#in the book. and they do it in such a dry and dull way that you just know it hasn’t even crossed their mind that someone might be reading

[fingertipsmp3]

No one:

Person writing an introduction for a well-known novel: I am going to spoil the vital plot points and twists of this book for anyone who has not read it

[cregansdingdong]

ʀᴇꜱᴛʟᴇꜱꜱ.

Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: NSFW, p-in-v penetration, swearing, dirty talk, sofa sex, quickie that became a longie, making-out, dry humping, Jace is desperate and he needs to take his frustrations out somehow, theres a brief pussy slap bc it felt right, cream-pie at the end, fully clothed raw dogging; They’re betrothed and this takes place at the start of the DoD, I didn’t make any other specifications cause they were too busy fucking. This is very heavily inspired by his scene in the season finale :3

Hot stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

He’d been pacing in his chambers for the better part of an hour with only his thoughts as company. Jacaerys felt useless, to say the least. Useless, needlessly coddled, suffocating between the walls of Dragonstone. He wanted to be of help to his Queen, to fight for the realm on dragonback against the Greens as was his destiny. His calling. Instead, he was made to spectate at council meetings and wait endlessly for a moment that would never come, it seemed. The ‘what ifs’ kept him spiraling, uncomfortable in his own mind, and he found his feet moving before he could consider a destination. He knew where to go. It was too easy not to. And she wouldn’t mind. His hesitance sent a bit of doubt down to his stomach on whether or not he really wanted to bother her, but she would’ve figured out his sour mood anyway. It was better to face up to himself than keep it locked away inside. The hastening of his footsteps echoed off the spacious corridors, and as if she had sensed he was on his way to her, the doors to her chambers were left ajar—just enough for him to see her peaceful face trained down on her book.

His knuckles gently tapped against the threshold, announcing his presence as he entered. His betrothed glances up, looking twice as she realizes who her visitor is. “Good morrow.” She hummed, legs tucked up and under her comfortably on the divan. His pretty brown eyes took in her room, a place he found himself in considerably often. Depending on the circumstances, obviously. And the hour. Everything was kept neat and tidied, but he could still see the traces of her, where she’d made a sort of home for herself. Books and tomes stacked three or four each on various surfaces, the tea she’d left nearly untouched on the nightstand. He loved it. “Good morrow.” Jace responded, gently shutting the door behind him, head tilted back against it for a moment, unable to hide the frustration that had grown in his own chambers. He said nothing. Unsurprisingly, the words caught in his throat on the way out.

She pats the spot beside her on the divan, the book not yet closed, but her attention had shifted from the pages to his furrowed brows. He obeys, crossing the room to sit by her without second thought. His mind had quieted, at least. Their shoulders brush together lightly as he finally manages to say something else. “What are you reading?” She could tell already that something was off with him, but still indulges in his question, turning it over to show him the cover. Something vaguely historic, he catches, but he was too distracted by her soft hands clutching the book to see much else. “I figured I’d better read a bit more to catch up with the talk of war. This one isn’t entirely as dull as I thought it was going to be, thankfully.” With that, she closes it shut, putting it down on the stand beside the divan, shifting her body just enough to face him. “How are you faring, Jace?”

“I’m well enough.” He muttered, leaning back slightly. It was a lie and she saw right through him without much else. “I just…my mother is worried. She’s trying to hide it behind orders but it's catching up to us now. All this.” He was gesturing to the war, of course, fingers tapping in his lap anxiously. “And I can’t help her. She won’t let me help. I don’t know what to do. I’d much rather be out there, making a real difference to tip the scales, and instead I’m stuck here at Dragonstone doing nothing but waiting.” His betrothed nodded along as she listened, digesting his admittance before considering her own words. “You’re restless, dragon.” There was a truth to it, despite the statement mostly being a gentle tease. The corners of his lips lift just a little at the nickname. “I can’t help it. I feel antsy knowing I have the capabilities to do something, and I’m not allowed to.”

“We’re still in the beginning of this war—and you’re the heir, Jace. Even if there was a battle taking place just outside of Dragonstone, you and the Queen must stay here.” He’d heard that a thousand times before from his mother and the members of her small council, and a thousand times he felt undignified—but hearing it from the lips of his bride-to-be, there was no malice or taunt or scold behind her tone. She was reminding him of a painful candor. His safety mattered. “I feel powerless.” He admits, frustration accompanying the embarrassment that came with the insecurity. “I feel like a little boy begging to add his opinion during council meetings. They respect me because I’m the Prince of Dragonstone, her son, not because I’m good at my responsibilities. What good am I in this war if I can’t help my mother get her throne back?” The last few words exited his mouth with bite, self-loathing and irritation cutting him like a double-edge sword.

“You’re wrong about that.” She reaches out to take his arm, her hand wrapping around his bicep as she intertwines their fingers with the other. “Your living and breathing is the strongest power of all. You’re strengthening your mother’s claim by doing just that. I know you want to fight, to do something that matters. But true power is not just grandiose displays of strength or victories in battle, it's also purpose. The meanings behind our choices. People are raising the Queen’s banners—and those are your banners too. They want to fight for you as much as they do for her, because the two of you are the rightful heirs to the throne. The Greens can try as they wish to Usurp what belongs to the Queen, but their actions are unjustified. King Viserys made his choice and he stuck to it until his passing. That is power.”

“All this book reading is making you wiser than me.” He grumbled, although there wasn’t any malice behind it. “I’d still rather be swinging a sword at some idiot knight instead of sitting within these walls looking pretty—but I understand that you’re right.” He concedes, a small smile gracing his handsome face. She chuckles at that. “I’m sure you’d be pretty no matter what, even muddied and bloodied on the battlefield.” She sighs though, glancing out at the daylight swarming into the room through the window, hand still nestled in his. The gentle touch sent goosebumps up his neck, tightening his trousers with every second her warmth continued to seep into his leather doublet. “The meeting is likely starting soon.” Her voice interrupts his thoughts of nipping at the supple flesh at her neck.

Jace groaned aloud, head dropping back against the divan in pure annoyance, good mood spoiled at the reminder. “I’d honestly rather get swallowed by dragonfire than sit in that room for the next three hours, listening to those old fools drabble on about who knows what.” He turns his body—not unlike a roll—to shield his face on her shoulder, unwilling to part from her. “I want to stay here with you, alone and in peace as we were.” She snorts lightly as he inhales deeply, arm snaking around her waist in want. “The Queen will be expecting us, my prince.” She looks down at his dark curls, twirling one around her finger. His breeches certainly tighten now. “...My interests are elsewhere.” He murmurs, annoyed at the thought of being pulled away, face inching closer to her neck until his lips press against her smooth skin. “Jace.” She warned, although there wasn’t as much resistance in her tone as he’d expected, and a quiet sigh flows past her lips. “We can’t be late. That’s disrespectful to the council members.”

“The denial of devouring you because of those ancient rats only serves to make me want to go even less.” He shifts in place, head still dipped by her jugular, hands bracing the back of the divan with newfound purpose, trapping her between the corner of it and his own scalding body. She gasps as his teeth sink into her skin, earning a low sound of pleasure from his throat. “We can be quick if the meeting matters to you that much.” He mutters against her, a slight tease as he nips at her harder this time, his nose nudged into her jaw. “I don’t need to wait until nightfall to make you see the stars, my Lady.” Her remaining restraint crumbles at that, hands coming to undo the lacings of his breeches. “..Fine. But you can’t touch my hair.” He seemed like he wanted to protest at the idea of limited touching, but that gleam in her eye meant she was serious, and it was likely they’d miss the meeting as a whole trying to figure out how to braid her hair that way again. “Okay. Deal.”

His mouth returns to her throat, biting and sucking greedily with reverence, his hands finding purchase at her hips to start bunching her skirts up. “Jace..” She exhales, shuddering at the way he was marking her skin—he wasn’t leaving any stones unturned, and they were going to show. Her fingers plucked at the lacings with success, tugging him closer to her now by the waistline of his breeches. His fists clench around the fabric of her gown, a deep grunt echoing from his chest as his clothed cock pressed into her plush inner thigh. “Gods—I need more.” Jace retracts himself from her neck, pulling her body down the divan, just enough to lay her flat on her back. She wraps her thighs around his hips, a strangled moan failing to come out as he kisses her, pushing himself against her core. He rolled his hips down with a fury, nothing deliberate about it—just to feel something, to get out the pent up desperation he’d felt for weeks since his return.

