. He didn’t want to know your desires, not when they were visible so clearly on your face now—openness and anticipation, ever since you went back from your date.

He hoped that shower would be able to calm you down, even though the warm and steady stream of the water didn’t manage to help him this time around.

He was losing his composure and he was losing it fast. Weeks of this insatiable hunger, unrelenting need and dripping tension did that to him. He knew he was fighting a losing battle ever since he laid his eyes on you today, looking so cozy in your oversized sweater, filling the air around him with your intoxicating scent.

He was ready to devour you months ago, the buildup straining his muscles now, making him restless. He was a goner—one wrong move and his previous patience and willingness for you to take the lead reducing to vapor.

“Why? We always dance together to your vinyls, especially the new ones.” Your movements faltered to a stop, your magnificent face turned to him, with an expression so honest it made his heart clench painfully.

He thought of all the times you danced under the moonlight, soft notes of his favorite music floating through the air, your bodies moving to the rhythm, sometimes gracefully, some other times not so much. The feelings overwhelmed him even more drastically, his eyes closing for a moment.

It was enough time for you to close the distance, and soon he felt your cold hand pressing against his cheek, swiping the flesh with your thumb. He squeezed his eyelids shut tighter, the touch making his soul burn. You took his head in both of your hands, lowering it to face you.

“Sylus, talk to me.” you said, tone worried. He could feel you standing on your tiptoes, wanting to bring your face closer to his. His body almost shaking with the need to hold you. “You’re acting very unusual today. Is something wrong?” He exhaled the air he didn’t know he was holding and opened his eyes. Your face was so close that he could see the shadow your eyelashes cast on your cheeks. He could feel your breath, warm and inviting.

“I can’t touch you now,” he managed to utter, his hands at his sides, struck in cruel stillness. He locked his eyes with yours, filled with worry and a comforting gentleness. You were always so gentle with him; it made him go insane. “Because if I do, I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”

He saw the realization in the shift of your features as you fully grasped the meaning of his words. To his surprise, you took one of his hands in yours, and placed it on your cleavage, right over your beating heart, the rhythm beneath his palm fast but steady.

“Then don’t. Why would you even want to hold back with me?” You answered, slightly breathless, a pleasurable tingling already setting deeply in your abdomen. You looked at his face, the redness of his cheeks nearly matching the color of his eyes, the look he gave you so desperate it turned your legs to cotton.

The sudden burst of happiness in your chest almost made you tremble, you had waited so long for him to finally claim you as his, and it seemed he had finally reached his limit.

“I don’t—” He stumbled upon his words; a reaction so different from his usual self-confident demeanor it made you crave to uncover more versions of him. All versions of him, every single one he was willing to show you. “I can’t help but fear that I will hurt you. You are so soft, so breakable, it makes me nervous. Aren’t you scared of me? Of—Of what I could do, to you?” The confession slipping out of him, and he grabbed your wrist in one hand, the other coming to rest on your back. He slowly brought you to him, pressing your bodies together. He heard your breath falter, and drank that sound in. Then don’t — you had no idea what a hurricane you managed to stir inside him with just two simple words.

“Sy. My sweet, caring gentleman.” He heard your answer, and felt your fingers caressing his under eyes gently, your eyes never leaving his. One of your fingers touched the wrinkle between his brows, smoothing the furrowed surface. “You could never hurt me, even if you wanted to. You’re so fixated on the knowledge what you can do, that you’re forgetting that you’ve never even touched me hard enough to leave a bruise. No matter how much I wanted you to, sometimes.”

“You—”

“I’m not scared of you, Sylus. I could never, and I will never be scared of you. You’re the one with whom I feel the safest.” His hands started trembling, his patience thinning with every beautiful word from your lips. You were telling him things he didn’t even know how desperately he wanted to hear. “And I want you. I want to finally feel you, all your roughness and sharp edges. I want all of it.” The sound of your breathing mingled with the soft tunes of the vinyl. The air thick with want.

Any second now, he could feel it in the shiver down his spine.

“And I want it now.”

Snap.

