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couldeatthatgirlforlunch · 6 months ago

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A Day in Life

Synopsis: A day in the life of Jason Todd. Also, he's a househusband now. Oh, and a little plot twist.

Pairing: Househusband!Jason Todd X Gn!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: Canon level angst for Jason; Some sexual innuendos; Writer apparently doesn't know how to finish a story anymore; This is pretty slice-of-life so maybe boring?; English is not my first language.

Word count: 3,8k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Wake up, make out, get up. First steps of your everyday routine. Sometimes making out turns into something more, but not today.

From his past life, as Robin, Jason learned a lot about discipline. As much as he tried to forget everything and everyone from his past before you, some habits die hard, although with time, with you and with therapy, he accepted that not all of his experience was bad or should be thrown away just because of one sociopathic clown who hurt him. Yes, Jason died, came back angry and did a lot of shit. But he was still alive and this could be a second chance.

While you, his darling spouse, get ready for work, Jason gets up, puts on his apron, fills the dog bowl for Daphne — your little brown dachshund that you adopted together four months after getting married —, opens the doors to the garden, so the dog can do whatever, and finally starts making breakfast and lunch. Breakfast so you two can eat together and lunch for you to eat at work. Sometimes you both meet up and eat together at your office or a restaurant. Today, that's not the case.

Simple yogurt with fresh fruits and nuts, coupled with a slice of chocolate cake he baked the day prior, eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast. As for your lunch box, a natural sandwich, salad, fruits and juice. He also fills up your two liter water bottle, so you feel pressured have no excuse but to stay hydrated.

Food. Until he was 12 his relationship with food was complicated, to stay the least. At first, his beloved but troubled mom would be in no condition to cook him three or more nice and fulfilling meals a day for a growing boy, he either had to learn and make do with quick instant food, eggs and old bread, or starve, since money was something he only saw when it was being handled to her drug dealer. His father was even worse. Jason loved his mom. Still suffers for her. He hated his father who was the one making her addiction worse. He’s still happy he died.

Living on the streets, food was a dream. A bad dream. It either came from trash or he had to do things that made him feel humiliated and guilty just to get some. And it was gone in a flash, he was so hungry he devoured it all in a second, and then his belly hurt.

Then he came. Jason loved his new father. Loved his new grandfather. Loved their food. So healthy, abundant and full of taste. So fun to prepare. He learned a lot from Alfred because he loved to spend time with him, play with the ingredients and make everyone and himself happy with the results.

But then he had those memories wiped out of his mind, (un)fortunately they came back, but at that time food was in the back of his mind. Sure, he didn't have to worry about starving, crime paid more than enough for that, but he didn't put much thought into any of it.

Now, with you, he's making new memories with food. He cooked and baked a lot with you and for you throughout all your relationship, and you did the same for him. He loves his kitchen, just like the rest of your house. The pantry and fridge are always full thanks to you. You take good care of him. You make his trust in you be worth it. And he reciprocates it. Healthy and nice food that brings comfort and makes you roll your eyes. Especially after he started frequenting cooking classes as a hobby, again, thanks to you.

After you are gone with a full belly and a pet in the ass (just like him, honestly), he continues his routine. He changes clothes and goes to the gym. Jason never stopped exercising, but the lack of all the activity vigilantism entails and with all the treats you two have, he started getting more soft. You loved it, he hated it. — Okay he didn't hate it, he just wasn't the most happy with it. Roy thought it was kinda funny, until Jason pointed out he also got softer after Lian. You honestly couldn't see why all that softness they were talking about was so bad since they were still very muscular and defined, just less dry and more snuggly. You honestly thought your Jaybird could go even further. — So the addiction of yoga to his routine happened.

After that, he goes straight home, eats, showers, takes care of his appearance to keep looking like a proper hubby that you can shove on your bitter frenemies faces, and makes sure to keep the maintenance of the house, so you can come back tired from work and enjoy a perfect house to rest on.

Hygiene. Another things that was complicated with his biological family. His father wouldn't touch a single plate or broom, and would beat and scream at his mom if she didn't put her high (again, because of him) ass up and did the labor. Most often than not, their house was messy, had a bad smell that his little nose was so used to that it's not like he minded, and had insects around. His clothes were dirty hand-me-downs, some fit him, some didn't, a lot of them had holes. His hair tangled and itchy.

When he went to the streets, it just got worse.

Bruce and Alfred fixed that. He finally learned what stink was because he only knew good and neutral scents. His clothes fit him. Everything around him was clean and well-kept. No holes, no stains. Hair always trimmed, soft and clean. Well maintained.

When he came back, cleanliness was basic. Of course he is gonna keep everything around him clean. Habit and common sense, you know? Clothes his size because why the hell would he use hand-me-downs when he can just buy his own? And they had to be the right size for his new 6’2 and almost 200 lbs body. Hair? Whatever. Always washed but as long as it didn't look ridiculous he didn't have time to put much thought on his appearance. He was genuinely surprised you were attracted to him at first sight.

Being with you, he learned to enjoy the little things in life again. Sometimes he finds himself unmoving in front of a random room of the house, or in front of the mirror, trying to grasp if it's all real, If this is really his life, if that's how he looks. His mind flashes memories of his childhood home and his current home. He ignores the memories of the manor not only because of the betrayal he felt for Bruce, but also because the manor was from the Wayne's. He was a Wayne. He is not anymore. This is him. His new house, with you, is what he wished he had growing up. What he always dreamed of. Love. Company. And comfort. He felt all of that while being a Wayne, until he despised the Wayne's. Not the couple that died decades ago or the centuries old descendants. But his father and his siblings.

On days where he doesn't take care of the house, he practices his hobbies. He now has time to do it all, surprising you, his therapist, Roy, and himself, he did cooking, gardening, pottery, crocheting and of course, reading. You paid for all his classes, praised him on his achievements, added his creations to the decor of the house, accompanied him on any event or place related to his interests, gave him his own library in one of the rooms in the house. He even made some friends between middle-aged women and the only other househusband and stay-a-home dad that frequented those places.

It was very funny and cute seeing rough, huge, leather jacket wearing and scarred Jason Todd telling jokes to 50-year-old white moms/grandmas and sometimes even babysitting their kids, pets and plants. You knew he could be a good dad one day if you decided to have kids. He was also more than happy to have just you, Daphne and good friends. And plants.

Warmth. When he was a kid his parents broke the heater during a fight, he wondered if they didn't have money to fix it, even with his father's activities, or if his father just refused to fix it. Anyhow, it was always cold in Gotham, freezing on winter, his dirty clothes with holes didn't help much. The streets didn't seem much different in that aspect. The manor kept him warm when he wasn't seven feet under the dirt, in a casket. When he came back, Jason always wore the warmest of clothes, even while sweating, he didn't know why. Now he did. Your house is always warm. Your body is always warm. Comfort. Your love gave him comfort. Warmth. A reason to live.

Love. His mom. Bruce and Alfred. You.

After he was done and rested for a little, Jason took Daphne for a walk in the way to the grocery shop. He wanted to try a new receipt you saw on tiktok today for dinner and had to get more flour and something for the filling.

After a few minutes of walking on his perfectly nice looking and safe neighborhood — nothing like crime alley. The type of neighborhood he saw on the television and imagined those other happy kids his age living and envied them. Dreamed of being adopted into one of their families while jumping from orphanage to orphanage. It never happened. He just got more abused. And then the manor was so isolated that you could only see mansions and plants all around. So big and far away that they looked empty of life. — he got there and strapped the dog to a post, next to a smiley golden retriever.

He got in and- fuck it, I'm going home. The empanadas can wait another day.

— Jason? Oh my god. Jason! Is that you?! — The infuriatingly familiar loud voice calls out from the middle of the shop and all heads turn to look. Shit, he can't go now without embarrassing himself in front of the cashier of his favorite and most visited shop. So he just nods, takes a basket and walks as if there was nothing interesting happening. It worked with the others costumers, unfortunately, Dick thought it was way too interesting and forgot his own basket that only contained eggs and cereal, and started following him around, this time, with a less surprised tone.

— Hey, Dick. — Jason idly muttered, that just made his coff coff brother indignant.

— Hey, Dick?! What the hell? Where were you? It's been three years! We thought you were dead! Or kidnapped! We never stopped looking for you! We were worried! We mourned! What happened? — Was it bad that Jason didn't want to give him a real answer? Probably. Especially with how much his therapist, who he saw on the days he didn't go to the gym, told him he should try to mend things with his family. So much so that he started actually contemplating it recently. But if he did it, it was going to be on his own time. Not by bumping into them in the grocery store. Oh, well. Jason was always good at adapting. The best.

And wow, three years had passed? Makes sense. Recovery does take time and he's been really happy for a while. Jason still remembers the day he decided to quit everything. It was the same day he decided you were the one, truthfully he always knew you were marriage material, the perfect one for him, out of his league, straight out of his most amazing dreams, peak goal for him, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to be the one you should be stuck with forever. He desperately wanted to, but he had to commit. Ride or die. He loved you, now more than ever, and didn't want to waste your time. He was still a bit messy at the time, but you made it all better, he was a lot better than he was before you came into the picture. You were the right choice. Jason always took you seriously, he was just insecure. So, while still in around eight months of relationship, he quit everything.

He quit his family. He quit vigilantism. He searched for recovery. And a year and a half later, with a little more than two years of dating, he made the big proposal. You married on your three-year anniversary. Got Daphne four months later. It's been around three or four months ever since.

While Dick’s math might not be exact, it is not necessary in this context, the point came across just fine.

He also knew that the fact that you both decided to not leave Gotham was going to bite him in the ass one day. One way or another.

— What happened? Oh, well. I retired. Got married. And now I'm a dad. — Daphne was like a daughter to him, so it was the same, right?

His nonchalant reply didn't seem to satisfy the other, though. Todd could see it, the urge to strangle him in his eyes. Dick wouldn't strangle his dead missing little brother, would he?

— You… You what? — Dick was in disbelief.

— You guys searched for me? Thanks, I guess? It means a lot. — Jason just sniffed and went on his way, leaving Grayson behind, paralyzed.

Maybe he could be fast enough and get out of there before the older one got a grasp of his senses back and followed him out. Part of him felt hope, the other heard yours and his therapist voices in his head, and the nagging was annoying. Maybe he never stopped being a “grump”, like you always amusedly said.

Oh, no. Here he comes again. Jason suppresses an eye-roll.

— Stop. Can you really explain? — The mix of emotions was almost overwhelming, an urge to cry, punch a wall, punch Jason's face, scream and who knows what more was running through Dick's body.

Jason sighed and finally addressed him completely. Tone lower so no one could hear.

— Okay. I met someone… Someone good. Someone special. A civilian. I was tired of everything. So I decided to retire and made sure none of you could find me. I'm surprised Roy and Lian kept the secret from you, though. Anyway. Now I'm a stay-at-home hubby, have a dog and go to therapy. You happy? — A beat of silence. — Hey, don't make that face… I was going to tell you guys eventually… When I felt like it… It's not like you guys saw me a lot. How much time did it take for you all to miss me? I made an appearance once in a while when someone asked for help and that's it. Alfred knew everything so if you’re gonna be mad at anyone, be at him too, not just me… And Roy. Don't forget Roy.

— A-Are you kidding me? Oh, yes, blame the butler! You couldn't even tell us? Like “hey guys, I'm gonna retire and take some time for myself for a while. Also, come to my wedding!” I wanted to be invited, you know?! Why didn't you invite me? Did you at least invite Alfred? Did- — Jason rolled his eyes and cut his rant.

— Yes, Alfred was there. Front row and everything. — Dick shrieked.

— T-That’s not the point! — His voice raised slightly from exasperation and both of them checked around for anyone's attention, then came back to the conversation.

Jason raised a hand to interrupt him and took a deep breath.

— Look. I wasn't in a nice place at the time, okay? I'm better now… And I was going to talk to you guys sooner rather than later… — Jason let a moment of vulnerability shine, hoping that would melt his brother's heart and fix things. It did. — We will have a second wedding when we renovate our vows in our 5th anniversary. You can be there… Everyone can be there. — Jason cleared his throat to interrupt the other again. — But now I have to get home in time to make dinner for my honeyboo, so why don't we… Stay in contact and… One of those days everyone can have dinner together and catch up, huh?

Dick took one of the deepest breaths of his whole life. Jason pursed his lips.

— Okay… — He stuck a finger in his face roughly. — But don't disappear again. Or else I promise I’m gonna personally make everyone track you down, understood? — Jason snorted. As if Tim and Bruce wouldn't do it already once they knew everything. As if Bruce didn't secretly keep track of him this whole time. Unless… Unless everyone changed and he didn't know his… His family anymore.

Why did it make him feel weird?

— Yes, boss. — Jason saluted him and left.

— Relax… — You elongated the word. — Nothing bad it's gonna happen… — You went behind Jason and tried rubbing his broad shoulders to chase the tenseness away. The sight and feel of his muscles almost made you drool, and you blinked to focus again.

— How do you know? — You pursed your lips and went to his side to try to make him take his eyes off of cleaning the countertop for the 4th time due to anxiety.

— Because they love you. And they care about you. And they miss you. — Jason deadpanned you. — Just give it a chance. If anything goes wrong, we will just kick them out and you never have to talk to them, ever again. We can even move if you want. Or go on a vacation to the same place we had our honeymoon, I can wear that skimpy piece you like… Spoil you rotten… — Your voice lowered seductively and you pressed your body to his side, running your hand up and down his arms with some pressure.

Jason’s mind went blank and he was speechless for a few seconds. Your eyebrows raised with a small, convincing smile that made all his worries go away. He sighed.

— Okay… Okay, you’re right… — He leaned down and sneaked an arm around your waist. You both shared a slow and wet kiss, bordering between sensual and calming. Unfortunately, he had to wait a few hours before having some action. He pulled his face away a few centimeters, looking you in the eyes. — I thought I had ripped that thing. — You blinked.

— You just might have. But I bought another one because I looked too good on it not to wear it again. — You shared a chuckle when the doorbell rang. You both looked at the door, then at each other. — Want me to get it? — You ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the last of his nerves. Jason swallowed.

— No. Have to get it over with. — He took a deep breath and then let out. Pulling away from your embrace. — Put the juice on the table for me, please? — You hummed and nodded.

Without giving a second thought, he walked in long strides and abruptly opened the door.