His tongue explores her mouth with an eagerness that made them both flush, using her skirts as purchase to buck himself harder into her cunt. “You make me this way.” He grunts against her lips. His stomach was already tightening with every bit of friction they could get. “Do you understand? You’re just so pretty and you smell divine—fuck.” Jace grits his teeth, biting at her lower lip. She was a panting mess beneath him, unable to do anything other than take it, digging her nails into his shoulders to cope with how good it felt. His weight pinned her down deliciously, hips still incessant and rubbing against her with enough force to make the divan squeak. It was like music to his ears. “I’m already close just feeling your sweet cunt, my love.” Jace pulls up her gown a bit more, almost up to her ribs, to watch the tent in his pants glide up her glistening folds like a man bewitched. “You need to see it–” He grunts, bracing himself on the armrest behind her head, lifting himself just enough to make a space between their bodies. The sight was a wicked one.

“Look at the way you take me.” He urges, voice hoarse this time, eyes meeting hers from above. “Soaked enough to wet my breeches—and I’m not even inside of you yet.” Her nails dig harder into him, a breathless whine at the disbelief of it all. “Please Jace!” She mewls, shivering, and he grins, snapping his hips against hers with reverence. “Please what, my love? Use your words.” His tone was mocking, teasing, and eager to make her squirm. The quiet shuffling of their clothes was driving her to insanity—and she wanted more than anything to pull it all off, but they had places to be very soon. “I need—Gods! I need you, Jace!” He was more than pleased by that, and he somehow carries enough restraint to stop himself from finishing right there. Jacaerys pulls himself back to tug down his breeches down just enough, his cock momentarily springing back to hit his stomach.

She melts at the sight of his tip—red and leaking shiny precum back toward his shaft. He was the perfect size for her; not too big or too small, and pretty just like the rest of him. Jace hisses quietly as the sensitivity hits him, dipping himself between her folds just to savor the moment. “Mmm look at your pretty cunt, my love. So beautiful.” He murmurs, his own thighs trembling as he slides his shaft through your slick. “Thighs up, sweet girl.” Her eyes roll back as his tip presses into her little bud, the motion agonizingly slow, and she nearly hadn't heard him. She braces her thighs to her chest as much as her bunched up gown would allow, gaze locked on Jace's angled face that was furrowed in concentration. She watches, face reddened, as he spits down onto himself, lubricating the way even though it probably wasn't needed with how soaked she was. Suddenly, his palm comes down on her clit, surprising her with equal amounts of pain and pleasure—she nearly came with a meek gasp of his name, inadvertently yanking his hair. “Jace!”

“Sorry. Couldn't help myself.” He grins, lips meeting hers in a sweet peck. “I want you to look at me when I slip it, love—look nowhere else but right here.” As he guides his tip inside, her breath hitches, captivated by the stretch of him and the glossy brown eyes staring down at her, hazed with lust. A growl erupts from his throat, feeling suffocated now by her walls, and he couldn't get enough. Jace wasn't one to swear often in front of his wife-to-be, but the obscenities flew from his mouth like she was his prayer, sinking himself slowly inch-by-inch. Not that his betrothed was in any better condition. She was clawing at him now, whining and squirming uncontrollably at the delectable sting that came with taking Jace. It hurt so good, and she was sure she'd throw a fit if he dared to pull out for whatever reason. Meeting be damned. Seated fully in her hot cunt, Jacaerys grips the back of her right thigh, pacing himself to allow her to adjust first.

They wait in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, no noise in the room other than their soft pants, and a few breathless giggles as Jace shields her eyes from the attacking sunlight. Silently, she cues him to continue. “Good girl.” He murmurs, starting slowly with gentle strokes that make her stomach warm. “Taking me so well, my love.” He hovered over her still, his other hand braced against the armrest as he watched himself disappear inside of her, a shiver rolling down his spine. “So good.” She mewls, leaking around his cock. Jace leans his head down to connect their lips again, tongue darting into her mouth like he owned her, his free hand taking a greedy handful of her breast through the gown. Moans swallowed down between kissing and breathing, the only sounds that could be heard were the chirping birds and the vulgar slapping of skin as the pace quickened. She could only hope no one would come looking for them—or walk down the corridor even. She couldn't recall Jace locking the door behind him. “I'm close—” He grunts, pulling back from her lips to rock his hips with fervor. “I'm so fucking close, love.”

The divan beneath them was far more noisy now than it had been when they were grinding. Jace had half a mind to let the damned thing break, especially with how tight she squeezed around him, sucking up every inch he provided. Outside, the bells of Dragonstone rang, signaling high noon was upon them—Gods, the meeting. “We need to hurry up!” She pants, thigh hooking around him, just as eager to come. “You promised this would be quick!” Irritation bubbles up in his stomach, and Jace gathers her in his arms, fed up with the thought of having to sit through yet another council meeting. “You want me to hurry up?” He grunts, although it came out as a hiss more than anything, his left foot planting firmly on the floor beside the divan. “Fine.” She couldn't make herself regret her demand even if she tried. Jace stood up straight as a board, his sweet girl being gripped by her gown as he fucked up into her with reckless abandon. She couldn't even remember what it felt like to breathe when her release came, senses flooding with pleasure like she'd been numb her entire life. His cock was hitting that spot like a bullseye, not stopping even after she started yanking on his hair from the overstimulation.

“Do you like it when I hurry, love?” He rasped breathlessly by her ear, one arm around her middle now while his right hand cradled the back of her neck. “You certainly like when I take out all my frustrations on your pretty cunt—Gods, I'm coming. I'm fucking coming sweet girl.” Jace chokes, exhaling sharply through his nose as his hips began to stutter, losing his brutal pace. “Can I come inside of you? Please?!” The beg falling from his plush lips sent a thrill down her spine, and she moaned out her agreement even after he asked twice for confirmation. That's all it takes for Jace to press her into the divan again, fucking her hard, fast, and sloppy, his body laying over hers in the desperation of chasing his release. He buries himself against her chest, coming deep within her as a long, drawn out groan escapes him. The relief was instantaneous; anxiety gone, frustration fucked out of him, and only bliss was left behind. Balls deep, he couldn't tell where she began and he ended. Silence. Rapid breaths. Stilled hips, other than an occasional twitch as they reeled from their orgasms. He lifts his face from her chest weakly, a lazy, sated smile gracing his handsome features. “Sweet girl..” He starts. Her eyes flick up to look at him, equally as spent and satisfied. “Mmhm?”

“I think we're late for the council meeting.”

[himegureisu]

Time

Summary: Your love language is quality time. However, your husband is the King of Mirkwood.

A/N: I was supposed to write a Mycroft Holmes/Female Reader. However, this idea popped up and went brr in my head and then my fingers. I needed to finish it before it went so here it goes my first for this pairing I hope you enjoy! (And good night for me because it’s 4AM also not proofread)

Pairing: Thranduil x Female Elf Reader

——————————— 🍃 ———————————

“What was it, meleth nín?” Thranduil asked, “I apologize our time is to be cut short again,”

It was the nth time someone interrupted your strolls to whisk him away for a matter of utmost significance and to be honest, you were tired of it.

Trying so desperately to take time between the day to see him. To get a moment of his time.

He was a King.

A title that holds responsibilities he could not neglect. You know that. However, you didn’t expect to be pushed aside.

“It’s nothing,” you fake a smile, “You should go they need you,”

But I need you too.

You didn’t try after that.

Your handmaiden noticed your melancholy days after the incident. It was like he didn’t notice you were gone.

Yes, you did eat together most of the time. However, you didn’t pop by his office during your free time. You didn’t leave snacks anymore for him to munch on when he forgets to eat. You didn’t propose to walk so you could both stretch your legs. You didn’t wait for him to go to bed.

Contrary to your belief, your husband did notice your absence.

His days were often tedious and tiring. Your short visits were always something he looked forward to. The bright spot to his days so when palace staff gossip came through his ears…

“The Queen seems pale. Is she ill?” a soft feminine voice asked in concern,

“Oh, why would she be ill?” a different voice, an ellon this time, “Maybe she’s expecting a child!”

“She could be ill because of the child.” the elleth remarks, as another joins in the conversation,

“The Queen is not expecting I would know.”your handmaiden divulged as much, No, she seems dejected.”

“The King has been busy…”

Her words echoed in his mind because it was true. His thoughts wandered to those moments your times were constantly interrupted and the day you last visited.

Oh.

“Where is the Queen?” he asks your handmaiden, who exited the study, a book on hand for you.

“At the gardens, My Lord,” she simply answered.