His resolve shattered as he pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep and desperate it left your legs trembling. He kissed you with raw intensity, his tongue exploring your mouth, drinking in every sound you made as his hands roamed your body, claiming every inch he could reach.

You felt him everywhere. Your thighs, hips, waist, your neck, hair and breasts—he seemed to touch everything he was depriving himself of before. His hands huge, and although slightly rushed and trembling, still surprisingly gentle.

He lifted you up, your legs straining his waist and he laid you down on his bed, not breaking the kiss for even a second, your breath his breath, your lips water to quench his thirst.

His head was spinning, and when he finally opened his eyes the sight before him alone made him lose his mind.

You were sprawled under him, your hair a wild mess, your lips swollen from the abundance of his kisses. Your eyes glistened, the look in them so full of trust and love, love so visible it nearly broke him in half.

“You’re exquisite. Irresistible. Ethereal.” The praises slipped out of his tongue before he could stop them. The last bit of control fleeting with the touch of your impatient fingers, unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off of him in a matter of seconds. He couldn’t even find it in himself to tease you for your impatience, not when his brain already turned into mush after touching your bare skin. “You look as if you’re coated in frosting. My sweet girl, my most delectable little sin.” His eyes focused on your white dress; his hands not brave enough to let it slip off of you yet. He already feared the man he would become upon seeing you fully bared before him.

“Sylus—”

“It’s unholy. How much I want you.” His lips traced a path from beneath your ear down to your neck, finding their place on your collarbones. “How much I need you. The greed unexplainable, insatiable no matter how close I get to you. It’s not enough. It will never be enough.” His eyes met yours in a silent question and you nodded quickly in permission, gulping audibly, your eyes drooping. He let his hands travel up your legs, grazing your inner thighs, swiping through your hips, his palms tracing the lace of your panties, making the hair on his body raise. He then swiped through your waist and finally, finally his hands rested on your breasts, where you wanted them from the very beginning.

His breath hitched as he looked down your body, noticing how his touch had already lifted the fabric of your dress, baring your legs and stomach. His body shielded you from the chill in the air.

He squeezed your breasts gently, fondling them in his hands, a low groan escaping his lips—the same ones which couldn’t resist kissing your belly, anywhere he could reach, not even thinking about stopping his sensual kneading. It baffled him, how soft you were, how pliant under his touch. His hands, although taking so much of the space on your body didn’t seem to make you nervous at all—every single one of his touches you accepted with soft sights, low whines and a bitten lip. You trusted him, and he was drunk on that trust, wanted more, needed to see how far it could take him.

It quickly appeared that there was no limit to the things he could do to you, your whispers not only appreciative, but also encouraging. The uncontrollable thrusts of his hips against the duvet bordered on painful, the knowledge that he would have you in mere minutes making him unbearably hard. But he accepted the friction, your comfort mattered to him the most, and he wanted to take care of you properly.

“Sylus. Sylus, more, please.” He heard your silent plea, and caught your eyes in his, and that’s when he decided it was a time for you to drop the dress. He helped you out of it then licked the goosebumps forming between your breasts, each tiny dot on your skin making him awfully aware that this was it. Your beautiful form, completely bare, just for him to see, to worship.

“My little gem.” He breathed out, his eyes drinking in your body, committing to his memory every dip and curve. “My treasure.” He nearly growled, his mouth attached to your breast, licking and sucking on your nipple, moaning in the process. He wanted to devour you whole, to not leave a patch of skin untouched by his mouth. He thrived in the way you took hold of his head, your hands messing up his hair, caressing it when his tongue worshipped your breasts and nipples, drowning in their softness. He found his safe place.

“Oh God I—I feel like I’m floating, please don’t stop.” He heard you breathe out, your chest heaving, your legs closing in an attempt to relieve the tension building inside you. “You’re so good. So, so, so good, Sy.” He released one of your nipples with a pop, and stored the visual of your skin glistening with his saliva for later. He basked in your praise and pushed himself down, knowing exactly what he wanted to do next.

“Yes? You want it, kitten? Say you do. Please. I need you to say it.” His voice groggy, laced with yearning so tangible it made your body shiver.