It was like that scene in Avengers: End Game when on one side there was just Captain America against the whole Thanos's army, just staring at each other.

— Are you wearing an apron? — Damian snarked with an eyebrow raised. Jason looked down. Yes, he was. Good start.

— Take your shoes off, there’s other shoes for you all there. And here I was having hope that at fifteen you wouldn't be a demon anymore. — Jason said sarcastically and gave them space to enter.

As soon as they got in the neighborhood they were all already skeptical. If you were the only one working, how much do you earn to live in such a nice area and with this nice house? They could even see a pool in the backyard and there were TWO expensive cars in the driveway. Jason said he quit all of the crime lord thing, did he keep the savings? Did he invest?

The little dog came running and barking, taking their attention away from the house and their shoes, Damian immediately crouched to pet her. Jason let a side of his lips go up. At least that hasn't changed.

— Her name is Daphne. — Jason spoke over the cooing of Duke and Cass at the dog. He locked eyes with Bruce who had an unreadable expression on his face. He looked older, Jason didn't know how to feel about that. Then gazed at Dick, who had a shit eating grin, Alfred, whose satisfied smile warmed his heart, and Tim, who was analyzing the space while changing shoes.

— Nice place. So, what does your partner do? — Are they committing fraud? — You appeared from the corner and replied for him.

— I direct the Queen Industries’s Gotham’s office. — You answered softly with a polite smile, stopping besides Jason, who wrapped an arm around you. Everyone's gaze turning on you made you feel shy, but you held on with confidence.

— Oh, wow, so Jason really is a malewife. — Your eyes widened in surprised and you couldn't hold back a laugh. Jason let a small smile graze his lips, coaxing the easiness out of him.

— I offered to pay cleaning and cooking service, but he wanted to do things himself. — You say, a little afraid they would get angry at you for “slavering” their Jason.

— Did you buy those cars outside? — Wow, Tim really was as skeptical as Jason had said.

— Hmhmm. — You nodded simply, as if it was nothing.

Jason's siblings raised their eyebrows and Bruce cleared his throat, and took a step forward, feet clad in fluffy slippers. He offered a hand and presented himself politely to you. You wondered how much of that was his persona and how much was just a father meeting his son's partner.

While giving them a tour of the house, the family — aside from Alfred who already knew it all — observed the details, happy memories in the form of pictures of trips, your marriage, birthdays, anniversaries, Daphne's growing stages, spontaneous moments that just deserved to be eternalized, trinkets, handmade pots, plants, Daphne’s toys, and the decor that was just a mix of you both. No guns in the walls, no corpses buried in the backyard, no blood stains. The only signals that it was their Jason living here and not a clone were the books, pictures and hidden security measures.

It was… Good. Peaceful. Clearly the change in scenario helped him. It hurt them a little, some more than others, that it took him cutting them off for him to start healing, although, maybe opening up this new side of him for them meant that it wasn't just that. And it wasn't. The fault didn't fall completely on them. Nor on Jason. And one person, you, can't be the solution for all global crisis. Mental health is complex. Trauma is complicated. Past can't be changed, but the future can.

That night, everyone enjoyed Jason's cooking, Daphne and the new future.

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richarlotte · 4 months ago

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How I got my life together.

Getting your life together, and I mean really getting it together, should be a priority of yours. You can’t miss out on your life by staying in a pattern of losing it all, pulling it together as quickly and as carelessly as you can, and then losing it all again because you weren’t ready enough or devoted the first time. I made a choice to pull my life together when I was 18, and I’ve stayed improving myself ever since; I bettered my mental health, fixed my body, changed my mindset, found an aesthetic and style that worked for me and that I loved, and have done my part to keep steadily improving my life and my mindset. If you are devoted to yourself and your life, you will do well and find that the path towards your future will become much clearer as time goes on.

Exercising.

You need to be exercising, bettering your body, and taking the time to nourish yourself and your health. This means eating whole meals and taking the time to cook and prepare them, considering removing heavily processed foods and alcohol from your day-to-day diet, and taking the time to do at home or in gym workouts. I do Move with Nicole videos in the morning, finish up with a quick yoga session, go to the gym in the evenings, and make sure that my body is being fueled by real foods and being properly hydrated throughout the day. You will live in the same body for the rest of your life; you need to make sure that you’re caring for it and nourishing it in ways that will let it support you for the rest of your life. You won’t regret a health journey, and you should actively be on one.

Socializing.

Isolation will kill you, and if you already have anxiety, it will worsen it. You should be meeting people, getting to know them, leaving your comfort zone, and trying new things. Your late teens and early twenties are all about taking the time to know people, making and losing friends, and figuring out the sorts of people you want to have in your life forever. You have to socialize, go to social events, join clubs and different activities, and get out of the house. I’m a person who believes in spending time around and loving other people, and that has saved my life. If you aren’t sure how to socialize, don’t have friends, or aren’t sure of what you like, now’s the time to learn how. You don’t become good at meeting people in one day; it takes time and failure, but the more you do to leave your comfort zone, the easier it will become as time moves along.

Studying.

I believe that life is meant for learning. It’s important to always be learning, to always be bettering yourself, and to always be keeping your mind busy. While I strongly believe that every woman should have a university education and a degree, I understand that it’s not always feasible. If it’s not possible for you to get a degree, you have to learn a trade, a skill, a language, or find something to occupy your mind so that it’s not idle. It’s important to always be doing something, and it’s important that you’re pursuing a passion; life isn’t much if you’re not passionate about what you’re doing, so you have to find them and do more with them. Education can come from work experience; it can come from pursuing projects, cultivating wisdom, and spending your time nourishing your mind and reading books. Life is a learning experience, and you should be in constant pursuit of educational excellence.

Seeing More.

Life is about seeing more and seeing things you’ve never experienced. If you’ve always wanted to watch a tennis match, step into the ocean, or see the sights in a new city, now’s the time to start making plans to do those things. We all deserve to see and experience beautiful things, so it’s important that we find the time to do so. If I hadn’t made the time to find beauty in the mundane, I wouldn’t have made it far. You don’t have to spend money pursuing beauty; I find the most beauty I’ve seen in my life is found on short walks and time spent around my city. You should spend your time both looking for beauty and becoming beautiful too.

Doing More.

Doing more is next. I’ve spent my life trying new things, failing, succeeding, having a good time, and learning about what I enjoy. You should be doing more; your twenties are for moving away, visiting new cities, trying new foods, working jobs you hate and finding jobs you love, going to new restaurants and getting into new relationships, and doing more with yourself. All of the greatest women I’ve ever known have told me that they spent next to no time resting in their twenties because they had so much life to live. I’d encourage you to do things without holding yourself back, and if you don’t know what to do with yourself, find things to do. You can't waste your youth being idle; now is the time to get out of your room, see the world and what it has to offer, and do more with yourself and your gifts.

Richarlotte x

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suksatoru · 3 months ago

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001. CARNATIONS.

Touya did not like to be touched.

That was one of the first things you learned from your colleagues' mistakes. You were now the seventh doctor to try and understand the layers of the former villain known as Dabi.

The news outlets had failed miserably in catching the alluring hues of his cerulean gaze. That was the first thing you concluded when you first met him.

As his psychiatrist, your job was simple. To understand Touya’s emotional trauma and help him live the rest of his life to the fullest. He was an absolute wreck. That was all anyone would call him—a mess who didn't deserve a second chance at life. Yet here he was.

His family had more than enough money to put him into a good institution, one where he could possibly recover from the terrible life he once led. It's quiet. The hospital's sterile environment is both making his skin crawl and oddly comforting. The gentle hum of the machines hooked up to his body and the bandages wrapped around every inch of skin did nothing to lessen the unease he felt when he heard the familiar telltale sign of a new doctor coming into his room.

The door rattled quietly, the sound of keys clinking together on the other side doesn't even stir him anymore. He hears slow footsteps entering through the hallway, your voice following them as you call out his name questioningly to confirm you're in the right room.

The way you say his name so softly sounds like you're calling out to an angel, and Touya wants to tear the words from your throat the moment he hears them.

He doesn't respond. When you approach him, he's staring at the wall in front of him.

He's sitting up, eyes barely open after it being only an hour out of one of many surgeries he would have to go through. He lays limp and utterly powerless in this stupid hospital bed—one of the strongest villains in the world was reduced to this now. Touya wonders if he's ever felt more pathetic, and no—he has never felt quite this low before.

"I'm Y/n, Touya."

You're smiling. That's the first thing he notices when his eyes finally move to where you sat on the stool beside his bed. All the doctors before you were the same, mildly disgusted but putting up a front nonetheless to try and deal with him. He thinks you're a little insane for looking at him with such a tender look in your eyes—and if he had the strength, he would tell you to leave.

"I'm your new doctor, Touya. I know you've gone through quite a few before me, but I hope you and I are able to get along!"

You shift in your seat with a nervous smile when he just stares. His half lidded eyes don't even bother to look anywhere else as he slowly takes in every detail of your face. Half of your hair is pulled back to reveal soft and full cheeks—your eyes crinkle as you lean forward with a soft smile.

"Unfortunately, you're kind of stuck with me. You've gone through the entire rotation of the best psychiatrists we have here—but that's ok! I understand you've been through a lot, so you and I are going to take this journey together, ok?"

Touya wants to cry. He wants to rip his hair out and slice his throat open because everything hurts and on top of all this misery, he has a pounding headache. He musters up the strength to talk. His voice is hoarse from not speaking for weeks, raspy with an undertone of something so terribly mean that you can't help but lean back in your seat with wide eyes when the words leave his scarred lips.

"Get out."

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; anddd our journey begins! :)

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banyangulf-if · 4 months ago

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"Feed on life as it feeds on you."

Answering a house sitting advertisement for a wealthy family friend, you make the journey to Southern Florida to fulfill a contract of seven weeks in exchange for enough money to float you comfortably through your final year of university. With keys to a mansion just a few hours from the beach and the promise of solitude under the Florida sun, you’re set for the summer of a lifetime – until you show up to the house and find out your employer is dead.

Unbeknownst to you, something hidden in the mansion calls for your claim – something many are willing to kill to possess, regardless of if you are caught in the crossfire. Attempt to leave and live ignorantly, blissfully under a veil of paradise, or capture what riches live hidden in secret.

Banyan Gulf by V. Lovisa @vlovisa

Customize yourself, the Main Character. Choose your name, appearance, gender, pronouns, and a variety of other factors throughout the story.

Interact with and influence your relationship with a cast of five main romanceable characters and other side characters.

Form alliances, or work on your own to uncover the secrets that await you.

Decorate the room you stay in at your employer’s mansion. Choose wall color, bedding, decor, and special personalized elements to help you feel at home during your stay.

Choose your attire for formal events and other select scenes.

Determine your motivations – does money, fame, love, or something deeper drive you to find what lies hidden in the mansion?

Luisa Morales (she/her) – Ambitious as she is brutally honest and determined, Luisa is an entrepreneur at heart. She aims to someday open her own tattoo shop, she’s been practicing tattooing since she turned 18. Her best friend Drew has become her practice canvas, since she’s run out of room for more work on her left arm and can’t tattoo left-handed. Luisa intends to make it big on her dreams, no matter the cost, and desires to create a sturdy and steady life for herself doing what she loves. She is 24 years old and 5’2. Luisa is Mexican, with brown eyes and long wavy hair that she has dyed dark cherry red.

Drew Robins (he/him OR she/her) – When they are not working at their family’s restaurant or deliberately annoying their best friend Luisa, Drew is a recreational hobby addict. From drawing to sports to drink mixing to mountain climbing, Drew has tried just about everything. They aspire to create a life where money isn’t a concern and they can pursue every one of their passions freely. Drew is 23 years old and 6’1. Male Drew has relatively short curly blond hair, and female Drew has long curly blonde hair that reaches the middle of her back. Drew has pale blue eyes and is white.

Lorelei Wildes (she/her) – Once the most popular person in Banyan Gulf due to the extent of her family’s riches but now socially disgraced due to a family scandal, Lorelei is burnt out of the city. Her one aspiration now is to escape, buy herself a house so grand it’s a step short of a vacation resort close to the beach, and live in the most luxurious way possible. Lorelei is drawn to everything beautiful, everything restful, everything perfect. She is 24 years old and 5’8. Lorelei is white, with green eyes and light brown hair that almost reaches her waist.

Oscar Carter (he/him) – An aspiring screenwriter and film director, Oscar has his sights set on becoming the most renowned filmmaker in the world. It’s a sizable ambition, one many have told him is impossible, but through it all Oscar has remained a dreamer, an artist, and is making progress on his aspirations through directing music videos and short films. Oscar is 23 years old and 5’11. He is black, with dark eyes and black locs that reach just below his collarbones.

Ronan/Ruby Hall (he/him OR she/her)– With their eccentric sense of humor and work as a chef and part-time graphic designer, Hall is known for their individuality and drive to live in their own way. In the back of their mind they hold the goal of being a full-time artist someday when they have the time and focus to give to creating. For now, they’re content to live in their own chaos. Hall is 25 years old and 5’9. They are mixed Thai and white, with light brown eyes and black hair (an overgrown mid fade for Ronan, and hair that reaches just below her collarbones for Ruby).

POLY ROUTES:

Lorelei & Oscar – The love they once shared has faded, but is not yet lost. Only you might ignite what lies dormant between them, if you so wish.

Luisa & Ruby/Ronan Hall – Their relationship could never feel complete without the warmth you bring to unite them.

Banyan Gulf is an interactive fiction game that is intended for mature audiences. The game includes many potentially upsetting themes, such as foul language, smoking, drinking and recreational drugs, general violence, weapons (knives, guns, etc), death, murder, suicide and suicidal ideation, cannibalism, gore, and optional romantic and/or sexual content. Please be mindful of these warnings when considering if Banyan Gulf is right for you.

DEMO TBA — BUY ME A COFFEE WHILE I WRITE

asks always welcome :) reblogs and comments appreciated!!!