“That’s for her?” he gestured to the book, she nods meekly, “I’ll take it to her. Go tend to your other duties,”

Your handmaiden scurries off in fear and intimidation to go prepare your clothes for the evening. On the other hand, your husband quickly makes his way to the gardens where he couldn’t see you.

“By Valar,” he mumbles frustratedly, walking through the foliage, “Where are you?”

Your soft sniffles give you away.

Between two trees, there was a hammock tied on to their sturdy barks. On the hammock, beneath a thick blanket, you hug his pillow as your tears fell down your cheeks.

From outside your cocoon, the grass crackle as slow footsteps approach your hideout.

Your book finally.

“Did you find that book I asked for?”

“I did,”

A different voice answered. One you haven’t heard from in what seemed like days. His voice.

“Meleth nín,” he breathed out, “Please do not hide from me,”

“I’m hardly presentable,” you sniffed, wiping your tears away, as the hammock tilts a bit on one side, “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting of sorts?”

“No,” he frowns, sitting on the edge of the fabric, the book left on by his side, “I don’t care if you’re presentable or not. I’m not the kingdom,”

Slowly, you emerge from your shell to be greeted by his silver eyes, dull in color much like your own has been these past couple of weeks.

“Oh, meleth,”

There were dark shadows beneath your eyes. Your cheeks were stained with dry tears and nose flush from mucus buildup. His heart twisted beneath his chest at the sight of you.

What has he done?

“Oh, meleth nín,” he said, taking you in his arms for a warm embrace you missed, “I’m sorry. I am a fool,”

He hated being the cause of your tears.

“You were,” your voice cracked, as you tuck yourself beneath his chin savoring his presence, “I missed you so much,”

“I missed you too,” he kisses your forehead, and pulls you closer, “I’m sorry that I didn’t reach out, didn’t make the time, made you cry, made you feel like this…”

Your tears fall once again down your cheeks to his robes. He noticed. He noticed your absence after all.

“You are my starlight, my reason to go on,” he softly declared, “I promise I’ll try to do better,”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what I needed” you quietly admit, “I thought I’d be bother you already do so much,”

“You are never a bother,” he adamantly says, glancing down to see you also looking at him, “You are always welcome to whisk me away from the duties of court. I’d rather you than them.”

“Their needs are much more important than mine,” you say.

“But your needs are the most important to me,” his words caused your heart to flutter in the most endearing ways. “You are the most important to me. You do not need to vie for my time or attention. You will always have it. Though, I may not notice it at times you should not hesitate to tell me.”

“If so, can we just stay like this?” you breathed out tiredly against his chest, your ear to his heart beating soundly beneath, “I just… need you,”

“We can,” he gently kisses your forehead, as your eyelids droop down, “It would be a pleasure,”

“Thranduil,” you softly whisper, as he places his forgotten pillow beneath your heads, “Gi melin,”

“Gi melin, meleth nín,” his fingers tuck a stray strand of your hair behind your ear as you settled on his chest, “Sleep. I will be here when you wake,”

It wasn’t long until you did.

Your breaths soft and even as Thranduil gently places the book on the ground so neither of you gets stabbed by its’ edges. He pulls you the closest he could, you unconsciously grasp tight.

Just the way you both liked it.

He lays there quietly observing the heavens, where scattered white clouds and birds of the realm adorned the blue skies, wondering how he was so lucky to have fallen for a second time to you.

He didn’t know what time it was and frankly, he didn’t care when his eyes slowly surrendered to the thrall of slumber joining you in blissful rest for the afternoon.

He would do better. He was going to do better. For you.

[sugoi-writes]

Hi, i have a proposition for you...

Alastor catching himself bleating whenever reader touches him 👀

(i just find it so adorable when he squeaks like a little fawn when Rosie pulls him in that one scene and the theory that he does that only when he's happy and with a person he feels comfortable with)

Gdhdhd I had discovered this a while back, and the idea THRILLS me. To no fucking end! I hope this is okay and worth the wait! (Two Fics in one week? HUH?)

No warnings for this one! Just cute cute fluff (I'm doing my best! ;w; gdhdhdhd)

A Bleating Heart - Alastor x GN! Reader

You were reading your book in Alastor's armchair, taking in the heat that radiated from the mint green flames of the fireplace. When you heard a groan to your rear, you paused. You looked behind you, only to see Alastor tossing and turning onto his side. You couldn't help your frown, watching as Alastor's brows furrowed. The Radio Demon was frustrated, his cheek smashed into his pillow aggressively. 

"...everything alright, dear?" You ask softly, recalling that he was 'laying down' to get rid of his headache. Though you knew that Alastor wasn't one for sleep, you kept quiet and content all the same. But when he shook his head, pointing directly to it, you understood perfectly. 

" 'Antlers still bothering you, huh...? Headache?" 

Alastor hummed lowly, turning over and laying face down into his bed. While he was muffled by a pillow, you could barely make out what he said:

" I loathe shedding... It hasn't even begun, and-- oh, they itch-- to no end..." 

"And I assume that doesn't help your headache either?" 

Alastor grumbled, unable to be upset at your gentle pestering. You doted on him like his mother, a quality he would never admit to loving about you," ...Not a lick, dear..." 

You innocently stand from the armchair, walking over to Alastor's bedside," Would... Would it helped if you laid your head in my lap?" 

Alastor raises his head up slightly, eyes narrowed," I hardly see how that could help in this predicament..." You sigh, gently rolling Alastor over onto his back before sitting in the space he used to occupy. Begrudgingly, he did not stop you, but his eyes followed you cautiously. 

"Just trust me... Okay?" 

Alastor's expression soured. Trust is a hard-earned thing to receive from him. The Radio Demon, in all his glory, was slow to make acquaintances, and slower to give out trust. But, he relented, allowing you to sit beside him comfortably. When you patted your lap expectantly, Alastor complied. Due to his antlers, he awkwardly laid sideways on his bed, knees rising and coming together as his head finally met your lap. Thankfully, you would not be disemboweled by his accursed antlers tonight. 

When you smiled down to him, Alastor simply closed his eyes, unable to look your way without feeling embarrassed. This was well outside of his comfort zone. He was feeling incredibly vulnerable while his body did everything to antagonize him. He felt like he was between a rock and a hard place, despite your plush thighs cradling his head.

However, when he felt your hand brush against his hair, scratching gently, his throat ran dry. All nerves and stiffeness became lesser; like the rest of his senses, they became dulled. 

The touch was... Foreign, soft... But not unwelcome. It was soothing, even. When you continued to touch, your hands working in subtle circles against his scalp, he couldn't help the quiet, pleased hum that left him. 

" 'Feels good, my buck?" 

Alastor cracked one eye open, his smile wavering,"...please don't make me say it out loud," Alastor said quietly, a chuckle rising in his throat. You shrugged, not minding his shyness. 

"Hmm, it would be so much cuter if you did, though~" 

When your hand moved to an antler, scratching gently at the base, a full-body tremor ran through his neck down to his hooves. His knees knocked together, a quiet, animalistic noise tumbling out of him. You blink a few times, surprised by the noise, and decided to repeat the action. When a meek, content bleat hit your ears, your eyes nearly doubled in size. You were beaming down at Alastor, a large, giddy inhale expanding your chest. Your heart throbbed at the subconscious gesture. 

Meanwhile, Alastor's eyes were slammed shut, much tighter than before. His heart was racing with anxiety, his palms suddenly feeling clammy. 

Why. Why now, of all times, could he not keep his pathetic little ticks at bay? Of course he found comfort in your company, but-- 

...Maybe he should have used his words, after all. 

"Alastor, was that...?" 

"If you value your life, you will never speak of this again." 

You throw your free hand up defensively, a coy smile on your face," Oh sure, sure... Of course. Whatever you say, Alastor." When a second hand joined the other, lightly scratching at the base of his other antler, that small, high pitched bleat bounced right out of him. 

"Mmm... Yes... Yes, not a word, mon ange... Not a single word... but this-- this is fine for now..." 

You chuckle, increasing the pressure you applied as Alastor melted into your touch. 

"If you continue to be this adorable, I would never speak again, if it meant you stayed like this forever~" Alastor's hands folded together, laying on his chest. Soon enough his knees fell apart, creating a wide 'v'. He looks to you with both eyes as his brow twitches. 

"And what fun would that be? I rather enjoy our conversations, cher." You nearly snorted, surprised that Alastor didn't realize you were joking. 