“Yes. Yes, I do. Please, Sy. I waited so long for you.” Your words made his head spin, a smile spreading on his lips not flirtatious at all, just pure joy and contentment. He kissed your stomach and his hands once again swiped through your whole body. He raised on his forearms and caged your head between his arms, and then pressed a long, deep kiss on your mouth which quickly turned into another wave of heavy kisses. He wasn’t hungry anymore.

He was ravenous.

“I need to prepare you first, sweetie.” He said to your mouth, his words immediately swallowed by your perfect lips. You whimpered and his grip on your arm tightened involuntarily, his hand playing with your hair. “I need to take my time with you, otherwise I won’t be able to fit. You’re so tiny it scares me.” You nodded into the kiss and he smiled at you gently, and after pressing a kiss to your forehead, he went down.

And when he finally widened your legs, his mouth was on you instantly, making you moan, your legs clasping on his head reflexively. He grunted into your core, licking and sucking skillfully, guided entirely by pure need and his own instincts.

“You taste so sweet.” It wasn’t long before your legs were trembling and his fingers joined his mouth in an attempt to open you up a little more, to prepare you for what’s to come. “You’re dripping because of me.” He chuckled softly but deeply, chest filled with pride, and he licked your core once again, sucking at the sensitive bud. What he didn’t expect was when he managed to fit one finger inside you, angling it upwards, your back suddenly raised from the bed, hands reaching to his chest, delicately pushing him away. A drowned-out cry escaped your lips, the wetness between your tights increased, your plushy walls fluttered around his finger.

He made you come, and he instantly got addicted to it.

“Yes. Yes. Just like that, beautiful—Fuck.” With a swear word on his lips he wasted no time in slurping up your spent, his fingers from one, going up to two, then three. And when the only thing he could hear were your moans and whimpers, the taste of you imprinted on his tongue, the slide of his fingers smooth and slick—he realized that you were ready for him.

He slowly withdrew from your pussy, pressing one last lingering kiss to your clit. As his fingers slipped out of you, he finally let himself to catch more than a glimpse of your face.

And it shattered him, how utterly ruined you looked. All flushed and heaving, skin glistening with sweat, eyes shining, filled with unshed tears.

He did that to you, and he couldn’t be more proud of himself. He licked his fingers clean, savoring your taste, then he pulled you into an embrace, his arms wrapping around your whole body. Your head dropped on his bicep; your breath labored.

“You okay, kitten?” He asked gently, ignoring his painful erection, still stranded in the stiff fabric of his pants. His head pressed to your neck, and he inhaled the scent, licking off the droplets of sweat in the process. He couldn’t get enough.

“Yes. More than okay.” You answered, and he felt your hand wandering, trying to unbuckle his belt. His chest squeezed. “Need you now. Please, Sylus…”

“You don’t have to beg. I’ll gladly give you my everything. All of me.” His hands left your body for a moment, swiftly taking off his pants, his mouth now kissing your cheeks and nose.

“I want to taste you, too.” You whispered to him shyly, and he grunted, closing his eyes, begging every deity to give him more patience. How he would love for your little mouth to envelop him, but he knew that the sight alone would be enough to make him undone.

“Next time, okay, sweetie? I cannot wait to be inside you.” You giggled and nodded, pressing a kiss to his nose, stroking his hair gently.

He shivered and hissed when he took off his underwear, letting himself out in the open. He was so hard it hurt, his hand going up and down his erection in an attempt to reduce the tension, even though he knew that the only one who could truly satisfy him was you.

“Oh my god.” He heard your gasp, and noticed that you were looking at him, his body fully exposed, his cock heavy in his hand. “Sylus— Sy, it won’t fit. There’s no way that—” He silenced you with a kiss, and swiped his hand through your core, gathering the slick and spreading it on his member. The smooth glide felt so good he lost himself in the feeling for a second, his tongue licking into your mouth, swallowing your gasps.