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goldfades · 4 months ago

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FLIPPED──RAFE CAMERON

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine it's crucial that we stand in solidarity with those who need our support. right now, the people of palestine are facing unimaginable hardship, and it's up to all of us to do what we can to help. whether it's raising awareness, donating to relief organizations, or supporting calls for justice and peace, every action counts. we can amplify their voices, shed light on their struggles, and work towards a future where every individual can live with dignity and freedom. your support can make a difference! FREE PALESTINE!

for this request, for my baby jojo! @wanderlusturous

─ summary | rafe is completely devoted to his pregnant wife, spoiling her endlessly and preparing for the arrival of their baby girl, who becomes the center of his world. after a life of feeling lost and disconnected, rafe finally finds purpose in his new family, vowing to protect and love them unconditionally.

─ pairing | rafe cameron x wife!reader

─ warnings | such a sweet, domestic bliss fic! rafe spoiling tf outta reader, rafe being a girl dad, mentions of toxic family, but other than that it's just so sweet.

─ ev's notes | the chokehold that gif has on me is... insane. also wheezie needs to be included more in fics like... shes so awesome (ik she hasnt done anything but thats kinda the point) ALSOOOO I NEED MORE DOMESTIC RAFE LIKEEEE, PLS SEND ME REQUESTS. i might do a part 2 for this fic cause it's so heartwarming i cannot

ok love u bye!!! pls send me requests!!!!!!

⇨ missing out on updates? check out my masterlist!

You’re lounging on the couch, wrapped in the softest cashmere blanket Rafe could find, a far cry from the one you had before. That one had been comfortable too, but Rafe never thought it was enough for you, not when his princess deserved the best. The soft hum of the air conditioner fills the house, the only sound in the otherwise still afternoon, while your fingers absentmindedly trace patterns on your growing belly.

Sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the room, and you sink further into the cushions, feeling the quiet luxury that has come to define your life since you met Rafe. He’s out right now, picking up God knows what — probably more baby things, even though you already have a mountain of stuff piled high in the nursery.

He never does anything halfway. Every stroller, every onesie, every diaper cream has to be top-of-the-line, the best that money can buy. He doesn’t just spoil you, he suffocates you with care, but in the softest, sweetest way possible, so you don’t even mind. No, you love it, revel in it, feeling like you’ve been plucked straight out of one life and placed into another, where all you have to do is exist and be adored.

The front door clicks open, and you can feel his presence before you even see him. He’s always like that, larger than life even when he’s trying to be quiet. You sit up a little, trying to hide the way you’ve been lazily sprawled out, but he’s already at your side, his hands gently urging you back down.

“Relax, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your forehead. His eyes flicker to your belly, then back to you, that familiar mixture of awe and protectiveness gleaming in his gaze. "I've got everything handled. You just need to rest."

You open your mouth to protest, to tell him that you could've gotten up, could’ve helped him with the bags, but he’s already shaking his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as if he can read your thoughts before you even say a word.

"Not a chance." He sets the bags down, filled to the brim with things you know you'll never touch, because he’ll do everything for you. “You’re not lifting a finger. Not while I’m around.”

His voice, low and firm, sends a shiver down your spine, the kind of reassurance that only Rafe can offer. He crouches down beside the couch, running his hands over your legs, making sure you’re comfortable—like he always does. His touch is possessive, protective, the kind that says without words, you’re mine to take care of.

You let out a soft sigh, sinking back against the plush cushions as his hand glides up to rest gently on your belly, almost like a reflex now. You’ve noticed that since you started showing, his hands always find their way there. Like he has to be close, to make sure everything’s okay. He’s obsessed, really—your safety, your comfort, your every need. It’s like a switch flipped the moment he found out about the baby, and he hasn’t let you out of his sight since.

“Everything’s fine, Rafe,” you say softly, trying to reassure him, but the way his brow furrows ever so slightly tells you he doesn’t quite believe you. He’s always worrying.

“I know,” he replies, but there’s a tension in his voice, the kind that tells you he’s already thinking five steps ahead—about the doctor’s appointments, the vitamins, the nursery. He leans in, kissing the top of your head as his other hand gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “But you’re carrying our baby. I’m not taking any chances.”

You smile at his overprotectiveness. It used to overwhelm you at first, this all-consuming devotion, but now? Now it’s like second nature, the way he hovers, always making sure you’re not doing too much, that you’re not straining yourself. He’s like a human safety net, never more than a few feet away, always anticipating what you might need before you even know it yourself.

He stands and starts unpacking the bags he brought in—high-end baby gear, of course. Another designer bassinet, this one with extra features that make it look more like a spaceship than something an infant should sleep in. You watch him move around the room with purpose, his movements fluid and sure, as if orchestrating a plan only he’s privy to. He barely spares you a glance, but you know he’s hyper-aware of your presence, always keeping you in his peripheral vision.

“You didn’t have to get all this,” you murmur, though you already know the answer. You say it more out of habit now, like you need to put up some token resistance to the endless stream of gifts and gadgets.

“I know, but I wanted to,” he says without looking up, his tone casual, but you can hear the edge of finality in it. It’s the same way he talks about everything when it comes to you—like there’s no room for negotiation. “Only the best for you and the baby. You deserve it.”

He sets down the bassinet and moves back to you, taking a seat on the edge of the couch, his hand immediately finding yours. He strokes the back of your hand with his thumb, and you lean into him, letting yourself relax in the comfort of his presence. For all his intensity, there’s something so soothing about him when he’s like this—calm, focused, entirely devoted to making sure you’re taken care of.

“Rafe, really… I don’t need all this. I just—” You hesitate, biting your lip. You want to say that all you really need is him, that he’s already more than enough. But before you can finish, his lips brush against your temple, silencing your thoughts.

“Don’t worry about it, baby. I’ve got you. I’ve got everything.” His voice is gentle, but there’s an unshakable confidence behind it, the kind that makes you believe, even for a moment, that the world outside doesn’t exist. That as long as you’re in his orbit, nothing can touch you.

You glance over at the bassinet, the sleek, modern design standing out starkly against the warmth of the room. It’s absurd, really, how much Rafe is willing to spend, how nothing seems too extravagant when it comes to you. But that’s just him—lavish, obsessive, determined to give you a life where you never have to want for anything. And despite how overwhelming it can be sometimes, you can’t deny how intoxicating it is to be the center of someone’s universe like this.

“You think you’ll ever let me out of this house again?” you tease, half-joking, half-serious. He hasn’t exactly been keen on you going anywhere without him lately. Even the grocery store is off-limits unless he’s there to push the cart and carry the bags.

Rafe chuckles softly, but there’s a protective gleam in his eye. “Not until the baby’s here. And even then, only if I’m with you.” He’s only half-joking, and you both know it. The idea of you out in the world, vulnerable, without him by your side—it’s something he can’t stand.

You roll your eyes playfully, but the warmth that spreads through your chest is undeniable. It’s not like you want to go anywhere without him. Not really. The truth is, you’ve gotten used to this, the way he dotes on you, the way he watches over you like you’re the most precious thing in his life. It’s addictive, being adored like this.

“Fine, fine,” you say with a mock sigh of defeat, settling back against the pillows. “I guess I’ll just have to get used to being spoiled.”

Rafe’s smile widens, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “Good,” he says, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, lingering. “Cause that’s not changing anytime soon.”

───

The moment he found he was having a girl, his world flipped upside down in the best way possible. The baby shower was small and private, only inviting your close friends and family. And for Rafe, he only invited Wheezie. He doesn't really have family or friends he'd want to be around—he only needs you, really.

Rafe never really had a family, not until he met you. Sarah was... well, Sarah. She used to be a part of his life, but they were worlds apart now, and Rafe had long since stopped trying to bridge the gap between them. She had her own life, her own people, and it didn’t overlap with his anymore. Rafe had always felt like an outsider in his own family, never really fitting in, never living up to what was expected of him. His father was distant, his mother gone, and his siblings—well, they weren’t exactly close.

But you? You were different. From the moment he met you, something shifted. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had something solid, something real. You gave him a reason to try, a reason to build something better than what he grew up with. He didn’t just want a family—he wanted your family. One that wasn’t broken or full of secrets and betrayals, but one where he could be the man he’d always hoped to be.

The moment he found out you were having a girl, everything inside him shifted. He wasn’t just Rafe Cameron anymore. He was going to be a father—a girl dad. The idea scared him at first, the weight of it hitting him harder than anything ever had. He wanted to be perfect for her, for both of you. He wanted to give his daughter everything he never had growing up: stability, love, safety. Things he never knew he craved until now.

The baby shower was intimate, just the way you liked it. Soft pastels draped the room, and delicate decorations hung from the ceiling, a far cry from the over-the-top events Kooks were known for. But that wasn’t you. And that’s why Rafe loved you. You made everything feel simple, real, stripping away the excess that had always suffocated him growing up.

Wheezie was there, of course, quiet and awkward as ever, but Rafe didn’t care. She was the only family he had left that mattered, the only one who hadn’t looked at him like he was too far gone, beyond saving. She wasn’t like Sarah, who had washed her hands of him long ago, or Ward, who saw him as nothing more than a disappointment.

As you sat in the corner, surrounded by a small group of friends, Rafe couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were glowing—literally glowing, your skin radiant, your hands instinctively resting on your belly. You were laughing at something Wheezie said, but all he could think about was how surreal this all was. How he’d gotten here. From the chaos of his old life to this—a quiet, perfect moment.

Rafe didn’t need anyone else, not really. His friends? They were more like shadows of a life he’d left behind. Toxic, empty relationships that had never filled the void. But with you? He felt whole. He didn’t need the Outer Banks, the parties, the fake smiles and empty promises. All he needed was sitting right in front of him—his future, his family.

You caught his eye from across the room and smiled, and just like that, the world shrank down to just the two of you. It always did. Everything else faded away when you were around. He crossed the room, ignoring the small talk and the laughter, his focus entirely on you.

“Hey, princess,” he murmured, kneeling beside your chair, one hand instantly finding your belly like it always did. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before leaning his head against it, closing his eyes for just a second to ground himself in the moment. “You good? Need anything?”

You shook your head, resting your hand on top of his. “I’m fine, Rafe. You don’t need to keep checking on me every five minutes.”

He huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor in it, just a soft kind of affection. “Can’t help it,” he said quietly, opening his eyes to look up at you. “I’ve gotta make sure my girls are okay.”

Your heart melted at that, at the way his entire face softened whenever he talked about you and the baby. Rafe Cameron—the guy everyone thought was a lost cause, a wreck waiting to happen—was now the most devoted man you’d ever met. He wasn’t perfect, far from it. But he tried—tried so damn hard for you.

“Everything’s perfect,” you reassured him, squeezing his hand. “And you’re spoiling me too much. Again.”

A mischievous grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “Not possible. I’ll spoil you both for the rest of my life if I have to.”

You laughed, leaning down to kiss him on the forehead. “You already are.”

He looked up at you, his eyes full of something soft, something vulnerable. “You know… I never thought I’d have this. A family. Not like this.”

You reached out, gently cupping his face in your hand, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “Well, now you do. And you’re going to be a great dad, Rafe.”

For a moment, he just stared at you, his eyes flickering with emotions he didn’t quite know how to put into words. But then he nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly, as if he were afraid to let go.

“Yeah,” he whispered, his voice thick with something unspoken. “I guess I do.”

And when his baby girl finally came, his world cracked open in ways he never thought possible. Everything changed in an instant—the noise of the hospital, the rush of doctors, the sterile white walls—all of it faded into the background the moment he saw her. Tiny, fragile, perfect. His heart seemed to stop and race at the same time as the nurse handed her to him, her soft whimpers breaking through the silence like a delicate melody.

Rafe had never known he could love something this much. Not until he was holding his daughter in his arms, her little fingers curling instinctively around his thumb, her eyes barely opening to reveal the softest hint of blue. In that moment, every bad decision he’d ever made, every reckless move, every mistake—it all faded away. Nothing mattered anymore except this.

She was his.

His chest felt tight, his throat constricting as he tried to wrap his head around it all. The weight of responsibility hit him like a wave, but it wasn’t fear that came with it. It was a sense of purpose, a deep, unshakable need to protect her, to give her everything. To never let her feel the kind of emptiness he’d grown up with.

You were lying in the bed, exhausted but glowing, watching him with a tired but content smile. Rafe caught your gaze and smiled back, tears threatening to spill over as he gently cradled your daughter against his chest, her tiny body fitting perfectly in the crook of his arm.

“She’s so small,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, barely above a breath. He felt like he was holding the most precious thing in the world, something so delicate he was terrified of breaking her. But at the same time, he didn’t want to let her go. Ever.

“She’s perfect,” you murmured, your voice soft and full of warmth. “She’s ours.”

Rafe swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were quickly clouding his vision. His thumb gently brushed over the soft tufts of hair on his daughter’s head, his heart swelling with so much love it almost hurt.

“She’s more than perfect,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I—I don’t even know what to say.”

You smiled gently, reaching out for his hand. “You don’t have to say anything. You’re doing it, Rafe. You’re already her father.”

The words hit him like a punch to the chest. He’d never been sure if he’d be good enough for this, good enough for you, for the family you’d built together. But looking at his daughter, her tiny face so serene in his arms, he knew he’d never stop trying. He’d move mountains, tear down the sky, do anything and everything to keep her safe.

Rafe stood there for what felt like hours, rocking her gently as you dozed off, exhausted from labor. He couldn’t take his eyes off his daughter, couldn’t believe she was real. She had your nose, your delicate features, and he could already see hints of his own wild streak in her.

It terrified him, and yet it filled him with a pride he couldn’t put into words.

As she shifted slightly in his arms, letting out the tiniest yawn, Rafe felt his entire world center itself around her. His priorities had changed in an instant, everything he’d once thought was important—money, power, even his own survival—seemed so insignificant now. The only thing that mattered was the little girl sleeping soundly against his chest.

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering as he whispered, “I’m never letting you go. I promise.”

And in that moment, he meant it. Every word.

He didn’t need anything else—no approval from his family, no redemption from his past. He had you, and now he had her. His little family. A family that was his to protect, his to love, his to spoil with every fiber of his being.

Rafe knew he’d made mistakes—plenty of them—but as he held his daughter close, he made a silent vow to her. He’d be better. He’d always be better for her.

Because now, his world wasn’t just about him anymore. It was about her, about you. And for the first time in his life, he had something worth fighting for that didn’t come with strings attached or conditions. It was just love. Pure, overwhelming, unconditional love.