You laugh, your shoulders shaking with an effort to be quiet as Alastor's legs finally gave out, hanging lazily off of the bed. When your hands moved higher up his antlers, you noticed his legs swinging back and forth idly. You wondered if he noticed, or if this was yet another subconscious action. 

" Fine, fine... I promise to keep talking~ but only if I get to keep spoiling you like this." 

Alastor feels his heart squeeze at the notion, a warmth spreading across his cheeks and ears. He refused to confirm or deny your request with words, instead shimmying his shoulders to sink further into your lap. An open-mouthed sigh was your only response as you lightly dragged your nails across one of his points, his hands untangling from one another. His body almost felt like liquefied, completely and utterly relaxed, taking up an obnoxious amount of space on his bed. And for once, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy it while in someone else's presence. 

He felt safe... Immensely so. But he would never profess to that to you so soon. 

For now, he was content with you playing with his hair, scratching his irritable antlers while he listened to you speak. Quite frankly, it wouldn't take long for Alastor's mind to shut down, his body losing the fight to slumber. When you noticed his breathing toggle to a steady, silent repetition, you resigned yourself to being a pillow. If you were honest, you would sooner die again than move from that spot. You would only permit that once Alastor woke up again, head clear and eyes soft... You wondered how he would look waking up, the adorable thought alone making you feel a surge of glee.

You didn't mind the sensation of pins and needles settling in your legs, knowing that this was a rare moment. Why interrupt something so fleeting? So precious?

You couldn't help but watch as Alastor laid in your lap, unmoving and completely slack. You decided you wouldn't tell him about how he lost his smile while he slept. In the rarest of moments, his lips were agape, formed into a flat, horizontal line. You'd tuck that secret into the back of your mind for safe keeping... A fond memory you'd hang on to for the rest of your afterlife. (A secret almost as precious as his quiet snores, which started when you played with his hair again.) You almost squeaked when Alastor bleated again, much softer than when he was awake. Yes, it would be best if you never mentioned it... Alastor would die from sheer embarrassment alone, you think.

You let out a tired yawn, your mind wandering. Honestly? If you were really, truly in Hell... Well, this was a pretty splendid way to spend it, wasn't it? Why seek forgiveness and redemption, when your entire world was in your lap? And with that thought in mind, you decided to get some sleep, your head resting against the cool wood of Alastor's headboard. 

[greeniegirl23]

Alastor As A Father (Son Version)

- 10 hours. You had been in labor for the second time in your life and it lasted 10 fucking hours...

-As the doctors tended to your newborn son, you quickly grabbed Alastor by his throat and growled in his ear. "If you ever put me in this position again I promise I'll throw you out of the hotel so the Angels can erase you during the next extermination!! Are we clear?!"

He gulped, dangerously aware of your seriousness. "Crystal.."

- Back to your newborn. He was similar to his sister when she was a baby. Your son wasn't a crybaby., not even in the slightest. Only whimpering or whining when he wanted something. It took a lot to make him actually cry and when he did you both knew he was hurt or you'd probably have to kill somebody.

- This time around, Alastor had decided to step up his parenting game and started doing some research. Starting out with some baby books that Charlie lent him from her Dad. He became very invested in your child's development and even tried to convince you that your daughter might have been a 'slow' baby in her toddler years.

"Al, for the hundredth time our daughter turned out fine!" You groaned, rinsing off a plate and handing it too him to dry. "You can't believe everything those books say, especially when they're so.. statistic based."

Alastor huffed. "Darling, according to the book she should have started walking earlier than when she did. Assuming that it's true, I don't want the same for our boy. They will have to protect each other when we're no longer around. Which means he's going to have to be a strapping young gentleman and there's no better time to start than now."

- Unfortunately, this started a somewhat heated argument between you. Alastor was frustrated that you couldn't see how important it was to get an early start, while you were pissed at the fact that he thought your very intelligent, very capable 13 year old was slow and that he was putting too much pressure on your 4 month old who still enjoyed chewing on his own feet.

- As much as you fought for him to understand your point, Alastor became an immovable boulder and you were too dull of an axe to crack him open.

- This stressed you out for two reasons. One, the potential for your son to grow up underneath insane amounts of pressure at such a young age was high. Two, you knew Alastor would sneak behind your back to mold this boy into who he believed he should be and unfortunately, there wasn't much you could do about it.

- You had to trust that in time Alastor would learn from mistakes he made. Until he did though, you promised to be there emotionally for your son and to stop your husband from going too far.

-As your boy grew, the fears you had for him began to come to light. Alastor was just as harsh as an old master. Despite your son's grades, physical strength, and domestic skills for a boy, it still was never enough for his father. It was bad enough the point where your son exclaimed that he hated his father.

"He's never happy with me!" Your now six-year-old child cried in your chest after another incident of Alastor's cold hearted nature. "I drew a picture of him today in class, got all A's on my assignments and he just brushed it off! I don't understand.." He sniffled. "Did I..-Did I do something bad?"

"Of course not Sweetie," You said, trying to comfort him. He's tears soaked your shirt as you tried to come up with a plan to put a stop to this madness.

"Then why doesn't he love me..?"

- The sharp pang in your heart that you felt in that moment brought you and your husband back to a pretty foul argument that went unfinished years prior. Giving that man a piece of your mind once again felt good and this time he was going to listen regardless of if he wanted to or not. How dare he make your child feel that way?! Much less make him cry!

"The boy is too sensitive." Alastor groaned, flipping through his news paper. "He's crying over absolute nonsense."

"He's been crying because you've been on his ass like white on rice since he was three months old!" You exclaimed. "All he's trying to do is impress you but you shoot him down and strap him with more work and expectations. He's six, Alastor!"

Alastor growled. "If he's so obsessed with feelings like love and acceptance, then clearly I'm failing at my job as a parent. Do you think the people of Hell care about utter gutter trash like that? I'm making him strong so can protect himself and his sister, to protect you if I should meet my second demise. Why don't you seem to understand that?!"

Sadness took over your features as you realized that Alastor had blinded himself by his own worries. "Your job as a parent is to feed them, cloth them, give them shelter, and to be there for them. That counts being there emotionally!"

Finally Alastor had enough, "He'll be fine, this conversation is over." He grumbled, preparing to walk off to dismiss you again.

"No, it's not!" You yelled, getting right in his face to show you weren't backing down. You knew he'd never lay a hand on you or anything of the sort, but the tensions were high and you needed his full acknowledgement.

"Our jobs as parents are to protect our children, but your so worried about preparing them for this godforsaken place until you can't even save your son from yourself!" You backed away for a second, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

"Do you realize what he could become from your neglect? He could be the next fuckin' Jeffery Dahmer or Ted Bundy all because of your efforts to make him "strong"." You sighed, shaking your head in confusion and disappointment as your eyes grew glossy. "Alastor you weren't ever like this with our daughter. Sure you were a bit overprotective of her but you still allowed her to be a child. So why do things have to be different for our son?.."

- Alastor looked at you for what seemed like an eternity. The moment lasts so long as your tongue grows thick in your mouth. With an angry huff after what seems like forever, he just, walked right by you. Grabbing his tail coat and heading out the door.

- To say you were shocked was an understatement. Immediately you fell to your knees and started to cry. Weeping for yourself, for your son, because your husband was too damn stubborn sometimes, and because you weren't strong enough to stop him.

- You came to the conclusion that you needed some space. Quickly you gathered your children and their belongings, made a call, and went back to the place where it all started.

- Charlie welcomed you with open arms, happy to see you once again and offering you a shoulder to cry on if needed.

-You took her up on that offer, as well as Vaggie while the other patrons enjoyed the company of your kids. Angel Dust even recommended a shopping day with everyone, for old times sake. Your daughter agreed happily in her monotoned voice while your baby boy seemed quiet.

- As you ran back the events of the night to your friends, they both seemed equally as concerned as you were for your son's well-being.

-Speaking of which. You hadn't seen or heard from him in a while now. Last you checked, he had gone in the kitchen to get a drink. You asked if anyone had seen him since, only to get a sound of reverberating "No's"

- You panicked. Running to the kitchen only to find the window open and one of the knives on the counter was missing. A note hung on the curtain, quickly you read it.

"Daddy made me cry and he made you cry too. I think it's his turn to cry now. I'm sorry Mama.."

A disturbing chill crawled quickly up your spine as you ran back out into the lobby screaming in fear.

-You gave Husker the note as Charlie demanded the car to be brought around so you could stop your son's psychotic break.