“Shhh, I made sure to prepare you as well as I could. And I won’t hurt you, you said so yourself.” He said the last sentence into your lips, once again pressing a long kiss there. Then he kissed your cheek, and breathed hard against your neck, his one hand wrapped around your waist, holding you closer to him, and the other stroked his cock, guiding it to your entrance. When the tip touched you, he gritted his teeth and you gasped, the first contact electric. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your fingers playing nervously with the hair at his nape.

He breathed heavily; the tip of his cock aligned perfectly with your entrance. “You can take it; you were made for me. I will make it fit.” He let go of your waist and grabbed one of your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and smiling gently at you, the anticipation making his body shake. “Just relax for me, will you? Can you do that, kitten?” You nodded and exhaled slowly, some tension getting out of your body. He pressed one last kiss to your forehead and intertwined your fingers with his.

“Close your eyes. I want you to feel me.”

“No. I need to see you, Sy. Don’t make me look away.” He chuckled and pressed his forehead against yours in a silent acceptance. He never wanted to take his eyes away from you too, your desires matching perfectly.

You were his soulmate, after all.

He pressed his erection to your opening and started to slip in, gently, unhurriedly, despite the desire to take you in one thrust of his hips. You opened your mouth in a painful moan, squeezing his hand, panic visible in your eyes. He hated that he was bringing you pain, but knew that it was inevitable, he saw how wide he was stretching you out. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Easy. You’re doing so good…” He breathed out, his hand leaving his cock to hold your hip, the other going up and down your body in a comforting caress. “Taking me so well...” His voice hoarse, sweat dripping from his forehead from the strain of keeping himself under control. He managed to put the tip in, your pussy squeezing him, your heat making him shiver, the sensation the most pleasurable he ever felt. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to calm himself down.

“It hurts, it really—it really hurts.” You whispered and he grunted, feeling you squeeze him harder, his length sliding into you deeper. He opened his eyes and lowered his body to get closer to your face, and placed a kiss between your eyebrows.

“I know, love. If you want to me stop—” He couldn’t recognize his voice anymore.

“No. Never. Please.” You kissed his brow, and send him a small smile. “I—I can take it. I was made for you, yeah?”

He huffed out a laugh, a whimper finding a way out at the same time.

“You were. Mmhm. Good.” He slipped in further, his mouth opening wider. “Good girl. Just a little more.” And before he managed to stop the shivering of his body, he burrowed himself in your tight heat almost to the brim. You were not able to take all of him in yet, but it was nearly a perfect fit, the sight of you wrapped around him made him see red, a low moan slipping out of him, your whimpers the most magnificent tune he ever heard.

“I’m going to move now.” He said and you moaned, your head nodding frantically.

He started thrusting inside you, and he felt as if fireworks exploded inside him, the desire burning brightly, need finally calming down, his mind completely at ease. Your moans, whimpers, cute little “ah,ah,ah’s” making his whole body shiver, a smile finding its way onto his swollen lips. You felt so good below him, your warmth enveloping him fully, and he started to question if he truly was worthy of such a blessing.

He didn’t care anymore. He had you, you wanted him and that was all that mattered now.

“You’re so. fucking. tight. God.” He started moving faster to the accompaniment of your small encouragements, his hand holding onto yours. And when your legs wrapped around his hips, bringing him closer to you, he was gone.

He grabbed your waist and lifted up your butt, the pace and force of his thrusts intensifying, his grunts leaving his mouth freely, silent praises slipping from his lips every now and then. He couldn’t stop now. Didn’t want to stop.

“I want—I want to stay inside you forever. I feel—Ah—Mm—like I’m melting.” He moaned and you felt his mouth on your body, kissing every patch of skin he was able to reach. You kept breathing out soft, quiet moans, tears filling your vision. “So cute.”

You felt so good, the stretch now pleasurable, your body accepting him fully, every thrust welcome, each one anticipated.

And he could see that so clearly on your face, his mind calming, knowing that he was able to bring you pleasure. It made him feel better too, your lovely expressions making his blood pump faster, his hips thrust deeper, just to see and hear more tokens of your delight. He was addicted to you and your reactions, to the way you sang his name, the way your skin tasted and eyes glistened every time he managed to catch eye contact.