And Rafe Cameron was never going to let that go.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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monstercangirlofficial · 3 months ago

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My heart goes out to people thinking about leaving the US today, to people who are immigrants, to black people, to trans people, to women, disabled people, indigenous people, to people who have to go to work today at black owned businesses, to people who are visibly trans, to people of color, to people from marginalized communities, systems and therians, people struggling with money, people struggling to find a job, people who don't have a support network, to people living outside of the US who are affected by its actions, to people from Palestine, Congo, Sudan, to people who have already lived and suffered through fascism before, to people who will see and feel it for the first time, to people who wish they hadn't woken up today, to people who knew this would happen, to people who did whatever they could to stop this, people who thought they could make a difference but feel like they didn't do enough, and to everyone who is scared today, my heart goes out to you all. I love you

I hope you have people around you right now who will not rub in your face what an obvious outcome this was, but that your fear and sorrow are valid. I hope they can comfort and be there for you, when it feels like the world is crumbling around you. Today you might leave your house terrified, and I hope things go as well as they possibly can. Your fear isn't unfounded. You've very likely lived through this before, and many others did, and you'll get through it. It won't be easy. I'm sorry. We've been here before. Democracy has failed you before. You still matter. The lives of people who are struggling right now matter. A lot of people right now are afraid, contemplating suicide, reliving their trauma, and things feel hopeless. Marginalized people have survived a lot of horrible things. We've been there for each other, and we have to be there for each other right now too. You deserve dignity, but institutionalized democracy won't be there to give it to you. Please, look after yourself. You matter. The life that they're trying to take away from you matters. I love you

You can only try and be there for others and yourself. You can only try and do good, and follow your convictions. You can only try and stay alive and enjoy the company of those around you, to enjoy life, and to enjoy anything comforting right now. You can only try and organize yourself and your community, support others, comfort your friends, hug someone you care about. Make art, complain, do something, do anything. But rest too. You might be exhausted, and there's only so much you can do. Fixing this, fixing the world is not your personal responsibility, but a community effort. Focus on the small, manageable things. Be there for those who are close to you. Try not to overextend yourself. Drink some water, exercise, pick up a new hobby, write a poem. Comfort others and accept their comfort. They want you to be well as much as you want them to. You'll get through this. You'll live. I love you

#mine

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milchig-de · 2 months ago

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Caught 2

Pairing: Lighter Lorenz x Reader

Summary: You take care of Lighter after your session and he has a nightmare.

Warnings: Allusion to previous sexual activities, nightmares

Notes: Ok this is gonna be bad im writing this at 1 am publishing with no proof reading. I'll look over it tmrw.... have fun!

The next time you wake up, only an hour or so must have passed. Bleary, you open your eyes. You see Lighter's face- his expression still somewhat fucked out- his eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He doesn't move when you quietly call out his name.

Your room still has the same shitty curtains that let in sunlight even if they're closed, the same cutesy, fluffy carpet that Lucy insisted you needed to have and the same furniture you took great care to choose and buy from folks who simply needed money. An uncomfortable feeling spreads in you. A mix of your muscles screaming at you, your head pounding because of an insufficient amount of sleep and a healthy dose of half dried stickiness from where you're still covered in cum.... Right. That should probably be cleaned.

Groaning, you get up as gently as you can, to avoid waking Lighter up. Then you make your way to a small bathroom that you managed to shoehorn into the already small room. Wetting a cloth with warm water, you wipe yourself off first. It'd be great if you had your own shower, but the sink and toilet were already trouble enough.

After washing the cloth off, you wet it again. Sitting down at the edge of the bed, you stare at Lighter for a moment. The last beams of sunlight stream into your room, illuminating his face just right. His hair glints with a golden hint, his face more relaxed than you've ever seen it while awake. His lips parted, letting out soft snores every once in a while. The scars covering his body can only make you wonder what kind of life he's lived up until now.

Of course, you managed to roughly piece together bits and pieces to get a full picture but... You sigh. Perhaps you will never understand the full extent of the suffering he had, and likely still has, to endure.

For now though, you focus on wiping him down with the cloth.

Pulling back, you observe him once more. His chest still rises frequently and deeply, so he doesn't seem to have woken up. A bit of cum still remains on his side, right in the corner between his body and the bedsheets. You consider moving him to clean, but he's probably too heavy for you. So you satisfy youself with wiping the corners anyway and pushing down the bedding to get everything. After you're done, you wash the cloth off and hang it up to dry. You can wash it properly with the rest of your laundry.

Strewn about clothes from both you and Lighter cover the room. Picking all of them up, you fold them as neatly as you can and place them on the side. You consider putting on boxers, but since he's not wearing any, it's probably fine not to wear any either.

For the third time, you sit down to observe Lighter. Nothing has changed from his previous state. Perhaps it's your headache or your muscle ache that makes your brain so foggy you have to sit down before you continue your tasks.

But before you can move to lie down again, Lighter's chest starts moving up and down faster, almost erratically. On top of that, his limbs twitch, almost clenching his fists. His face scrunches up, seemingly in pain. It's obvious he's having a nightmare. You freeze; what the hell are you supposed to do in a situation like this?

He doesn't give you any time to think, becuase he lets out an awful sounding moan. You vaguely recall someone else comforting their beloved, so you decide to imitate that. Embracing him, you lie on top of him and wind your arms around him. You pepper his face with kisses, throwing in mumbles of "I love you" and "It's fine, it's okay. No one's hurting you" in.

It seems to work, as his breathing calms down soon after that, his expression and muscles relax. You're surprised, but he continues sleeping like nothing happened.

Your heart clenches at the thought that he had to endure this all by himself. You press another gentle kiss to his face, a tear escaping you. You sniffle a little and try to distract yourself by sorting out the muddled together blanket and covering both of you with it. With the headache you already have, crying would be fatal for you. So you manage to successfully suppress your outburst and lie down next to him, falling into a dreamless slumber.

#lighter x reader #lighter zzz x reader #lighter lorenz x reader #god i forgot i wrote not smut this time and wanted to tag it as such bruh #fuck... what else do i tag guys #ah #zzz x reader #zenless zone zero x reader #haha suck my dick #milky writing

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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oml hiiii, i rushed here immediately when i saw your requests are open ive been in love with the idea of maybe ghost having a teenage niece (his older brothers daughter) who he basically raised when he wasn't on duty but like none of the 141 knows about it because he keeps her a secret. He's basically her father at this point cause the rest of the family was murdered when she was only a baby. Anyways, you can do whatever you want with this prompt or not if you don't want to. But like I can totally just imagine Soap just seeing them in a Tescos and absolutely losing his shit when seeing a teenager swinging from his Lieutenants arm.

if you choose not to do this prompt that's completely fine!!! thank you!!!

—Sole Survivor

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞

When you were the only one to live, the sole survivor of that massacre, Simon knew he was in trouble.

He’d found you under the bed. The blood was still congealing over the wooden floors—whoever put you there, Tommy, his mother, Beth, or even his nephew, was all a mystery that no one would ever know the answer to. Yet, the larger question was how you, a baby, had managed to stay silent through it all.

Simon had picked you up with panicked breath and tears in his eyes as the sirens of the police had gotten closer, holding you to him as you blinked awake and yawned. The bodies of his family were strewn around the floor, broken and bent; murdered. But you. Little you.

Alive.

It would be best to leave you to be found by the authorities. To go somewhere far away from him and the future that was now stained into his soul—the pact of revenge and horror that would live through him like a brand. It was the right thing to do; the correct thing.

And then he remembers his mother’s eyes, and he’s already rushing to the back window while cradling your squirming body. The rest, of course, passed as the flow of time always did.

“I’m thinking we should have steak,” your voice pipes up as Simon grabs a bag of crisps from the shelf. Brown eyes blink down at you, balaclava tight to this face.

“You have steak money?” You were a teenager now, older and figuring life out one day at a time. He hadn’t told you the whole story, and he won’t until much later, but you know enough to a point that you were comfortable with.

You know your family loved you.

“You’re the one with the job,” he huffs at you as you utter under your breath.

“Exactly,” Simon grunts. “Eatin’ me out of house and home like I never feed you.”

“I,” you point a finger into the air, “am growing. Soon I’ll be just as tall as you, y’know that? I’ll be towering over everyone and giving them that same dead-eyed look that—” brown orbs level with you, unimpressed. You beam, punching his shoulder. “See! That one!”

“Fuckin’ piss off, would you?” Simon grumbles, moving down to the next aisle in his large and darkly-clothed glory. Your laugh trails after him, feet heavy on his heels. “Givin’ me a headache.”

You both walk around the Tesco, Simon getting strange looks while a beaming teenager walks beside him talking about supper, class, and anything in between. He offered short responses, sometimes sarcastic and sometimes serious—it depended, but the point was that he did answer you, no matter how pointless the conversation.

“I think I’m going to join a club this year,” you speak as you gaze at the items your Uncle puts in his basket. A gaze side-eyes you slowly.

“What, then?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, shoulder bumping into his arm and tilting your head. “Were you in any clubs?”

He grunts, shaking his head before a hand descends to your hair, ruffling it as you hiss in annoyance. “Never had time.” Simon hadn’t told you about his father or what he had done, and God help him if he ever uttered a word about it. That wasn’t something that mattered in your story, just his…he’d never place that weight on you willingly.

You frown as your uncle's arm loops your shoulders casually, keeping you to him as other people walk past you. Brown filters over posture and facial expressions—looking for the barest hint of ill-intent. When there’s nothing, and the forms move around you as easily as they had come, Simon’s attention leaves, and he continues on as if nothing had happened.

“Try Debate.” Your face turns to him, curious.

“Debate?” His eyes twinkle, and behind his face covering you immediately find the tell-tale twitch of a smirk.

“Argue so bloody well you could convince a rookie that a P890 can hold 10 rounds.”

You fight the shocked smile that pulls at your lips. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.” Eyes swirl, and a hand squeezes your arm; jostling you slightly.

“It’s a compliment.”

“You’ve always been shit at those.” You get a firm glare and a grunt from above.

“Fuckin’ language.” Your lips mock his response, making fun of him before he sends a flick of his thumb and forefinger into your temple.

“Hey!” Simon chuckles lowly, walking closer to the front of the store to get ready to pay as you mutter. “Jerk.”

It was a surprise though, that when you had barreled onto your Uncle’s back for an impromptu piggyback ride as payback—which the man didn’t even flinch at, already used to your antics—that the wide eyes of a man with a mohawk met yours. Your head is atop your Uncles, resting there as the lady at the front gives you strange looks from behind the register as Simon places the items in front of her.

He was gobsmacked, this stranger with his hair all done up like that, and your eyes blink at the display of tags around his neck that mirror your guardians. Broad, yet not so like Simon, and muscled, also, not as much as Simon.

“Unc?” You ask, and the man below you hums in question, pulling out notes from his wallet absentmindedly. “Who’s the guy with the mohawk?”

Simon tenses under you, fingers freezing.

“With the what?” It wasn’t really shocking that no one knew about you besides Price—and the only reason he knew was that in the event something happened to him, Simon had made the Captain swear that you would be taken care of.

Imagine his horror when his brown eyes darted up only to find them meeting the cobalt blues of his Sergeant, the Scot's hand outstretched to a box of pancake mix with a pack of Irn Bru in the other.

There’s an immediate sinking feeling in Simon’s chest when Johnny awkwardly tips his fingers in a shocked greeting—eyes flashing up to your curious face before he thins his lips and blinks.

You wave enthusiastically back.

“Oh, bloody fuckin’ hell.”

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plathfiles · 11 months ago

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Wildest Dreams | BW

pairing: bale!bruce wayne x fem!reader

warnings: tooth rotting fluff, not proof read, Bruce being lovesick, established relationship. lmk if I missed anything

a/n: send me requests 🥺🥺 also lmk if you want to be on the tag list

taglist: @bumblebeesfromvenus @allysunny @junmsli

☽☽☽

Bruce Wayne had lived a difficult life. Well maybe not as difficult as one would expect. He was a rich playboy with a mansion and had a butler. But losing his parents at a young age took a tole on the man.

You were Bruce’s sunlight, guiding him away from the darkness inside him. Of course, as Batman he made Gotham a better place. But you, you made Bruce Wayne a better person.

You and Bruce had plans tonight. As his day job of being a rich philanthropist and carrying on the Wayne legacy, he must attend and host gala’s for Gotham’s elite.

Tonight was one of those Gala’s. The Williams family made a large donation to fund a homeless shelter in Gotham. This meant, a lot of the homeless population in Gotham would be properly housed instead of living on the street and resulting to crime.

Bruce was never one to like Gala’s. He thought the people whom attended them were ingenuine and cared more about their appearance instead of actually helping the city.

You tried to tell him that at least the money would help. Bruce couldn’t argue with that. You were right. Their money would help Gotham, but their attitude was atrocious.

One night, Bruce had gotten visibly jealous as he caught a man — who used to be one of this father’s close confidants — hitting on you at the open bar.

“And do you know what I said to my fellow soldiers?” The creepy old man asked.

You were not interested in the conversation. He was very clearly flirting with you and it made you uncomfortable. “No, I don’t,” you said, vaguely and uninterested.

Suddenly a warm and comforting hand wrapped around your waist. A familiar kiss pressed against your cheek. You turned and a smile graced your features. Bruce.

“Did you tell them you’re flirting with someone who is old enough to be your daughter?” Bruce said to the old man. “If you will excuse us, we have to talk to Commissioner Gordon.”

As Bruce swept you away, he pinched your side playfully. “Thank you,” you said up to his ear.

“Couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else getting close to you. Especially an old creep like him,” he said.

You liked when Bruce got possessive, although you would let him know that. You wouldn’t be able to live it down.

You were currently getting ready for tonight’s gala, standing infront of your large mirror and putting on your diamond jewelry. It was a present that Bruce had gifted you.

“You look breathtaking,” Bruce said. Think of the devil and he shall appear. He’d leaning against the wall, looking at you in the mirror. You look at him, seeing him in the glass.

“Thank you,” you say softly, a blush covering your cheeks.

Bruce is wearing a fancy suit and a navy blue tie to match the color of your dress. You fix a diamond earring and then turn around to face him. Walking, towards him.

“Your tie is crooked Mr. Wayne,” you smile, fixing his tie.

He hums in response, placing his hands delicately on your waist. “What would I do without you?” Bruce asked softly.

You smile back at him, placing a reassuring kiss on his cheek.

During the gala, Bruce pulled you to him on the dance floor. “Dance with me?” He gently asked.