"Don't you think we're overreacting a bit? He's six and like 4'3 he can't have gotten far." The grumpy cat said.

"This is Alastor's kid we're talking about, do you really think he's your typical elementary school boy? She sliced someone's arm off when she was eight!" Vaggie exclaimed, referring to your daughter who was now trying to console you.

"Our Dad was gone before we left home, maybe he's not back yet?" She inquired hopefully.

"Sweetie, I didn't tell him we were leaving. If he's gone out he always comes back around 10:30 to say good night to you and your brother. It's 11:00, so I'm sure he's home by now."

-As you, Charlie, Vaggie, and Husker hopped in the car to speed off to your home. You couldn't help but pray to God that something would stop your son from going through with something so cruel.

- Alastor sighed as he walked back into his home. It was wrong for him to talk out like that and his reprimand from Rosie was finally what helped him understand that.

-He was ready to apologize to you and to his son. Expecting you to appreciate his change of heart and maybe even earn his son's forgiveness.

-What he didn't expect, was an empty house. Nor the note on the fridge explaining where you were. It has a few tear stains on it and he cursed himself for making you cry. As he read it, part of him wanted to go to the hotel and apologize to you there. The other part of him realized he had pushed you away too far and maybe, just maybe you needed some time alone to reel in your thoughts.

- Slowly, he made his way up the stairs into your shared bedroom. Smelling like whiskey and feeling slightly depressed. His smile was maintained of course, though it was small and forced to whoever might see it.

- He flopped into bed. Rather ungracefully but he didn't care, there was no one around. No one to scold him or ask him if he had a hard day.

- The house creaked as the night wind blew through his window. His face was stuffed in a pillow as he smelled the faint scent of your shampoo. Flowery, like his Mother used to wear.

-She was always there for him. Kind of like you were always there for your family as well. Both him and your children looked to you for inspiration, love, and affection. Which made him feel even worse for putting you in such a position earlier. Here you are, giving him children, making time for them and him, while also trying to make time for yourself. Fighting against your own husband just so he could see what was important to you, only for him to brush it all off in a hissy fit because he couldn't handle being told he was doing a bad job at being a good father.

-Now, when you asked him about this at a later time. He told you he's unsure of how it happened. He can't remember if he was so wrapped up in his thoughts to the point he wasn't aware of his surroundings, or if your son may be part snake instead of part deer.

-But what he does remember is turning on his back just in time to stop the butcher knife from impaling him straight through the heart. How the hell this person got into the house and into his bedroom without making a sound is something Alastor would never know.

-Whoever the hell had lost their mind to do such a thing was about to become a stain on the wall because if their was one thing for certain and two things for sure Alastor wasn't in the fucking mood until he realized the familiar figure in the darkness was his own flesh and blood.

-His son. His own son was straddling his waist, struggling against his Dad's 137 year old strength at just six and a half years of existence. Alastor didn't understand what was going on, why was he doing this and where were you?!

"What are you doing?!" Alastor yelled. Trying to figure out what on earth was happening.

The boy stayed silent and screamed out something close to a war cry as he used his entire body weight to push the knife closer to Alastor's chest.

"I'm talking to you boy and you'd better answer me this instant!"

"Shut UP!" He shouted. "You don't get to talk to me! Not after what you did earlier today!"

Alastor's heart stopped a bit after he realized that his son had overheard the argument between the two of you.

"That was a misunderstanding! Your mother and I may have exchanged words but everything will be alright, now put the knife down!"

The child growled something feral. "It's not going to be okay, things between us were never okay! From the moment I started training under you, you've been nothing but a big bully. I'd go crying to Mom when you weren't around because all you ever saw me for was worthless! You never loved me and I was willing to accept that because Mom promised me that you'd change in time, but after today I don't believe that anymore!"

With a swift move, the boy had broken the arm lock he was in and lifted the knife over his head to plunge into the man he called Father. Tears weld in his eyes as he swung forward, his pupils changed similar to Alastor's and his voice became distorted with anger and malice. For the first time, Alastor swore he knew how his victims felt as his own smile grinned mercilessly back at him.

"YOu MaDE my MoTHeR CrY AnD FOR thAT, I'LL mAKE SuRE YoU NEvEr MaKE EIthER oF US cRY AgAIN!!"

- It was like a switch in his head had been flicked on. Alastor watched as his son swung his blade forward in slow motion. Memories of himself and what he had done to his own father came whirling back.

- The past seemed to have repeated itself. What a sick and twisted universe. He remembered the arguments between his parents. The sounds of glass shattering and his mother's begging for the pain to stop. He remembered peaking into her room to see her covering her face with makeup to hide the bruses. The fake smiles she'd give him in the morning while she cleaned up the mess from the night before. The deep silence between him and his Dad when he stabbed him to death in the very same way. He tried to hide the body on his own, he didn't want mother to be mad at him or find out. But she did and may have indirectly set his path down a dark road by justifying his actions at 14 years of age.

"Murder ain't good Alastor," She said, sitting him on her lap as she rocked with him in her rocking chair. Her sweet Southern drawl was like music to his ears. "You shouldn't have killed that man, n' I won't try to pretend what you did was right."

"Yes ma'am..." He replied sadly, on the verge of tears until she spoke again.

"Listen Allie. Anyone who kills another person, just for the sake of making someone else smile, is alright with me. I know the only reason you did what you did, is because you felt like you had to and you couldn't stand to see me gettin hurt no more." she sighed. "I just wish I was strong enough to leave when I had the chance, n maybe' you're lil would have stayed clean from the blood of my mistakes.."

"M'Sorry Mama.."

She smiled. "No Baby, I'm sorry. For makin' you live through that when you shouldn't have. My sins are now yours to bare. N' sadly there ain't much I can do to fix that." Fixing his glasses on his face, she gave him a hug and kissed his forehead. "Promise me you'll stay strong Alastor, bare these sins with a smile and don't add on to them unless you absolutely have to."

"I promise." He replied. Swearing silently to make her proud and for her to keep smiling, no matter what.

-Everything made sense now. Truly it did. Why you were so concerned. How he became so blind. What he buried deep within and how he manifested into the situation he was in now.

-But unlike his father, Alastor had a choice and a chance to do better before it was too late. Quickly, the Radio Demon sat up and snatched the knife out of his son's grip mid swipe. The blade clattered to the ground and gave his child the loving embrace he so desperately needed.

"I'm sorry." He said with sincerity. "I should have never made your Mother cry, nor should I have ever made you feel less than appreciated. I am proud of what you've done, who you've become, and who you're going to be."

He felt the small body go rigid. Freezing in confusion as his Dad actually told him how he felt for once. Alastor continued. " I'm sorry for making you think I never loved you. In fact, I love you so much that I wanted you to be perfect. To be strong, to protect your sister, and your mother when I'm not here anymore. But I put far too much on you too soon, which was unfair to you in a number of ways. I only wanted the best for you, but I couldn't see that I was harming you in the process and I never, ever wanted that..."

Pulling away from his son, one of the biggest pride and joys he had down in this disgusting cesspool. He wiped the child's tears away and gave him a genuine smile.

"You are my son and I love you, I apologize that it took me so long to say it, but it is true. I'm proud of you for being willing to protect your mother, even from me. I had to do the same thing around your age to the man that would have been your grandpa, but he was terrible to us and deserved to be slaughtered. You're already further ahead than I am, so please. Forgive me and I promise our relationship from here on will be much, much different than what it's been."

- Alastor watched as his son hiccuped and sobbed. Nodding his head and mumbling out a meek "Okay.." He dove in for another hug and Alastor allowed him to stay there and cry tears of relief for as long as he needed to.

- Not too long afterwards, you came barreling into the house and raced up stairs. Calling Alastor's name and for your son until you literally kicked down the door to your bedroom, stopping at what you found and thanking God for hearing your prayers.

-The others came after you in a frenzy but quickly let out breathes of relief at the sight of your smile. Quietly you 'shhhed' them and stepped aside to see the same beautiful sight you did.

-There on your king sized bed, sat your husband and his son. Alastor was propped upwards against the headboard, using pillows to support is back while his head was supported by your son. The six year old was snuggled up against his father's chest, sleeping soundly underneath his throat while Alastor's arms seemed to form a somewhat protective cage around him.

- Smiling happily, you closed the door to the room and headed downstairs with everyone else. Heading back to the hotel and leaving a note for Alastor in the morning that encouraged him to catch up on lost time with your second-born. Satisfied that their bond was finally forming into something beautiful.