Time quickly went by when you were losing yourselves in each other. The positions changed constantly, Sylus looking for and finding new ways to tip you over the edge, making sure you were completely satisfied. You encouraged him to leave some marks on you, and you made sure to repay the sentiment, scratching his back with your nails, and pressing hickies on his chest—he already wished for the marks to stay there forever, and you assured him that you’ll stay instead, making him jump on you once again, burying his head in your shoulder.

“Say my name, kitten. Keep—Keep saying my name.” He grunted, his hips unrelenting, your bodies soaked, your own so tired that he had to hold it in his arm for you to not slip off the bed. He kept thrusting inside you from behind, his lips pressing gentle kisses on your neck and shoulder, his movements deep and sensual, pleasure overwhelming. You granted his wish, your voice hoarse and quiet.

You were going at it for hours now, yet he still hasn’t come.

Not because he couldn’t, but because every time he was close, he was slipping out of you, his eyes squeezing shut, a hand gripping himself at the base.

He didn’t want the night to end, refused to let you go, savored the feeling of being buried deep inside you, not knowing where you ended and he began.

“Sy—Mmm—Sylus—Ah.” The words failed you, your mind filled only with pleasure and thoughts of him. You were so tired and yet he made you feel so good you wanted to stay in his arms forever. “The—Ah—The sun is rising.”

He nuzzled into your cheek, his thrusts slowing down, quiet grunts leaving his lips. He sounded wrecked.

“I know, love. You look so wonderful in this light.” He kissed your cheek and glued himself off of you, leaving your body cold and shivering. In the next second, he manhandled you onto your back again, facing him. Your hands immediately flew to cover your face, fearing how completely ruined you must have looked after so much time making love and so many orgasms ripped out of you.

“No—Mmh—Don’t hide yourself from me.” He grunted, and took your hands in his gently, revealing the beautiful mess he managed to make of you. Your face covered in tears, cheeks flushed and lips so swollen it only made him want to kiss them some more. So he did. “Never hide yourself from me, dove. Hold me.” He kissed the palms of your hands and put them on his neck, your arms going to hold him closer. He huffed out a weak laugh, his thrusts not stopping even for a second. You felt his huge hands caressing your thighs and you moaned softly. “God, I’m sorry, kitten, I just can’t stop—I—”

“It’s okay, S—Sylus. Ah—I won’t run away.” You pulled his head closer and kissed his lips softly. His hands encircled your waist, drawing your body closer to him, the hair on his forehead brushing against your chest. Your eyes met his and he seemed to calm slightly, your gaze soothing the flame inside him.

“I love you. I—” You suddenly confessed, a single tear slipping down your cheek. His breath faltered, ruby eyes widening, your words shaking his world completely. “I love you, Sylus. So much. I love you so intensely it scares me, I—Ah—” A moan was ripped from you when he suddenly picked up the pace, the sweat from his forehead landing between your breasts. Another happy tear slipped from your eye, and if you had enough energy to keep your eyes open, you’d see that he was teary-eyed too. His hands grabbed your head, turning it up so he could look straight into your eyes—his own burning with desire and unspoken devotion. He needed to hear you say the words once more, but before he could start pleading for it, you managed to read his mind.

“I love you, Sylus.”

And those words were what finally made him shatter.

He came, so violently he nearly blacked out, his whole body trembling, and movements faltering, his cock buried inside you the deepest he could go. He released grunt after grunt, his arms holding you tight to him, your soft sighs only seemed to prolong his fall. He nuzzled his face up against your neck, then cheek, his lips touching your skin, unable to press more kisses due to the uncontrollable moans coming out of his mouth.

“F-Fuck—” He managed to choke out and you tried to calm your heavy breathing, focused on his cum filling you up, so much that you could already feel it spilling out. You whined and brought your hands to his waist, holding him close, and you came one last time too, your pussy squeezing him even tighter, ripping a short cry out of him. Goosebumps spread around your body from the pleasure and you went pliant in his arms, letting your sore muscles finally rest against the soft sheets.