You nodded in agreement and placed your hand in his. Bruce placed a hand on your waist and connected your other hand. The classical music surrounding the dance floor, enveloped you both completely.

Your head rested on his shoulder and he looked down at you with such content and happiness. “I love you,” Bruce whispered.

Bruce had never shared this information before now. He’d thought it obviously, how could he not love you — be in love with you.

You looked up at him, your beautiful eyes staring back at his. “I love you too Bruce,” you replied.

It was simple and sweet. Bruce and you deserved a quiet night in each others company.

Bruce leaned forward to kiss you. Returning the kiss you moved your arms to wrap around his neck. He pulled you close.

From across the ballroom, a photographer snapped a picture. You two looked like Gotham’s happiest couple. Bruce had found the woman of his dreams and his home.

“You’re my wildest dreams,” Bruce said softly, rubbing his nose against your own. “I’m never letting you go.”

“Good,” you smiled contently.

#bale!bruce wayne x fem!reader #bale!bruce wayne #bale!bruce wayne x reader #chrisitan bale batman #Batman #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne #the dark night x reader #the dark knight trilogy #the dark knight #dc comics #christian bale fluff #christian bale x reader

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green-tea-in-absinthe-bottle · 4 months ago

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That boy is a problem

Niragi x gn!reader. Headcanons - Niragi as your roommate. Takes place before AiB story. GENERAL MASTERLIST

Having Niragi as your roommate includes:

🚩Having no privacy. This guy has a job in IT and no friends, he's 24/7 at home - working or gaming. He isn't used to having company so he's pretty excited and curious about his roommate. He will keep an eye on you, at first just casually hanging out in common spaces you spend a lot of time in like kitchen or living room, but once he gets comfortable he will just follow you around the house when he's bored. Good luck ignoring him - he will peak at your phone over your shoulder and comment on your personal conversations with people. Wants you to gossip about them with him. If you read a book he mocks some characters, especially if it's a cliche romance book. Niragi would try to make you share earbuds with him as well. Also he has great Wi-Fi but he's online so much all your devices will constantly lag. If you want to watch something on Netflix you have to convince him to watch with you or deal with shitty connection break every 10 minutes. If you guys watch something together he will try to initiate conversation every 10 minutes as well so it's not much better.

🚩 The only time you can just chill with him without him annoying you is when he plays games. He doesn't mind you watching (will flex his great strategy ✨) or even resting your head on his shoulder, but don't talk to him now. He's trying to think. When it's you playing games he will interrupt all the time, criticizing your tactics and advising you on what to do. It pisses you off, but he really knows what he's talking about and points out your mistakes with awful accuracy. BTW he always plays games with full volume and doesn't use headphones, if you ask him to do so he will just say it gives him headache. Thankfully you can't hear this noise upstairs so if you practice playing instruments or just need some silence from time to time you have a place to hide in. He mains Bryan Fury in Tekken btw

🚩Doesn't mind you using his things at all. You forgot to buy toothpaste? Take his, no problem. Your laptop stopped working? Just use his one. Whatever it is from shirts and hair ties to very personal belongings - he can share, but unfortunately he expects you to do the same in return. You just cooked some food? Too bad, he wants some.Oh, you are thirsty and got yourself something to drink? He wants a sip. Yes, from the same cup or bottle you drink from. If you use bonnets he will steal them, secretly wants you to braid his hair. Thankfully when it comes to household chores he is just as good at sharing, he lived alone most of his adult life so feel free to leave things you find unpleasant to him, with one exception. He can't cook for shit. Legit would set the kitchen on fire. If you ask him he might help you take hot things out of oven or wash some veggies.

🚩Niragi has no sense of personal space, so be ready to get tickled or picked up by him out of nowhere,your irritated expression and cute squeaks humor him more than he would admit. Be happy he isn't as unhinged as his Borderlands version or he would lick you just to get reaction out of you. He isn't openly perverted but will regularly visit your bedroom at night for a "sleepover", trying to sleep in one bed with you. Might or might not try to cuddle with you, depending on how much and for how long he knows you.Will touch your things, play with your claw clips and ask you about everything you put on your face during skincare routine.

🚩He hates to be alone and will do anything he can to stop you from moving out, he doesn't care if he hurts somebody in the process. If you try to pack your things some of them will mysteriously disappear, if you try to get a better job that will allow you to make enough money to buy your own place he will sabotage you so you get late for job interview. He doesn't give a shit that he has to pay the bigger part of all the bills cause your part - time job is so underpaid. Don't even try to get a boyfriend that could move you into his own apartment - Niragi will do everything in his power to get you two to break up.Yes, including lying to both of you and making your boyfriend think you don't love him or that you're cheating on him. At one point the way he is always hanging around somewhere near you starts to feel more sad than creepy to you. It's a bit as if he was afraid to ask to be included but desperately craved connection with somebody.Without lowering your guard you just let him approach you for as long as he behaves.

🚩Pre - Borderlands version of Niragi doesn't have the balls to be pushy towards you, or maybe this side of his nature didn't wake up yet, so don't worry about him making an unwanted move on you.Still, he will definitely offer to "cheer you up" in a special way if you have a bad day. He will walk around shirtless and flash his tongue piercing at you to fluster you, might try to convince you to sit on his lap when he plays. You are banned from his room when he works or he would get distracted and nothing would get done, but won't be mad if you bring him food.

🚩Even if most of the time your coexistence is both possible and sometimes even enjoyable, sooner or later his issues will come to the surface, so if you want to live in peace I would suggest convincing him to go to therapy. Sooner or later his fear of rejection and impulsiveness will make your life harder. He doesn't like it when you go out with other friends cause he is once again left all alone, waiting for you to come back, knowing you have option of spending time with other people while he has nobody but you. Niragi is afraid that you only spend time with him because you have to live with him and you will cut him off once you can move out.When he feels insecure he will get extremely pissed off and passive aggressive. If you try to prevent this by treating him differently than usual he will see it as manipulation. Huge trust issues.

#alice in borderland #niragi suguru #aib niragi #niragi alice in borderland #niragi x reader #x reader

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alfredosauce50 · 2 months ago

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Dear, Sasha

[Russia x reader]

Wordcount: 11, 834

Content warning: Heavily explicit NSFW content. R18+ only.

Synopsis: Being born into Russian high society is just as much of a blessing as it is a curse. You live a life of comfort and luxury, but at the expense of your own happiness. Just when you think you’ve had enough, a man catches your eye, and looking at him is like looking into a mirror. You eventually meet him at a ball, and upon dancing with him, an intense, unspoken passion begins.

As you get closer to him, you start falling for his intelligence and sensitivity. But he keeps retreating within himself and running away, breaking your heart in the process. You eventually track him down on a train leaving Moscow, and in a fit of passion, you slap him across the face. Shocked by the magnitude of your feelings, he chases you with no intention of letting the fire die out.

Imperial Russia, 1875. A frozen empire on the brink of collapse. While the rest of Europe liberated itself from decadence and poverty, the state remained an antique of the past. There was still a stark division between high society and peasants. You either worked the land or went to dizzying ballroom parties until you went mad from the decadence of it all.

That was your life.

Only you always thought you were born on the wrong side of history. Not that you ever said it out loud, because how could you? Having come from a long line of nobility, everything was handed to you with a silver spoon. Money, lavish estates, a noble name, all inherited from the past generations of your family.

“Gilbert? Are you ready?” You marched down the hall, heels clacking against the floor. The dress you wore was white, off-shoulder, and poured elegantly down to your feet. Around your neck was a delicate string of pearls, and hanging from your ears was a pair of dainty earrings. Everything you wore was fit for a bride, which was fitting for your circumstances.

“Almost!”

You arrived at the doorway of your cousin’s bedroom, and the man himself was standing in front of a mirror, checking his appearance. He was in a white tuxedo, making for quite the dashing bachelor. For someone who had no absolutely no interest in being tied down, he always tried so hard for high society.

“Why is it that every time we go to parties, you’re always the last one out the door?” You asked.

“I’m not good with time, you know that.” He turned to you, arms stiffly by his sides. “So, how do I look?”

“Irresistible.”

“Good. You don’t look too bad yourself,” He walked over, getting you to let out a laugh. “Now let’s get going.”

“You know, I’m starting to get tired of these parties,” You admitted as you both descended the staircase. Waiting just outside the front door was the family’s horse and carriage. “Seems like an awful lot of effort to meet people you’ll never even talk to again.”

“No, it’s for when you accidentally bump into them on your train ride to and from Moscow,” He grinned.

“You got that right.” You mused.

It was lonely staying by yourself in Saint Petersburg. Every year when Winter came rolling around, turning the country into a snowy wasteland, it was practically unbearable. Fortunately, you had a cousin to share your pain with, and he just so happened to despise the country’s state of affairs as much as you.

“I’m really glad for you, Gilbert. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” You commented in the carriage.

“Of course you are,” He hummed, though his mirth only lasted so long when he caught the expression you had. It was a little sad, but perhaps you’d been that way for quite some time. “I know that look.”

You lifted your gaze to him quietly.

“What’s wrong?” He leaned in from across you.

“It’s nothing.” You sighed, turning away.

“It’s never nothing.” He plopped down next to you.

“Okay, fine. I just don’t know if this kind of life is right for me. All the socializing, the dancing, I just can’t take it anymore. I’m putting on some kind of persona so I’m not rejected from everything I’ve ever known.”

Gilbert softened his gaze as he listened to you speak. And you were right about everything. He wasn’t one to follow rules, or rather, he had quite the disdain for them. He was childish, eccentric, and had no qualms against staying that way forever. But high society was just as much of a curse as it was a blessing.

“Yeah.” He murmured, gaze falling.

If you didn’t fit in, you were as good as dead.

“Maybe I should’ve been a farmer.” You mused.

“Trust me. You do not want to be a farmer.”

“So I just marry rich and the end?”

“That’s how the world works, unfortunately.”

”That’s how Russia works.” You corrected.

“Yeah, but it worked out pretty well for the two of us, didn’t it? Look on the bright side.” The albino kicked back next to you. If you didn’t already know him, you’d say he was everything wrong with this country.

“You say that now, but when it’s your turn to get married, you won’t be this relaxed.” You remarked.

“I’m twenty-two. I still have time,” He closed his eyes. Not a moment passed before he opened one to look at you teasingly. “You’re running out of it, though. You’re telling me you’re a twenty year-old woman and still unmarried? There must be something wro-”

You glared at him and he shut up pretty quick.

“I just want to meet the right person, okay? Is that really too much to ask for?” You frowned again.

“Ah, you’re so old-fashioned, (F/N).” Gilbert almost swooned. “But that’s why you’re my favorite.”

Ever since your debut two years ago, the subject had been looming over you as the bane of your existence. Finding the one, though it was more of a social obligation than something you really wanted. Romantic love was an illusion of the old order. People married for duty, and you feared that one day, you would have to too. All of these social events and soirées were for that reason, and the more you lingered on that, the less enchanting they seemed.

The grandest estates could not tempt you, nor the glistening chandeliers that hung overhead. Not the enticing display of exotic fruits on the refreshments table, nor the enchanting string instruments. When you got to the dance floor, you curtsied for your partner, who was one of many that you would cycle through that night. Their faces were a blur, their conversations a bore, each a copy of a copy.

None of this was real.

All of this was an illusion, a distraction for the dawn of an empire. You’d been stuck in this haze for many years, only now just realizing the thickness of it, like this life was everything you would ever know. All of these thoughts raced through your head until your heart began pounding, like you were on the verge of collapsing. The room spun faster and faster as you lost yourself, but that was when you saw him.

A uniformed cavalry officer in all white.

You were never one to stare, let alone at a man, but his appearance was so unique, it was distracting. What more was that he was so tall and broad, it was hard not to look at him. But you did more than just that. As he stood near the edge of the ballroom, you gave him a few curious glances, perhaps too many to be considered inconspicuous. His skin was whiter than snow, soft and smooth like powder. He had a long and rather large nose, but it suited him. As for his hair, it was platinum blonde, and slightly wavy.

It framed a matured and full face that scanned the room for other people-watchers. He seemed a lot more observant than most, and perhaps that served a role in his isolation. But that made the two of you.

As if he felt your stare on him, he glanced at you.

Then, he smiled.

You froze, hypnotized by his eyes. In your lifetime here in Russia, you’ve never seen anything like them. His eyes were a soft lavender, and so vivid against his white cap. They were devastatingly beautiful and so rare, you felt lonely just by gazing into them. Or was it because it felt like you were looking into a mirror?

A week later, you attended an opera with Gilbert.

The man was escaping your mind by then, but fate decided otherwise. As you sat amongst hundreds of faces, yours was being watched by someone else. You scanned the audience with your opera glasses as the woman on stage performed her piece, reaching a high crescendo. That was when you spotted him.

The officer from the ball.

And he was already staring at you.

Your eyes went wide ever so slowly, enchanted by how bold he was being. He wasn’t nervous about being discovered at all, even removing his opera glasses to show his striking lavender eyes, as if to show it was him. It was riveting to be noticed, and even more so when he made it obvious. He wanted you to know he was watching you, just as you had been watching him. What were his intentions?

Or was it all a mere coincidence?

You didn’t know what to think, but one thing was for sure. He had piqued your attention, and you made it a point to find out who he was. The next time you saw him again was at another ball, and once the opportunity came, you walked up to your cousin to do exactly that. He was drinking vodka out of a glass, and he didn’t seem like he’d stop anytime soon.

“Who’s that?” You stared back at the man.

“Ivan Braginsky,” Gilbert answered.

Finally, a name to match the face.

Funnily enough, your cousin didn’t need to look to confirm who you were staring at. Had the man done something to warrant such a reputation, or was it his captivating looks that called for so much attention?

“Another rich cavalry officer, I guess. Apparently, he doesn’t care for women -- if you know what I mean.”

There it was.

“Where did you hear that from?” You shot him a look, strangely disheartened by the thought.

“Word of mouth, what else?”

“And you listen to that nonsense?”

“It’s not just me. See how everybody else is strategically avoiding him aside from a polite nod?”

You turned to the officer, watching him for a short period before noticing he was indeed the solitary type. He never waltzed with any women, and nobody seemed to be striking up much conversation with him aside from other officers. You didn’t know what to feel, stark indifference, or embarrassment that the man you had been staring at didn’t swing that way.