(Wow, I did not plan to get as invested in this as I did. I just let the story flow and got this, honestly I love it and would like to see some of my theories between Alastor and his Mom come to fruition. Anyways, I'll see y'all in the next post! Don't forget to comment something you might want to see me write next :D P.S Why the fuck did I post this without editing it..?)

[darlingsblackbook]

Distant Echeos 3

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Arranged Marriage AU

Summary : The time of an old pact, promising your hand to the heir of the Gojo clan, has come. It is now your wedding, how will the two of you continue from here?

Wordcount : 1,3K

Warnings : Hurt, Angst, Angst and Angst. Sad y/n :'(

AN : This is part Three!

It had been almost a month since Gojo and I were married, but it felt as though the time had stretched into an eternity. The penthouse, which was supposed to be a shared home, now felt more like a gilded cage—too large, too empty, too quiet.

I had hoped, in the beginning, that things would get better. That with time, maybe Gojo would warm up to me, or at least acknowledge the effort I was putting into trying to make this situation work.

But as the days passed, my hope dwindled. Every time he came home—if you could even call it that—it was like watching a shadow pass through. He was there one moment, gone the next, always with the same distant expression, the same dismissive tone.

I barely existed in his world. And slowly, I felt myself fading because of it.

I had stopped preparing his lunches. He never ate them anyway, and the sight of another untouched bento sitting on the counter had become too painful to bear.

It wasn’t that I had expected him to suddenly fall in love with me, but I had at least thought he might care a little. A small acknowledgment, a quiet thank you that meant he saw me, even if only as his wife in name. But no.

He left in the morning, often before I woke up, and returned only when he needed something. Clothes, documents, a momentary break before heading back to his real life.

Not once did he ask how I was doing. Not once did he ask if I needed anything.

So, I stopped trying to reach out. It was easier that way. Less painful.

Instead, I retreated further into myself, finding solace in the small routines that gave my day structure. I kept the penthouse clean—spotless, even—though I knew he didn’t notice.

I went grocery shopping, even though half the food I bought went uneaten. I made simple meals for myself, always enough for two, but always alone at the table.

The silence became my companion, and I grew more comfortable with it. At least the silence didn’t hurt. At least the silence didn’t look right through me.

°•♡•°

One evening, about a week after I’d stopped making him lunches, I heard the door open. It was late—later than usual for him to stop by—but I didn’t bother looking up from where I sat, curled up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around me.

I had a book open in my lap, though I hadn’t really been reading. The words blurred together in front of me, my mind too numb to concentrate.

Gojo’s presence filled the room like it always did—vast, overwhelming, but somehow distant, as though he wasn’t really there at all.

I heard him move around, his footsteps quiet but purposeful as he grabbed a fresh set of clothes from the bedroom. I waited, hoping he might say something, anything, but the only sound was the rustle of fabric and the soft click of the closet door.

And then, without a word, he was gone again.

I didn’t move from my spot, but the familiar ache in my chest grew a little stronger, a little heavier.

What had I expected? For him to sit down and ask how my day had been? For him to actually notice me sitting there, waiting for some sign that I wasn’t invisible?

No. I had learned better by now. Hoping only led to disappointment.

With a deep breath, I turned my attention back to the book, forcing myself to focus on the words. They were dry, dull—nothing like the romance stories I had once enjoyed.

I used to dream of love, of passion, of a relationship filled with warmth and laughter. But now, even the idea of such things felt foreign. Unreal.

Love wasn’t for people like me. People who were married off for political reasons, who existed as pawns in a game they never asked to play.

I had told myself, over and over again, that I just needed to give it time. That things would get better. But now, after weeks of silence, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold onto that belief.

°•♡•°

The next day, Gojo didn’t come home at all.

I didn’t even realize until I woke up the following morning to an empty, undisturbed house. His clothes were still neatly folded in the closet, his things untouched. I wondered, for a brief moment, if something had happened—if he was hurt or in trouble. But then I remembered who I was married to. Gojo Satoru. The strongest sorcerer in the world. Nothing could touch him.

Nothing except, apparently, the thought of spending time here.

With me.

I went through the motions of the day mechanically—making breakfast, cleaning up, folding laundry—knowing none of it really mattered. I had once thought that keeping the house in order would make me feel like I had some kind of control, but now, even that felt hollow.

By the time the evening rolled around, I was exhausted, though not from any physical effort. It was the kind of tired that seeped into your bones, weighing down every step, every breath. I curled up on the couch again, the same book in my lap, though this time I didn’t even pretend to read.

The emptiness felt bigger tonight. Heavier. Like a tangible thing pressing down on me, reminding me just how alone I was.

I wondered if Gojo felt the same way. He always seemed so self-assured, so confident, but there had to be something under the surface, didn’t there? He couldn’t possibly be this detached all the time. Maybe he hated this marriage as much as I did. Maybe he was just avoiding me because he didn’t know what to say.

I tried to imagine what I would say to him if I had the courage. If I could speak my mind without fear of rejection or indifference.

“Do you hate me?” I whispered into the empty room, the words soft, barely audible even to myself.

But the silence, as always, gave no answer.

°•♡•°

A few more days passed, and Gojo’s absence became a constant. He came by once or twice, late at night, to grab things or change clothes, but he never stayed longer than a few minutes. He never asked about the house or how I was doing. He never asked if I was okay.

I was beginning to wonder if I had been foolish to think that things would ever change.

That night, I lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the moon through the curtains. I felt small, insignificant, like a ghost haunting a place that wasn’t mine.

I had tried to make this house a home. I had tried to make myself a part of this new life. But every effort, every gesture, had been met with silence, with indifference. And now, I wasn’t sure if I had anything left to give.

It wasn’t just the loneliness that hurt. It was the sense of failure. The feeling that no matter what I did, I wasn’t enough.

Not for Gojo.

Not for this marriage.

Not for the life I had been thrust into.

And so, little by little, I retreated further into myself. I stopped trying to reach out, stopped hoping for things to change. I spoke less, stayed in my room more, and let the days blend together in a fog of quiet isolation.

Maybe Gojo was waiting for me to give up. Maybe that’s what he wanted. To be left alone, free from the burden of a wife he never asked for.

Or maybe I was just fooling myself.

Either way, I was sinking deeper into a place I didn’t know how to climb out of. And the worst part was, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to anymore.

♡

The world was on fire but no one can save me but you~ la la

All Rights Reserved © 2024 DarlingsBlackBook

[captain039]

PART 3 He’s Grumpy, I’m sunshine

Alpha!Logan x omega!reader

Warnings: AOB, age gap (legal), light swearing, grumpy/sunshine, anxiety, mental health issues, violence, torture, plus size reader, medication usage for anxiety, depression and sleeping, heat pills, scent blockers

Set at Charles school

Your mutation: fire creation and control

Previous Part <-

You can’t get the alpha off your mind. You’re struggling to focus, struggling to do most things without day dreaming or trying to spot him in the crowd. You felt horrid for what you did to him, no amount of apologising could ever make up for how you burned him. He just sat there though and healed right before your eyes. It didn’t make it any better though. You were off to see Jean, you couldn’t continue like this, you needed time off, where you’d go you have no idea. You walk in rushed and stall again when you see Logan. You turn to leave but Logan’s voice stops you.

“Got a mission, Charles himself requested we go” he says and you frown a little.

You’re given a few days to get ready, you talk to Professor Hank about some way to control your flames or stop them if it was possible. He was hesitant but you begged him and he gave you a serum. You packed your things, packed the serums safely along with brining too many anti-heat and scent blockers. The mission was to look into an underground organisation going on with Mutants. Why the hell Charles asked you to be here you don’t know. You traveled via train into the city then rented a car to head to the town, then booked a motel nearby.

“Here” Logan said handing you a small file and you frown but read it.

Apparently there had been rumours around a bar just outside the town with an underground fighting ring, specifically for fighting mutants. The Government did work with Professor Charles you’re pretty sure, but Logan was the big guns you guess.

Logan hadn’t said a word as you settled down into the motel, hopefully he couldn’t pick up on your anxiety. He left with a small explanation, something about food before he closed the door and you sighed sitting on one of the singles. Why you couldn’t be in your own room was confusing, you went to rent two but he said one with a stern look. You unpack the serum Hank gave you staring at the needles, you hate needles. Hank said to only take it at night just before bed. You quickly hide them when a car pulls up and Logan walks back in with two small bags of food. You eat in silence, glancing to the alpha every few minutes wondering why he was so damn quiet.