Sylus relaxed a few moments later, his sweaty body collapsing on top of you, mindful not to put his full weight on you. His hot, heavy breath still warmed your neck, your hearts beating rapidly against each other, showing no signs of calming anytime soon. He managed to turn onto his side, his arms still wrapped around you, taking your body with him.

You were held in a wet, yet warm embrace, his arms protecting you from the cold morning air, your bodies still connected. The silence that ascended upon you comfortable and desired after so much time of intense workout—both throats roughed up and in need of hydration.

“Sylus, I—” You started saying, your voice a rough whisper, your head raising to meet his gaze, surprised that his crimson eyes were already studying you. He put one of his hands on the back of your head, his fingers playing with your hair ever so gently.

His gaze so intense you started to turn your head away, but he gently brought it back to him. He didn’t have to open his mouth for you to understand what he was feeling—the emotion in his eyes unmistakable.

“I love you, too.” He breathed out, his hand going up to your cheek, stroking it with the back of his fingers. His hand was cold and served as a delightful compress for your burning face. “I love you more than any words could ever express.”

He reminded you of a statue under this warm, morning light, his body perfectly sculpted. The only source of color were his cheeks, blaring red, nearly matching the color of his sparkling eyes. His wet hair still bearing the paths carved by your fingers, his lips kissed and twitching, fighting off a smile, which threatened to form when he realized how intensely you were observing him.

“My home is your home, my heart is your heart. Every breath I’ve been taking ever since I met you had already been yours — the day you tell me to cease, I will gladly do so.” He continued, his breath slowly calming down, one of your hands going to stroke his chest.

“I will never tell you to cease, you little dramatic fool.” You answered playfully, blinking away your tears, your hand going to rest on his warm cheek, his face immediately nuzzling into your palm. “If anything, I would curse you to live forever. Soundly and happily, by my side.” A soft laugh came out of his lips; a start of a smile that overtook his entire face, lightening up his features, showing off his small sharp canines.

“By your side...” He repeated, his voice possessing a dream-like quality, a smirk still visible. He swiped his hand over your body: from your shoulder, through your waist, down to your hip, and then back up. His touch soothing as always. “A curse has never sounded so sweet, my little dove.” He closed his eyes, and a sigh escaped his lips. The happiness spread through his body so intensely, that he thought he was going to burst.

Live forever, by your side. There was no other place in the entire universe where he would rather be.

He felt you squirming, a crease appearing between your brows, your hand squeezing his bicep. He hissed, feeling you squeeze him down there too, his cock still buried deep inside you, your plush walls a place he never wanted to leave. However, he knew that after so much time and so many orgasms you needed a break, your body sensitive and in need of extensive pampering. Good thing he adored spoiling you with affection.

“I’m going to pull out now, okay sweetheart?” You nodded your head, a small smile on your lips. You were just too adorable. “And then I’ll put you in a warm bath, order your favorite meal and change the sheets. Any objections?”

“None at all.” He switched your position so that he was once again on top of you, and he gently pulled out, a grunt leaving his lips at the loss of the comfortable fit. You whimpered when his cum started flowing out of you freely, and he couldn’t look away, the sight making the desire in him burn once more. He stopped himself before he started showing the cum back inside you. “Will you join me in the bath too?” He looked at your face, covered in the warm sunlight, the sight making him breathless.

“I would love to, if that’s what you want.” He hugged you to himself one more time, his body covering yours completely, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. He grazed the delicate skin with his teeth, then pressed his lips to your pulse, his tongue picking out to lick at your salty skin. “I love you.” He whispered into your neck, basking in the feeling of your heartbeat beneath his lips. “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for showing me what love feels like. Thank you for accepting me.” His breath started going out labored, the intensity of the emotion too big for his body.

“Thank you, for letting me love you. You are the best thing that happened to me, Sylus. I hope you know that.” Your kiss to his temple and your hands caressing his back felt like a blessing, your bodies connected in a soul-crushing hug his own private oasis. Never in his life had he experienced such a moment of total tranquility; only you were capable of bringing him peace.

He never wanted to let you go, and he didn’t have to. No other thought filled him with so much joy. You were his, just as much as he was yours. An ideal exchange of souls.