“Stop it, Gilbert. You sound just like them.”

But as opposed as you were to the idea, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. In a world like this one, outside opinion became your reality. People loved to talk, so if you happened to be the subject, you better hope it was something good. When you thought of it that way, your spunk had all but reduced to nothing.

It was easier to just do what everybody else was doing. To tread lightly against the water without causing any ripples. It was the reason why you were so miserable, and yet, you were paralyzed.

You resorted to just watching him on the mezzanine, surrounded by his friends. By then, your fixation on him was no longer out of mere curiosity. He was attractive, and judging from how he looked back at you, that attraction was mutual. The reciprocation left much to be desired, like an invitation to start something. It drew you in like all things forbidden, though the only object was the peace of your old life.

And rather than speaking, you chose to die.

But he chose the latter.

“Demoralizing, isn’t it?”

A deep voice startled you, having come from behind. When you turned to it, you came face to face with Ivan. He was even more striking up close, and you weren’t prepared for what felt like worlds colliding.

“Excuse me?” Your brows came together.

“This is all theatre,” Ivan replied, lowering his head to you. “Everything you do and say is watched.”

“Is that so?” Interest laced your tone, fascinated by the eccentric talking point. This was your first time meeting him, and yet, he didn’t bother with niceties.“Do you think we’re being watched right now?”

“Of course.” He held out a gloved hand, palm facing up. He was forward, but only at your permission. Nothing he did was intrusive, as if he observed you for all your limits and lingered on them until you gave him your consent to go further. For that, the way he carried himself was so mysterious, but also deeply alluring. “Let’s give them something to talk about.”

You slid your hand into his, diving into the fire that was his world — and much to your wonder, yours.

Ivan led you to the dance floor, and all the heads in the room turned, one by one. Some peered around to get a better look, even. It was the most unexpected development yet, the man they’d written off to be a social outcast, next to a young debutante with an established name. You two looked good together too, but neither of those reasons would account for the amount of attention you and Ivan would receive.

It started off innocent like any other couple on the floor. A graceful waltz straight out of a fairytale.

Your palms came together, and with his hand on your waist, he guided you effortlessly amongst the other guests. You danced with him across the room, but you felt so light, it was like flying. Everything that had ever weighed you down was lifted, unburdened by everything that had been. Your dress flared out as he spun you in circles, but it wasn’t dizzying in the least.

In fact, your head had never been clearer.

For the world had all been drowned out.

The only thing you could see was him, and him, you. Even for just that moment, you were the center of each other’s universe. You were his sun, and he was yours. You two revolved around each other, basking in each other’s warmth that nourished a new life. And as the night went on, he never switched you with any other women. He didn’t have any intention to dance with anybody else, but neither did you. Slowly, but surely, it became undeniable what was developing between you two. He lifted you up and spun you in the air. Then, you took the risk to look down at him.

You and Ivan locked in a deep stare.

That was when you knew.

There was a budding passion between you and Ivan. With your mouth agape, you held onto his face to stabilize yourself. Breaths poured from your lips, and he welcomed them on instinct by opening his own. All this time, it wasn’t just the devastating beauty of his eyes that touched you, nor the coherence behind them. It was that they were looking at you.

The music stopped, and everything was sealed with a daring act. When he put you down, he did it so that your nose would slide against his. It was the first time that you made skin-to-skin contact with him, and it was so electric, you closed your eyes to savor it.

This had all been just a dance.

And yet, it felt like you two had just made love.

Needless to say, the blatant disregard for everyone else in the room was the most selfish, yet erotic experience of your life. When he parted ways with you, he didn’t say anything. Instead, he brought your hand to his mouth and kissed it. His lips lingered on you, and he lifted his gaze to you once more, almost as if to repeat everything that had already been said.

Then, he bowed, leaving you for the night.

Not that you even got any sleep after a high like that.

But your hopes were crushed as quickly as they were raised. You didn’t see him for a while after that, and he didn’t write to you either. A part of you hoped that he would find your address because he wanted to, but he never did. It left you incredibly disappointed, even confused after such a beautiful night together. Had everything you felt just been a fling, or worse, entirely made up in your mind? In your melancholy, you went to the city to get yourself some flowers.

But when you got inside the shop, you laid eyes on the reason for your woes. You could recognize that silver-blonde hair from anywhere, and subsequently, the person it belonged to. Even with his back turned to you in a crouch, you instantly knew who it was.

“Ivan.” You let out.

“(F/N),” The man turned to you, eyes widened.

His guard dropped at the sudden encounter. You just caught him in his private life, and while that wasn’t a problem on its own, he imagined his second time speaking to you would be when he was a little more prepared. But he couldn’t deny how delighted he was, even if he tried to mask it to an acceptable level. He stood up and dusted his pants, smile growing.

“It’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too. What are you doing?”

“Just running some errands.” Ivan replied, picking up a bucket of sunflowers from the ground.

“For yourself?” You asked with a curious tone.

“Yes, sunflowers are my favorite,” He laughed like he didn’t want to admit it, but he did anyway. He carried them to the cashier, but he promptly returned to get another one. “I like putting them in my windows.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” You smiled some. It was cute, even, but you refrained from saying it out loud. He was shy enough about it as is, so you thought of the next best thing. “I was buying some flowers for myself too.”

“Really?” He lit up.

“Yeah. Just some roses.” You hummed.

“Let me get them for you.” He offered, put off by the thought that you were doing the same thing as him.

“That’s very generous of you, but I couldn’t—”

“I insist.” Ivan lowered his eyes to you.

In his mind, people buying flowers for themselves meant they could’ve had better days. Maybe it was just an egotistical way of thinking, but he assumed it was the same way for you. If he could do the least of getting you a rose, he would sleep better at night.

That sincerity seeped through him and made it impossible for you to refuse. So you relented.

“Thank you, Ivan. This is really, really sweet of you.”

“You’re welcome.”

After he paid for them, he handed you a generous bouquet of red roses wrapped in delicate, colored paper. The gesture was so kind, it almost made up for the anguish you had felt recently. While you admired the floral arrangement, your mind returned to that night — you softened your gaze and peered up at him shyly. “You know, I’ve always wanted to say that I had a really good time with you that night.”

Ivan leaned back slightly, taken aback by your words. It was natural for you to say, but he was so used to being alone, the thought of being considered was so riveting that he had to ground himself after the fact.

“You’re a great dancer.” You complimented.

“So are you.”

“I was hoping that you’d write me too.” You lowered your gaze, missing the surprise that crossed his face.

“You were?” He blinked.

“Would that be inappropriate?” You glanced up at him quickly, feeling a frown start coming in.

“No, but that’s what I thought myself. I thought that it would make you uncomfortable.” His eyes widened as he spoke candidly. It was incredible how at ease he was around you, but your unapologetic honesty had him scrambling to meet you in the middle.

“Not at all. I was actually bothered that you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” He apologized. “I’ll write to you tonight, so it should come in a few days. Don’t worry.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting,” You beamed, turning to leave the shop. Excitement washed over you like all was right in the world again. But before you left, you had to ride out the high with one last comment. And it caught him even more off guard than the entire encounter itself. “You seem more like yourself today.”

“What do you mean?” He paused.

“Because you were unprepared.” You answered.

Ivan wrote to you right when he got home, inviting you to tea the following week. The café he waited in could pass for the lobby of a luxury hotel, but it was nothing you weren’t used to. Ceilings high enough for an eagle to soar in, and smooth marble pillars to hold them up. Artisan furniture, waiters in tuxedos, it was a favorite place to rendezvous in for all high society. He had a newspaper opened in front of him just as you arrived. Somehow, he always seemed surprised to see you, even if this meeting had been organized.

“How long will you be in Moscow for?” You gave your coffee a quick stir. He opted for tea instead, which he paired with a slice of honey cake. Turns out, he had quite the sweet tooth as it was too much for you.

“Three months. Then I’ll be stationed in Tashkent,” He answered. The speed of your stirring waned to a stop, and he noticed that your stare on him turned thoughtful. You seemed as though you were about to say something, but you refrained. “What about you? Are you going back to Saint Petersburg in Spring?”

“Yes, but I can stay longer if I wanted,” You brought your cup up to your lips. In truth, you wanted to ask how long he’d be in Kazakhstan for, but you worried that your interest in him would’ve seemed too much. Not that it wasn’t an open secret to you both at this point. “I don’t have anybody waiting for me there.”

That day, you two got to know each other beyond the ballroom, talking about your lives, families, and goals. It was like playing catch up after your night together, and it was weirdly grounding. He wasn’t a mysterious Prince Charming who swept you off your feet anymore, but something even better. He was real, every last bit of his sensitive character and wit.

“Do you not want to be married?” He asked.

“Not to the wrong person. It’s the one thing I have to do right, so I don’t want it to be the regret of my life.”

“I understand. Finding the right person is easier said than done — people can like you, but it’s not love.”

“I’m listening,” You hummed.

“That’s what makes it so valuable,” Ivan continued. Something glinted in his eyes like he had just come alive, as if he’d been waiting to say this for a while. “Because when you have it, you’ll have everything.”

You rested your face on the palm of your hand, staring at him across the table with intrigue.

“That person will see you for everything that you are and accept you for things you can’t accept yourself. Then, you become whole because of it,” He briefly broke his eye contact as he picked up his tea, but remade it as he said this. “Letting them love you is how you acknowledge that and forgive yourself.”

“That was really good, Ivan.” You muttered, frowning. He was so eloquent, his words untangled some part of yourself you didn’t know was tangled. Now that you thought about it, he’d always had this effect on you. The things he’d say, the way he received you. The world just made sense when you were with him.

He was so intelligent and sensitive, it drew you in like a moth to a flame. But it also put everything into perspective. He was a person everyone decided to ostracize, and you were so close to being just like the rest. You almost didn’t deserve him because of it, but you could forgive yourself if you did one simple thing.

Not letting him slip away.

“You think so?”

“Yes, I understood that perfectly. I couldn’t have said it better myself,” You nodded, watching him light up at being so well-received. It was too bad what you’d add to this conversation wasn’t half as deep, but you liked a good laugh. “But hey, can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“It’s about you, though.”

“How can you tell me a secret about me?”

“Well, it involves you, but it’s not necessarily true,” Your smile at him was more coy than he would’ve liked, so what was it about him that was so amusing? “It’s what everyone has been saying about you.”

“And?” He raised a brow.

“Everybody thinks you’re gay.”

His eyes widened until the whites of them were practically glaring, but he didn’t appear disgusted in the least. He couldn’t recall doing anything that could give anybody that impression, unless he did.

“Why?” He shook his head, positively dumbfounded.

“Maybe it was because you seemed too reserved.”

“Well, you didn’t believe that, did you?”

“Of course not!”

“I’m glad, but what am I supposed to do with that information? I can’t exactly prove to them what I am.” Ivan smiled weirdly, and he kept his composure rather calm. Most people would’ve recoiled or panicked at the thought of being regarded as such.

But it was so in-character for him to not mind.

“Well, of course you can,” You laughed, your smile softening at this. Turns out, your point wasn’t so much to tease him as it was to flirt with him, and he walked right into it. “Just spend more time with me.”

His cheeks turned rosy as his heart sped up for a brief moment. And against all odds, he didn’t feel the urge to shy away from you. It spoke volumes for who he was, solitary and avoidant, even if the only thing he ever wanted was someone to see him. It was a paradoxical way to live, though life was full of them.

But something about you made him unafraid to chase you, even if it was at a calm, walking pace.

A few days later, you found yourself strolling beside him next to a frozen lake. Ivan had his arms folded behind his back while he indulged you in another pleasant conversation. He had so much to say, but he made every moment worth your while. It seemed as though he just needed someone to listen to him.

And you were more than happy to be that someone.

“My mother used to call me Sasha,” He told you.

“Oh?” It was a beautiful name, but the only thing that crossed your mind was how well it suited him.

“Defender of mankind,” He gave you his gloved hand to take as you came across uneven terrain. But even after it passed, you never let go, and he didn’t mind it one bit. “She would remind me of that every time I got bullied as a child. She said they only did nasty things to me because they were jealous of me.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t want to say.” He chuckled sheepishly.

“Children can be cruel sometimes.” You nodded.

“I don’t think children are that aware of themselves, but I suppose it was because I was different.”

“Why would you say that?”

“There must be a reason why they did what they did.”

“People don’t need a reason to be the way they are. They just don’t know how to be anything else,” You disagreed, feeling his stare on you as you gazed to the side. “Which is a shame because I never would’ve spoken to you if you hadn’t spoken to me first.”

“Oh?”

“I never would’ve met you if you didn’t take the risk,” You smiled back at him. “So don’t ever change, Ivan.”

All of this came so naturally to you, but your words meant more to him than you would ever know. Nobody had ever said that to him. To never change. His whole life, he thought he had to be someone else, but it was really the world that wasn’t right for him. You liked him for who he was, so for the first time in a while, he could breathe. And he didn’t hold back.

As the months went by, you started spending every waking moment with him. Winter wasn’t as cold and bleak as it used to be, having found a warmth in your close friendship with him. You would even go horse riding with him in the vast countryside. As he chased you through the serene, white landscape, the hooves of your horses pounded rhythmically against the ice.

You turned back to watch him riding steadily behind. Ivan gave Russia a beauty you never knew it had, and it reflected on him inside and out. His kindness knew no bounds, even for those who could never repay him. He would play with children on the streets, then crouch down to give them candy. And above all else, he loved you exactly the way you needed him to.

You were at his home, sitting across him on the ledge of a window. Just like he said, he had sunflowers at almost every one, giving the golden light that poured in a new meaning. But you made everything look so much more vibrant, giving his place a new life just by being here. He’d had people over before, but it was the first time that he didn’t feel lonely at home.

“How do you like your caviar?” He had a slice of bread in one hand and a knife in the other.

“Just make it how you usually would.”

“Alright,” Ivan spread a thick layer of butter over it before scooping some caviar and plopping it on top. Then, he handed it to you, which you ate in slow, experimental chews. He watched you intently for a reaction, and it was like nothing he expected.

“I don’t actually like caviar, but I just wanted to try it the way you do,” You admitted, finishing the slice of bread as you spoke. The man made a face as if to say come again, but you had already moved on to the next best thing. “Oh, that reminds me. What did you think of the tea cakes I got for you the other day?”