“Why’d you bring me?” You ask trying to get conversation as he raises his eyebrow and looks to you.

“Because” he says and you give him a huff.

“Because, isn’t answer” you say.

“Is for me” he looks back to his food and continues eating, end of conversation you guess.

You take a shower just before bed, bring in a change of clothes, toiletries and hiding the serum and your medication in between them. You finish your shower, dry off and stare at the serum, it was for safety, everyone’s safety. You pick the needle up feeling your heart pound in your ears. Hank said to just inject it like a vaccine in the upper arm. A knock at the door comes and you drop the syringe, thankfully back in the small pouch.

“Just a minute!” You call.

“I smell your anxiety from out here” Logan calls and you huff.

“Then cover your nose!” You don’t mean to back talk, but he isn’t helping the situation.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Mind your business” you say and hear him scoff lightly. You frown as the lock clicks open and he opens the door, a single claw extended before he sheaths it. You’re too in shock to say you’re not dressed as he stares a little wide eyed before his eyes trail to the pouch behind you.

“They’re serums! Hank gave them to me I’m not-“ you struggle with words and shaky hands.

“It’s to dull my mutation” you say.

“Like how you dull your scent?” He snarls a little and you frown confused before he realises what he said.

“Forget it” he growls and closes the door harshly making you jolt. What the hell?

You don’t take the serum, just awkwardly shuffle in your nicest PJ’s and get ready to go to bed. Logan’s outside, smoking, same hard strained look on his face. You get under the covers and sigh as the door opens and he walks back in. You mutter a small goodnight but don’t get a response, oh well.

You wake up to shaking and shot upwards hands out to whatever’s in front of you. Logan hisses and you realise it’s him and your hands are on fire and you’ve touched him.

“I’m so sorry! Oh-“ you retract your hands seeing the red burn marks you left on his naked chest. They heal though and you can’t help but stare, it’s amazing to watch.

“What happened?” You asked checking to see if anything else was on fire.

“You were making noises” he grunts.

“Don’t all people mumble when they sleep?” You question wondering why he woke you up.

“Upset, scared noises” he clarifies and you make a small ‘oh’ sound. You keep your eyes on your hands where they rest on the blanket.

“You really shouldn’t be near me” you half joke half don’t.

“I said you wouldn’t hurt me” he says voice surprisingly softer and you scoff.

“I can hurt you” you say looking to where your burns were.

“I’ve had metal injected into my skeleton” he says and you look to his face in horror. He unsheathes his claws.

“These were bone once” he comments and you stare at them before he retracts them. You wish you could smell his scent this close, nothing but dulled alpha. You feel your shoulders sag at the thought and look to your hands again.

“Did I wake you?” You ask quietly looking back to him as he looks at the window.

“Was already awake” he says with a small shrug.

“Oh, you ok?” You asks and he looks back to you. You look at each other for a while, your cheeks heat and you fidget a little before he gets up and moves.

“Go back to be sleep” is all he says going back to his bed.

Next part ->

[solarenchanting]

𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐇 ── .✦ gojō satoru x fem!reader

he made his wish before he even blew the candle

note: not thoroughly proofread (iʼm sorry (//ω//) ) + minor mention of suguru getō + usage of “[name].”

part one: birthday

the soft, silvery glow of the moon poured through the large circular window, illuminating his office. outside, the rain from the late night into the early morning was reduced with the faint drizzle, with the murmur of distant thundering.

the study desk, its wooden surface glistening faintly, was devoid of administration clutter. lesson plans and curriculum materials were stored away in the top drawer, the first-years’ assessments and mission reports in their own binder, and performance records and evaluations in another.

there was not much to it. the office was simple, organised, easy to navigate—a desk on the right side of the room, a lamp in the corner and a coffee table beside him as he sat on his rather expensive (not his words) chair, centered in the room.

there wasn’t a bookshelf filled with his favourite books—did he even have any?

the walls weren’t adorned with various framed portraits of his favourite artworks—no, that wasn’t his office.

there wasn’t a lingering scent of incense—was it lavender or sandalwood burning tonight?—held in that wooden boat burner perched on the windowsill.

there was no ticking of that pendulum clock hanging on a wall. where he’d stand in front of the clock, swaying his head side to side to match the rhythm of the silver swinging weight whenever he visited.

no.

it was quiet.

quiet, like the snow that would fall in tokyo later this month—when you’d compare its soft, powdery texture to his hair beneath your fingertips.

quiet, like the silence that followed that august afternoon. the sky was clear and blue just like his eyes, when you broke up with him.

quiet, like the moment you stood in front of him—almost unfamiliar, looking like the stranger he met years ago—and whispered, “goodbye, satoru.”

quiet, like the way he watched you leave, taking your memories of him with you, despite him still having so much to say.

he scoffed, clicking his tongue. his shoulders rose in a shrug as quick as they fell into a slump. his chair squeaked as he adjusted his position, slouching his back against the backrest with his neck leaning over the top rail.

his right ankle rested over his knee, forming a loose figure four. hands were clasped together over his stomach, he paused to tug at the damned blindfold—your words—lifting it up enough just to reveal one eye. he stared up at the ceiling, his gaze unreadable, lost in his thoughts.

the plain, dull surface seemed to echo the ache lying beneath his usual bravado—an ache that was raw, unrelenting, and impossible to ignore.

the worst part? he didn’t know what to do with it.

he was gojō satoru : the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. the one who shifted the balance of the world at birth. the sole inheritor of limitless and six eyes in four centuries. clan head, the pride of the gojō lineage, blessed with everything and anything—a god amongst mortals.

and yet, at this moment, he felt weak.

weak, because he didn’t know what to do with it—with the pain, the heartache, the… love.

love.

the most twisted curse of all.

a dry chuckle escaped his lips, chest rumbling lowly. he blinked his strained eyes, feeling his facial skin contract slightly from dried tear stains.

was he really going to spend the ungodly hours of his birthday being philosophical? placing reason behind everything that has led up to this?

stupid.

fucking stupid.

but he couldn’t help it. he couldn’t help but wonder: first, it was suguru—his best friend, his one and only—who walked out of his life.

and then, a year and four months ago—and he’s still counting—someone just as significant left him.

was his heart one beat slower than yours?

was he one step behind you?

those times walking side by side, walking hand-in-hand, were you both out of step?

he sighed tiredly, pulling his blindfold down to cover his eye, his hand returning clasp the other. he levelled his neck and stared blankly at the floor, his mind racing with images of you—the you that left him, eyes filled with unshed tears, lips whispering cracked words of finality. despite the painful memory, he couldn't help but think of you.

where are you now?

who are you with?

did you still have those gifts or have they been thrown away?

did you even remember that today—

buzz!

buzz!

he jerked in his seat, turning his head to look down at the coffee table, his phone vibrating eagerly against the wooden surface. his eyes caught a glance of the caller id, and he did a double take, breath catching, in clasping a hand, he reached out for the device with speed, bringing it up to his face.

1:01 ・Saturday, 7 December

Incoming Call

[last name] [name] ・0xx-xxxx-xxx

decline ・ accept

“... uh, hello?”

your voice—familiar and soft, a tentative whisper.

it was sudden; he hadn't thought it through. his heart overtook his mind before he could second-guess himself, pressing the phone to his ear and clearing his throat.

“hey… [name],” he greeted, his voice steady and measured, trying not to sound too wistful. it was simple, but good enough, he hoped.

“hey! i, uh, i just called to say, happy birthday!”

his lips tugged into a lopsided smile. beneath the ache in his heart, warmth began to blossom from hearing your voice—and the fact that you remembered. the forced cheerfulness, despite the awkwardness, was appreciated.

“thank you, i appreciate it. truly,” he chuckled, his voice was a bit hoarse but he hoped you couldn't tell. “you’re the first person to wish me.”

“really?”

he could see your disbelief—furrowed eyebrows, eyes blinking twice, and lips slightly parted. he shook his head, never imagining you’d be surprised by that. you used to stay up until midnight just to wish him first.

“yeah…”

“i see…”

“uh huh...”

you cleared your throat, your brain was definitely scrambling to come up with something to fill in the silence—and he doesn’t blame you, his brain was working overtime right now, grasping at straws.

“so, gojō, how ha—”

“no.”

“... huh?”

he gripped the phone, knuckles turning white.

“don’t—don’t call me that, [name]. don’t talk to me like we’re… strangers.”

you let out a shaky sigh—a breath mixed with uncertainty and resignation.

“then what are we? if not that… satoru?”