“I do.” He breathed out, and looked into your loving eyes once again. You smiled at him, and he felt his breath being punched out of him, his ruby eyes fluttering. He shook his head and reciprocated the smile, which quickly turned into a full laugh, your bodies shaking, hearts beating in unison. “I truly do.”

Your lips found his in a kiss that tasted like a promise—of a hand to hold, body to warm up to, and a heart that beat for one another. In every life, every universe, and in every space and time—now, and forevermore.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡ bonus! ˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

“So, which one finally did it?” You asked him nonchalantly, when you were both freshly washed up, lying on the new, pleasurably chilly sheets, basking in the afternoon sunlight. Too exhausted to raise, too happy to fall asleep after the whole night of making love.

His head on your chest stirred slightly, a confusion slowly overtaking his features.

“Hmm?” He opened his eyes, but he didn’t find it in himself to raise. His arms holding your body close to his, tightening their hold, a signal he hoped would make you continue the caress of his back with your fingers.

Your skin bared a fragrance of his soap and his skin, and he felt drunk ever since he noticed it.

“The workout outfit a size too small? Or those jeans at the funfair?” You continued, and his mind started to connect the dots. His eyes widened. “I knew that I would be sticking my ass out a lot that day so I made sure they were extra tight.” He heard you giggle and raised his head immediately, his gaze falling on yours.

“You—”

“What? You were making me wait forever! And don’t get me wrong…” You cupped his cheek, and he was rendered speechless. The whole time he was fighting for his sanity, trying to wait for you, restraining himself from taking you on the nearest piece of furniture — You were riling him up on purpose? “I love that you are a gentleman, and the princess treatment is really nice too, but I just couldn’t wait to have you ravish me, you know? Your girl has needs.”

He was going completely insane. He let out a hearty laugh, and shook his head in disbelief. It seemed that he underestimated you again, forgot that your desires and needs matched his almost perfectly.

And he should’ve known that the workout clothes were a bit too revealing for your liking. Fuck, he should’ve known.

“And it seems my girl is a sly little vixen.” His voice laced with humor, a smile still visible, head impossibly light. He hummed, and kissed a smile off of your plump lips, then your neck, shoulders and chest. You started trembling, and the smile he sent you this time made him look as if he was a wolf studying his pray. You gulped audibly. “Well then, if you decided to manipulate me, then I think you are ready to suffer the consequences.” His kisses reached your breasts, and he took one perky nipple into his mouth, sucking passionately. His other hand grabbed at the other boob, kneading the flesh languidly.

“But it’s already bright outside, shouldn’t we—” A press of his finger on your lips hushed you, and his eyes met yours, his lips still circled around your delicate nipple. With a snap of his fingers the curtains covered the windows, cutting of the only source of light. Darkness enveloped you, making the press of his body on yours even more intimate. Your body was still on fire after the hours of tangling in sheets, every part of you sensitive and tingling under his skilled hands.

“Ah, ah. You’re trembling. Why is that, I wonder?” You heard his voice closer to your ear, and when your eyes got used to the darkness, you saw his eyes filled with mirth and something primal. His hands went slowly up your tights, their destination obvious. “I had no idea that my kitten was that starved. Now I can’t possibly leave her unsatisfied, can I?”

You felt his hands touch your warmest spot, and you let fireworks overtake you once more, your spine twisting to get closer to him. He tasted the skin on your chest again, and went down with his kisses, leaving a happy, wet trial in its wake. He raised suddenly, kissing you on the lips.

“And what about the zipper?” He asked absentmindedly into your lips, remembering the situation that nearly made him lose his mind couple of weeks ago.

“What zipper?” Your confusion truthful, your squeal loud when he suddenly plopped motionless on top of you, a sigh of exasperation leaving his mouth.

It seems that loving you was the beginning of his end, after all.

˙⟡⋆˚✿˖°⟡

thank you for your time! ♡ PLEASE let me know if you liked it, i would appreciate every single comment and engagement!!! i would be so happy to read your reactions (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

likes would be much appreciated ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