“I ate it all, actually.” He murmured under his breath.

“What?” You asked, not hearing what he said.

“I ate it all.” He repeated louder this time.

“But that was only a few days ago,” You said without thinking, surprised that he managed to finish the box in such a short period. He glanced to the side with his lips pursed, embarrassed that you found out, but then again, he never could lie to you. “But no matter. I’m glad you liked them since I made them myself.”

“You did?” Ivan glanced back to you, and when he saw how proudly you grinned at him, his shame had all but diffused into wonder. “They were really good, (F/N). I didn’t know you could bake so well.”

You didn’t know what came over you, but his fixation on sweets was so endearing, you did something so out of the blue that even you were surprised by your lack of inhibition. You leaned forward and lifted his blouse, revealing his belly and happy trail. He was slightly pudgy, and it was made worse by him leaning over. But the mindless decision on your part ended up eliciting a bigger response than you anticipated.

“Why did you do that?” His eyes flew open as he pulled his blouse down to hide his stomach.

“I don’t know. I wanted to see what you looked like,” You recoiled a little, “But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

“Well, don’t do it again,” Ivan pinched your cheek, his expression slightly displeased. But somehow, he was a little glad that you felt this comfortable with him. What more was that you didn’t seem put off by what you saw, apparent in the expectant look you gave him. “You don’t find it unattractive that I’m fat?”

“What makes you think you’re fat?” You frowned.

“Well, there’s this,” He murmured.

“This is nothing, Ivan. Besides, I think it looks good on you,” You watched him furrow his brows for a skeptical look, which only seemed to encourage you. “But if we’re really talking, you could do your business in front of me and I would still like you.”

“No way,” He chuckled deeply.

“I’ll even follow you into the bathroom because you always take too long,” You said, smile growing.

“Okay, okay,” Ivan muttered defeatedly, not wanting to hear any more about his bathroom habits and your apparent willingness to watch them all unfold. At this point, his face had darkened past what he thought to be humanly possible. Did you like him that much? “Now if I said the same thing, you wouldn’t like it.”

“That’s because you’re a man,” You got off the ledge.

“Oh?” He wore an amused expression as he trailed behind you like a giant shadow. Despite being such a large person, he walked so quietly it was as though he wasn’t walking at all. It was only until you closed the door on him that you even realized he was there.

“I need to go to the bathroom! Don’t follow me.” You exclaimed, frankly dumbfounded that he got this far.

“Is that why you’ve been talking about me like that?”The door shut in his face, so he wandered off to wait for you. When you came out of the bathroom, he’d been sitting on a chair down the hallway. Once you were looming over him, he stood up to acknowledge you properly. “Let me show you to your room.”

You didn’t say anything, staying quiet as he took your hand and lead you to the bedroom he had prepared for you. It was so considerate of him, but you weren’t satisfied with his response. Were you being entitled, or did everything just fall flat like it meant nothing? You tried to hide it as best as you could, not wanting to ruin such a tender moment between you two.

But he was too observant to miss it.

“You don’t look happy,” Ivan softened his gaze as he put his hands on your waist, holding you steady. Little did he know, that only made your heart heavier. How could he treat you so lovingly, yet deny it so? Was he just being polite, where everything he ever did was out of friendship and nothing more?

“I don’t know why, but I thought we’d share.”

You couldn’t even look at him as you said it, having already decided his feelings for you were platonic.

Incredibly deep, but still, not deep enough.

“I’m sorry,” You muttered, turning to leave the room, feeling as though you just ruined everything. Before you could, Ivan reached out and grabbed your hand, stopping you from taking another step. When you faced him, he had a deep frown and an intense look in his eyes like everything was about to bubble over.

To him, the question that had been on his mind was answered so unabashedly, even he couldn’t deny the implications anymore. You liked him so much, you hoped that he would take the initiative to let you in his bed. It was so forward, yet you communicated it in such a shy manner, you were endearing for it.

You wanted him, and not out of mindless passion.

Everyone else looked through him, but you looked at and into him. You met him where he needed you to, being so playful and open, yet so attentive and considerate. For that, he had nothing against letting you into his world, and he let himself go in every way he could let go because he trusted you to catch him.

Ivan took your face and leaned in with his lips.

But he was still careful, moving ever so slowly as he watched you for every subtle change to your body language and expression. You didn’t pull away in the slightest, staring back at him with an alluring look. Once his nose brushed against yours, you closed the gap with a long-awaited kiss. He responded with just as much urgency, having been granted permission to finally love you the way he was always intended to.

You hung off his neck as your mouths met again and again in soft pecks, but they eventually deepened into kisses that were so long, you couldn’t breathe.

It felt so good to finally have him. To surrender at the same time, giving in to the unspoken connection that had made it unbearable to be away from each other. For that, your patience for each other was rewarded with the most heartfelt intimacy yet. You and Ivan kept kissing, not caring for the taste of food in each other’s mouths. He was salty like the sea, but it was still him. Slowly, you were starting to like caviar.

You saw him off at the train station before he left for Tashkent. And he almost looked too good for you to let him go, but you had to. Ivan was dressed in his white cavalry uniform as he stood on the platform, cap in hand, and when you spotted him, you ran up to him as fast as you could. He stretched his arms to catch you just in time, lifting you over his head with absolutely no effort. Ivan had always been big and strong like a bear, but feeling it was something else.

You held onto his face and kissed him as hard as any woman would before their lover was sent off to the battlefield. He reciprocated with just as much urgent passion, moving his head fervently against yours. Your lips met again and again, eliciting soft and wet sounds. You ended the amorous exchange by sucking on his tongue, but it was hardly vulgar as it was playful. He laughed breathily and smiled up at you like a dream, intoxicated by your affection.

“You came to see me, mishka?” He spoke lowly.

“Of course I did,” You let out, kissing him again until you somehow got it through his head that you loved him, however dizzy it was. The second time round was even longer than the first, so it was a miracle how he was still standing. “Write to me everyday.”

“I promise,” He whispered, chest heaving.

You bit his neck as hard as you could without making him bleed, because kissing him a third time wasn’t enough. His face scrunched up from the pain, and while his body didn’t enjoy it, his heart was in the right place. It ached with satisfaction, but it couldn’t be explained by the physical. It came from a carnal instinct deep within, and what awakened inside him would stay with him throughout his entire posting.

“I miss you already, Sasha.” You whispered back.

“I’ll be back soon. I know nothing will happen to me because you’ll always be with me,” Ivan pressed his forehead to yours gingerly, closing his eyes as he spoke. It was the mindset of all soldiers, the feeling of invincibility simply because someone loved them. But how many would still perish, despite that fact? He carried this inside him like a stone; knowing his own mortality made him restless with longing.

In the months he spent away from you, you were all he could think about. As he sat around the campfire with his comrades, he let the dark of the night get to him. It was pitch black for miles around, so he stared into the flames, letting them burn his vision away just to get a semblance of what it felt like to be around you. Light, warm, and nourishing, a sign that he’d live to see another day. He knew he loved you, even if that love was playful, exciting, and even childlike.

For you, Ivan freed up so much space within himself that you would never feel trapped again. If the world was ever too small, it never was inside him, and in there, you slowly blossomed like a flower. He would then carry you inside him everywhere he went, so it was like having a piece of Spring even in the coldest blizzards. But the greatest one had yet to pass. What used to be so pure was burning into something so passionate, it rivaled that of his first dance with you.

Only this time, it wasn’t just physical attraction.

He wanted all of you, body and soul.

But somehow, that felt like a crime. You were his little bear, and he was your first for everything. Was it too soon to want you this way, or were you ready to give him everything? When he saw you again, it was easy to make a poor judgement. Your minds were tired but your hearts were not, and after the separation, there was nothing to inhibit your deep-seated restlessness for each other. While you sat over him, half-dressed in your underwear, you kissed him until his lips were bruised. But he didn’t mind the pain. Everything you could ever inflict on him translated to pure ecstasy.

“Can I make love to you?” He gazed expectantly up at you, breaking the already fervid silence.

“But this is my first time.” You flushed, caught off guard by how plainly he asked for it. But perhaps, this was what it was to have intimate relations with a man. You and Ivan were headed toward this outcome, which would surely unfold sooner or later.

“Do you trust me?” He held onto your fingertips delicately as if to give you the option to pull away.

He was doing the same thing he did the first time he met you, lingering on your boundaries until you gave him the permission to go further. As alluring as it had been, really doing it was far more intimidating than you thought. There would be no going back from this, and you weren’t sure if you were ready for it.

“Yes, but I’m scared.” You whispered in a hush.

“Of the pain?” He asked just as faintly.

“Of losing you.” You said even quieter.

“But you’ll always have me.” He smiled in the dark.

The next few minutes went by in a haze.

He carried you to his bed and laid you down as gently as he would laying someone down to rest. Then, he got on top of you. While you laid under him, he pulled his shirt over his head. After which, he slowly lowered back down to you, his silhouette becoming one with yours. His bare skin was flush against yours, the first of many sensations you would feel from his body.

Ivan was going to take you tonight, and you couldn’t bring yourself to process it. Some part of you wanted it to happen, another didn’t. Because as much as you loved being intimate with him, you loved everything more. The mindful conversations, even the mindless ones too. It was the purity of your interactions with him that made everything so perfect, but sex?

Having sex with Ivan scared you more than anything.

He was the only man you could ever give yourself to, and you trusted him more than anything, so why did you feel this way? Maybe it was still too early. Ivan hadn’t made himself clear enough to you, because deep inside, you still feared that he wouldn’t lay down his life for you. But if he was doing this with you, that had to be his intentions, wouldn’t it?

Or were you just being naïve?

Whatever it was, the one thing you knew was how much you didn’t want to hurt him. So you let him put his hands all over you, your breasts, your thighs, and everything in between. Ivan worshipped every inch of your body, caressing you until you were dripping wet and feening for him. Seeing the massive tent in his underwear didn’t help, as it forced you to cross your legs to hide how much you wanted him inside you.

“What’s wrong, mishka?” He breathed.

“I don’t know about this, Ivan.” You whispered, eyes turning misty. “What if this changes everything?”

“What do you mean?” He reached out to caress your cheek, gaze softening for a tender look. You were feverishly hot, your skin almost scalding to touch, and not for the right reasons. Something had you on the verge of tears, he just never imagined it would be him. That would end up being his greatest hamartia, and this night was only just the beginning. “Tell me.”

“Will I still be your little bear?”

“Always,” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, and for a brief moment, you relaxed. But when his hands went to your underwear, discomfort crossed your face again. However, he missed it, set on making love to you as a cathartic moment in the relationship.

You would be bound to him forever, and him, to you.

Only you had a very different idea of binding to him. He took your underwear off, and that was the trigger. The first tear rolled from your eyes, and as you laid naked under him, you hid yourself behind your arms. In the end, no matter how much you thought you trusted him, you didn’t want him to see you like this.

And Ivan was devastated.

Not for being rejected, but for making you cry.

The shame in his eyes was as if he just killed a man, and his brows came together until it looked like he was in physical pain. Not only did he make you feel uncomfortable, he made you feel taken advantage of. He shouldn’t have tried convincing you the first time you said it, and now that he had, did you even see him the same anymore? Ivan highly doubted it.

“I’m sorry,” He muttered, climbing off you.

He stood next to the bed with his back turned to you as he gathered himself. He couldn’t bring himself to face you no matter what he told himself. The guilt he felt was so paralyzing, he couldn’t even move.

“Let’s stop this.”

You slept beside him all night, hoping that what just happened between you both could be a minor bump in the relationship. In the morning, you could work it out, and you trusted that he would come through for your sake. But when the sun rose and you came to, he had all but disappeared. You sat up and rubbed the haze from your eyes, scanning the room for him.

Then, you searched the rest of the house, wandering the empty halls half-dressed. He was nowhere to be found, and at the realization that you had just been abandoned, an emptiness welled in your chest.

Why did he go?

There wasn’t a trace of him except for a letter you found on his desk. When you read it, a whirlwind of emotions hit you. Confusion, sadness, then anger. Ivan apologized for what he’d done, then said that he would return to Tashkent to give you some space.

You hadn’t finished the entire message before you scrunched it up on reflex, throwing it to a random spot in the room. All of his intellectualizing meant nothing to you, because the only thing you took away from this was that he left. He just upped and left.

He never gave you the chance to forgive him, running off before he could gather the nerve to face you. If it weren’t for all that you had done with him last night, the kissing, the touching, and your nudity, you would feel pity for him. But he took something from you.

And rather than staying to make up for it, he just left. His stupidity just shattered your dignity as a woman, but not to the point it wasn’t salvageable. So you got dressed in the fastest, sloppiest way possible, hoping to somehow catch him before he fled Moscow.

You boarded the first train you saw, and you stormed through the carriages looking like Hell. There was only an astronomical chance that you would see him, and yet, you didn’t stop, pacing down the aisle until you would lay eyes on the reason for your woes.

Fate was kind to you that day, because you did end up finding him. When you saw Ivan sitting at one of the booths, you marched up to him, nostrils flaring. He was in a heavy brown coat, and atop his head was his gray ushanka. As he stared lazily into the white, snow-drenched landscape outside, wallowing in self pity, he failed to notice you until you were standing right over him. When he sensed you in his peripheral, he turned to you, and his eyes slowly widened.

What were you doing here?

Ivan was surprised to see you on his train departing Moscow, but even more by you looking for him after everything that happened. He was that out of touch with you, which only worsened your anger. Needless to say, he was overjoyed to see you, even if he never had a chance to relish it. Because what happened in the next second would shatter his train of thought.

Utterly and completely.

You slapped him across the face, and so hard that his hat fell off. Gasps went around the carriage as his head turned in direction of the slap. His eyes went as wide as he could get them, and he didn’t move out of shock. His face stayed angled to the side as he tried to process what you just did. Did you just slap him?

From the burning sting on his cheek, it was apparent that you did. A red hand mark slowly formed on his skin, but no matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t bring himself to anger. Now that he thought about it, he would still adore you with your hands around his neck. In his mind, anything you did to him was out of a fit of passion. And he wasn’t so far off the mark.

When he turned back to you, mouth agape like he was about to go off, your face had gone as white as a ghost. You were appalled by what you just did, and only now did you come to terms with it, which was after the fact. After you hit him. He reached out to you on instinct, but you darted out of there without a word. Ivan shot up on reflex and chased after you.

You raced down the stairs of the train to get back to the platform, feeling the snow crunch under your feet as you ran. Not that you even had a place in mind. You just had to get as far away as possible, fleeing the horror that was something done in the heat of the moment. You just hit Ivan. You couldn’t imagine how furious he was, but that only went to show how out of touch you were with him too.

He shot his arm out and grabbed your hand, yanking you into his chest. Then, he covered your entire body with his, holding you in such an embrace that would stop any and all movement on your end. Like a wild bear, he had you completely subdued in his grasp.

“How could you?” You squeezed him as hard as you could. “You were just gonna leave without telling me?

“I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.” Ivan sighed.

“Why would I not want to see you?” You exclaimed, pulling back to put your scorching gaze on him as you fought back angry tears. He stood over you in silence, expression wrought with shame as you tore him to shreds. There was nothing he could say to earn your forgiveness, because there was nothing that could justify what he did. “After everything that happened, that was what you thought of me?”

He had done this out of his own cowardice, and you suffered the brunt of the consequences.

“You made me feel so cheap!” You cried, slamming your fists against his chest. Not that he even budged when he was that much stronger than you, so you shoved him instead. And he let you, coming back every time to wipe away your tears. “But you were too busy feeling sorry for yourself to even know that.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” He winced, holding your face in his hands as he kissed you over and over.

But even that wasn’t enough.

“If we fight, stay with me. If I run, chase after me. Don’t just sit back and let it happen,” You wiped your tears as they kept coming, but you couldn’t stop the hurt that came pouring from your mouth. The dam had broken, and with the most heart-wrenching look on your face, you sobbed, “Do you even love me?”

He went beet red, and his eyes burned with all the hatred he harbored for himself. It was his ugliest look yet, coming face-to-face with just how worthless he made you feel. It was only a fraction of what he felt himself, but knowing this was all his doing made him cave like never before. He pulled you into a hug so tight, it was as though he was clinging to life itself.

“I love you more than anything,” He uttered shakily into your hair. “I love you more than life itself. You are the reason I get up in the morning everyday. Without you, living would feel the same to me as being dead.”

“Then prove it. Don’t let me doubt you for a second, or else I’ll keep living in my head.” You squeezed him.

Ivan stayed in Moscow that night. And you were back in his bedroom, continuing what was left off from yesterday. Only this time, there was a sense of clarity and serenity between you both that was comparable to reaching nirvana. All that could be said had been spoken, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“You’re so clumsy, Ivan.” You spoke gently over him, eyes still red from all the crying. While you sat on his lap, he rubbed his face on your bosom. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, and he had his strong arms coiled around you with no intention of letting you go. “Why is it when we’re dancing, you’re so graceful, but with everything else, you’re so clueless?”

“That’s because it’s all I know,” He kept his eyes shut as brushed his lips delicately across your skin.

“Then treat me like how you would dance with me.” You spoke with so much conviction, it wouldn’t have sounded as suggestive as it was really meant to be.

Ivan opened his eyes as his heart began to pound in his chest. If he didn’t know any better, he wouldn’t have understood what you meant. But he did, and always had since the day he met you. The unspoken passion between you both didn’t go unnoticed by him, and this was his chance to finally prove it to you.

You wanted him to take you.

And he wasn’t about to refuse you.

From now on, everything he would say to you would be spoken through his body as if you were dancing with him. His bedroom was now the ballroom, only there would be nobody watching you two.

He got off the bed, and without breaking eye contact, he began to strip, starting with his shirt.

You watched in a daze, admiring his body for all that it was. He was so big and strong, you could only imagine his size down there. And you were right for your concerns. When he undid his pants and pulled them down with his boxers, his dick bounced out. Ivan was still so massive at half-mast, he could put a horse to shame. But you weren’t intimidated at all.

If this was what it was to love him, you would soon rather split yourself in half than refuse to take him.

He laid down flat on the bed, the action causing his cock to rock to and fro. Rather than coming onto you, he let you come to him on your own will. You got on top of him so that his erection would be brushing against your stomach. Then, you lifted your shirt and pinned it with your chin, showing him your breasts with a coy smile. He chuckled lowly as his cock twitched, more than content to let you please him.

You were being so obedient, but you would snap him out of his indulgent stupor soon. You gave his dick a hard slap, and he let out a pained moan as it rocked from side to side like a buoy. Satisfied, you started pumping your hand up and down the length of it as a reward. His face contorted with pleasure, only it was so good, it looked like it hurt just as much as before.

“Oh… Oh…” He shut his eyes as you went even faster, writhing in bliss and agony. He began panting rapidly as he reached a hot and hard orgasm, but before he came, you stopped, leaving him on the edge of an explosive climax. He went red in the face from embarrassment as he recovered. “… Why did you…?”

“Because…” You trailed off as you adjusted yourself on top of him, spreading your legs and showing him your womanhood cutely. It was so erotic, Ivan had a visceral reaction. His eyes went round as his heart ached to penetrate you right then and there, but he somehow refrained. “I wanted you to do it inside me.”

He never backpedaled so fast.

A switch was flipped, excited by what you’d let him do to you, and he dove into the place between your legs. Ivan would eat you out until you lost your mind, flicking his tongue furiously against your clit, swirling circles on it, then tongue-fucking you until you came into his mouth. His hunger for you was more like starvation, picking you up by your thighs and lifting you over his head so you would have nowhere to go.

Nowhere but down to his mouth.

“Ivan, please-- ” You moaned, grabbing his head to stabilize yourself as he held you on his shoulders.

“Yes, mishka?” He dragged his tongue up and down your folds, then swirled it over your sensitive clit.

“--I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but that’s enough. You’re driving me crazy, ah--” You cried.

Ivan was so good at oral, he had your legs shaking by then, but he still wasn’t stopping. This was only the appetizer, the first bit of foreplay he would give you before getting to the main course. And he made that apparent by laying you back down on the bed.

“Then I’ll keep going until you understand.”

Without breaking eye contact, he stuck two fingers into his mouth. His gaze was hotter on you than you could stomach, but you were such a mess, there was nothing you could do except let him take charge. After coating them with saliva, he inserted them into your entrance, sliding deeper into you than you were ready for. Your eyes flew open as he started fingering and hooking you, breath hitching to his thrusts.

“How does that feel?” He breathed.

You turned feverishly hot as he pleased you, and with your head thrown back, you thought to yourself how much more it would be to take him. If this was just his fingers, what about his —? Ivan didn’t give you a chance to imagine it because he was already on top of you in a missionary position. Placing your legs on either side of his body, he splayed you wide open.

Then, he aligned himself and penetrated you.

Ivan made a face of pain before he leaned down to kiss you. After which, he whispered sweet nothings into your ear, knowing how much he was for you. Tears ran down your cheeks as he rocked back and forth. It hurt so much, you couldn’t even make a noise to express it. But he was patient. He didn’t go any further than you’d let him, listening to your body.

“Slowly, slowly,” He whispered over you assuringly. As he moved his pelvis back and forth, he penetrated you to the same depth every time, but eventually, he got deeper as you accepted him. By then, most of the pain had subsided. He was just so big, the walls of your womanhood ached as he moved inside you. That ache then spread to your heart and mind.

But it ached so good, you couldn’t stop trembling.

You didn’t know what it was that made you tear up in pleasure. That it was Ivan who was inside you, or that he was so thick, he was filling you up until there was nothing left to fill. While his cock rubbed against your insides, it stretched you until your stomach bulged. And the sight was something else to behold, like you were trying to keep down all of his love in your body.

Being so much smaller than him, you almost couldn’t take him. But you would soon rather split yourself in half than refuse to try. And you made that apparent with the way you begged him wantonly, like you would die if he didn’t get to where you wanted him.

“Deeper, Ivan. Deeper,” You let out, tears falling from your hazy eyes as he rocked you back and forth.

You had completely lost control of yourself, but so would he. You wanted him so bad you were crying for him, and Ivan thought it was so cute, it drove him crazy. With a low, throaty moan, Ivan sunk himself all the way in, and without giving you any time to adjust, he started pounding you into the bed as hard as he could. The bed squeaked even faster and faster.

He was slapping his pelvis into you at a furious pace, and you were taking every inch of his massive cock every time. He even let out a few breathy utterances, praising you for how good you were being. He fucked you like this for a few more minutes, and when it wasn’t enough, he folded you in half like a pretzel to get even deeper. This was the position he stayed in until his first orgasm, loving how much he opened you up.

He splayed you apart until he was pushing both your knees into the mattress. You kept your eyes closed and head tilted away out of embarrassment, but he was infatuated with your shyness. After a few more strong thrusts, he snapped, eyes closed in pure bliss. Ivan smiled floatily as he came, shooting strong jets of cum into your core. While he ejaculated inside you, he stayed all the way in to let you feel his dick pulse.

And the satisfaction he felt made his mind go blank.

The only thing he knew was to go back to moving so he could ride out his orgasm. With his mouth agape, he rolled his hips into you in slow, fluid movements, pumping you full with his cum. He breathed heavily over you like a dog, brows twitching up and down in pleasure. When he finally finished, he laughed weakly as he basked in the aftermath of all the love-making.

Cumming inside you didn’t just feel like heaven.

Knowing the consequences and still doing it made it so hot, he couldn’t get off his high. It excited him to think what he was doing to you, something intimate but oh-so perverted. The fact that you let him do it only turned him on even more. So for the rest of the night, he couldn’t resist doing it again and again.

You and Ivan had sex for hours, rolling around the bed with your bodies connected like snakes in heat.

You’ve lost count of how many times you orgasmed, but he just couldn’t get enough. You never imagined how much of a sex fiend Ivan was, but turns out, you did all the right things to bring out this side of him. When you’d crawl away from him, he would pull you back to him in one quick movement. And when you tried stumbling to the bathroom, he yanked you back to keep fucking you. Ivan would then bend you over the desk and pound you doggy-style until he came.

When he pulled out, cum oozed from your hole.

You got so mad at him after that, you slapped him, but he couldn’t be affected by it anymore. He even liked it, because being hit by you felt no different to him than being kissed. So he simply turned back at you, chest still heaving from all the sex, and leaned in to kiss you. In that short moment before he put his mouth on yours, you saw that his nose was bleeding.

Your eyes widened with guilt, but it went away as he moved his lips fervently against yours. You hung off his neck as you kissed through his blood, tasting the iron that dripped into your mouth. Then, you were back to taking him like nothing happened. He would hold you against the wall standing, then roll his pelvis furiously into you. With the wall behind you, you had nowhere to go and was forced to take him. With his forehead flush against yours, he kept you in a dazed stare as he bounced you up and down on his cock.

His nose kept bleeding as he thrusted furiously into you, making for an erotic sight. Ivan just adored you so much, he wanted you even when you raised a hand at him. But he thought he deserved it. As he fanned his hot, labored breath over your mouth, he reached another hot orgasm, coming inside your womb. Your brows twitched in ecstasy as he kept rolling his hips, stimulating your clit from the inside, now dripping with cum. Either way, as push comes to shove, you would be making it up to him until morning.

When the sun came up, you and Ivan basked in the afterglow of your intense lovemaking. The soft sheets beneath you were damp from all kinds of body fluids, and he had dried blood over his mouth. You cleaned it carefully with a cloth dipped in some water, and after that, you two kissed, not minding each other’s morning’s breath. He couldn’t be any more satisfied with the developments, knowing you were finally his. He was now whole, having found his other half to forgive all that he lacked, and he would do the same.

“What do you want to do today?” You asked him as you lay on his chest, eyes still shut from exhaustion.

“I don’t know, I just want to lay in bed with you.”

“But that’s not productive.” You mumbled.

“Laying in bed with you is the most productive thing I could ever think of doing,” Ivan smiled tiredly under you, getting you to open your eyes to peer up at him in a shy look. “You are the activity, mishka.”

One week later, you were in a carriage on the way to a ball with him. And for the first time in a long time, you were excited to go. Ivan made balls enchanted again, simply because you would be dancing with him and nobody else. But you also knew his presence alone had that same effect. There were really people out there like him, and that made the world smaller — and righter — than you’ve always known it to be.

“You have to meet my cousin, Ivan. He’ll love you.”

“Of course,” He chuckled, having already heard of Gilbert and the role he played in introducing him to you, however incorrectly he had done it. It wasn’t in his nature to blame him, and he was more eager than anything to befriend your closest family member.

“Just don’t make him feel stupid, he hates that.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Just something about you, everything you do feels intelligent,” You flickered your eyes over him as he sat across you quietly. Ivan had always been so calm and mature, but still able to humor your playfulness in private. It was one of your favorite parts about him. You saw sides of him that nobody else would, and it made up the world you had with him. “He’s already mad at me for ditching him to go with you today.”

“I understand,” He nodded.

You sat across each other in a comfortable silence, but he kept staring at you. His gaze on you was so tender, but also dazed and absent like he was thinking of something else entirely to this moment.

“What?” You frowned, slightly put off by the intensity of his scrutiny, when really, you were more flustered than anything. It looked like he had something salacious on his mind, but this was Ivan you were talking about. Either way, you couldn’t stop yourself from going, “Want me to slap some sense into you?”

It had been a joke to diffuse the tension, but it only seemed to encourage the sincerity of his feelings.

“I want to be your husband.” He said it with such a serious tone of voice, you couldn’t even brush it off.

Your face contorted with shock, but you were slowly overwhelmed with so much emotion that you turned beet red. You were on the verge of tears, and not just from happiness. You were relieved to hear that Ivan was ready to lay his life down for you, as much as you trusted that he would. But did he really have to say that right before meeting so many people?

You had changed him so much with your love, giving him so much confidence that you could hardly deal with your own creation. But if you asked him, Ivan was just being as passionate as you told him to be. To treat you like he was dancing with you. So he did what he wanted to, even if it was more bold and brazen than how anyone else would’ve gone about it. How he would’ve gone about it if he hadn’t met you.

By the end of the month, he proposed to you.

With a diamond-encrusted ring on your finger, you’d write to him as he served in Tashkent for one last time. Because once he’d return, you two would marry and start a new life together. A few years would pass before there would be the three of you. Ivan would carry a small child in his arms while he walked the streets of Moscow with you, only the first of many he would have with you as a product of your love.

Spring had only just begun, and Winter?

It would never be cold again.

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