“anything but. for now, please?”

he knew he was crossing a line, holding onto a heart that had perhaps already grown thin from letting go of the love it once held for him—god, he hoped not. he prayed.

“satoru,” you warned, trying to be firm but the crack in your voice gave you away. “don't make this harder than it already is.”

“i’m sorry.”

“it’s not your fault.”

it’s not your’s, either—he wanted to say.

he didn't want the first conversation with you in a year and four months to be this tense. granted, this was to be expected. no amount of preparation could have lessened the heaviness of this moment.

in fact, he didn’t want this phone call to be the last moment with him. another painful memory you both have to walk away from—move on from and act like it never happened in front of everyone—the second either of you hangs up.

no, not again.

not if he can help it—not if he can create one last happy memory for the both of you.

“hey, [name]? can you do something for me? consider it my birthday wish.”

“your birthday wish?” you scoffed, playful yet wary. “isn’t that supposed to happen later on today? with a cake and candles with shoko and the rest of ‘em?”

he grinned, leaning back in his chair. he took off his blindfold—a gesture you would’ve appreciated if you were here—and stared back at the ceiling. this time, there was a hopeful glint in his eye.

“nah, not this wish.”

“yeah? what is it, then?”

“come over.”

“...”

“come over and celebrate with me, as if we never broke up, for one last time… please?”

a/n: part two for @moonchhu + @trinniee !! - hope you like it :')

i hope itʼs enjoyable to anyone who stumbles upon it <3

much love, from me to you ♡

[mydearesthrry]

right back home to you - h.s.

a/n: had a hard time deciding if i wanted to put this out since im not too happy with the outcome but i wanted to feed u guys. in the future ill probably go back in and edit it but for now i hope you all enjoy this little angsty girl xx im also working on part 2 of love in secret !!!!!!!!!! she should be out fairly soon <3

wc: 4.8k

warnings: none, angst, fluff, flight anxiety

“Hello? ‘M home,” Harry shouted into the cold house. Not that he would even notice, but the air was dull and the atmosphere was still, hues in the normally vibrant house now gray and lifeless. “Baby?” 

“Oh, hi Harry,” A dulcet smile was on her face as she walked around the corner with sweatpants and a baggy hoodie on, a baseball cap on top of her head. She had her dirty and beat up air forces on her feet that Harry loved to make fun of, small dollops of paint on the soles of the shoe. She also had a pair of sunnies that lay stagnant on the dark blue visor, a tell tale sign for Harry that she was going out. “I didn’t hear you come home.” 

Harry hummed, holding his arms out for her to walk into. She did, but only embraced him with half of her body, one arm curling around his waist loosely while the other stayed swaying by her side. In both of their opinions, it was way too short to even be considered a hug, not even close to being an embrace, but Y/N did it purposely. Harry frowned, feeling a twinge of hurt at her unusual lack of affection. “Um… Are y- are y’going out?” 

She laughed falsely, shaking her head and turning her body to face the large windows in their apartment. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” 

Harry was still confused. “What d’you mean?” 

It’s now or never, Y/N thought, and mustered her bravest smile as she pivot turned to face him again. “I’m leaving, Harry. I’m going up to New York to stay with Eliza. I don’t know when I’ll be home, but I’ll be sure to let you know in advance, is that okay?” 

A few beats pass, Harry staring at her in disbelief. “What the fuck? No, no, s’not okay! Why- why are y’leaving? Y’didn’t even tell me? When were you planning on telling me y’were leaving?” 

“I’ve been planning on leaving for a long time, Harry. I was actually meant to leave before you even got home, really, but you’re early.” She sighed, rubbing at her temple and knowing the fight that was about to ensue. 

“Why are y’leaving?” Harry’s voice started to grow in volume, becoming harder and harsher as he tightened his hands into balled fists, trying to channel his feelings in another way rather than yelling at his girlfriend. 

“I’m leaving because I can’t do this anymore, Harry. I cant keep arguing with you every day, it’s just not fair to me. And it’s not fair to you either, really, so I’m just… taking the stress off of the both of us and making the bold decision to leave.” She explains, moving to grab her suitcases from the hallway and roll them into the living room. 

“That’s wha’ this is about? The fight we had last night?” He asks, eyes widening and mouth drying at the sight of her multiple suitcases. 

“Um— not entirely, I guess. I’ve meant to go up to visit Eliza, if you remember, we were going to but you had um— a party, that you needed to attend. So I just decided to book a flight last night after you went to sleep.” She's as quiet as a mouse, her words not staggering but it was physically obvious that she was nervous. 

“So what now? Is that it? You’re just… throwing away four years of my- of our fucking life?” Harry spat. She’d started to shrink into herself quite a bit, sweaty palms running over the now warm black handle of her small suitcase. 

“I’m not throwing away anything, Harry. We had a fight, you and I both said some nasty things, and I’m just going up to my sister's house for a little bit to clear my head. Like I said, I was meaning to go up anyway. This isn’t really about you, Harry, as much as you think it might be. I’ve been miserable here all alone and all I want is to be with someone who I know can provide me with love and attention right now, which is what I need. You need it too.” She tried to hold her ground but the tremble in her soft voice made her feel weak. 

She and Harry had gotten into a multitude of arguments within the past weeks that he had been off tour. It started from little things, like a sock being thrown over the laundry basket and not inside of it, or one of them leaving their dirty tea mugs on the counter when the sink was right there! But as small and insignificant as these things were, they also grew into arguments about bigger issues. One of the more nasty arguments had pushed her to pack her bags and book a plane ride up to her sister’s house in New York. 

The argument on the table this time around was that whenever Harry was home after an elongated amount of time on the road, he would treat Y/N as if she was his friend and not girlfriend of three years. She’d had a problem with this seeing as all she ever wanted him to do was love her and take care of her, and for some reason she couldn’t help but feel he found that hard. 

“Bullshit. I know y’leaving ‘cause your feelings got hurt or whatever, but you know y’don’t have to leave, pup. We can resolve this, don’t we always?” He grumbles, taking a few small steps forward to meet her where she stood by the door. 

“It’s entirely different this time, Harry.” She sighed, bending down to sit on the floor since she knew they’d probably be there for a while. 

“How?! How could this be any fuckin’ different? We’re jus’ arguin’ are we not?” Harry runs a stressed hand through his hair, trying to channel his energy away from his voice. Though he tried to refrain from allowing his anger to seep its way into his voice, his girlfriend could still pick up on the edge that lined his vocal chords. 

“No, baby. We aren’t just arguing. This is me trying to tell you how I feel, and you keep pushing it aside. So this isn’t just us arguing anymore, I guess I’m surrendering. I’m tired of doing this with you whenever you’re home, Harry. I’m alone every day, 24/7, and then you come home and it’s like nothing has changed. Which I love, I love how we can just bounce back, but sometimes I need more love or attention when you come back, and I just…” She starts to gnaw on her lips, trying to word her next thought carefully. “I’m tired of being treated like your friend rather than your girlfriend.” 

“What?” 

“Mhm. Besides me being alone all the time, whenever I do have you— or people around, you only ever want to keep me at arms length. The whole world knows we’re together, Harry. You’ve posted on my birthday and it’s no secret to anyone anymore. I… I just can’t understand why you do that, really. It makes me feel like I’m just your friend and not your lover.” She pauses, inhaling a sharp breath of air and willing her tears away. 

“What do you— what do you even mean? I’m always with you whenever I’m home, I bring y’everywhere w’me?” His anger just kept growing and growing, but this time he noticed that the weight of guilt that was sitting on his heart had gotten heavier with every breath he took, the weight of the pull almost being able to bring him to his knees.

She lets out a wet laugh, shaking her head before dropping it in defeat. “Harry… I hate to bring it up but— you’ve been home for what, three weeks now? We haven’t had sex, we barely have cuddled, you don’t put your arm around me in public or kiss my cheek. I— I feel like I’m losing you. It’s so hard to love you when you won’t let me. I’ve tried to be understanding and just trying to accept the fact that you’re readjusting to our normal life but… I miss you. The only time we talk for longer than a few minutes is when we fight, and that’s not okay. You know how much you mean to me, but I just can’t keep trying to love someone you aren’t anymore. It’s just too destructive to me and I just can’t. I’m sorry, Harry. I hope you can understand, and I’ll be back whenever we’re ready.” 

Harry’s now shaking with sobs. Uncontrollable, messy, heartbreaking sobs. Her words were finally making sense to him. All of the arguments had finally made sense. She was arguing with him just so he would talk to her. He thought he could die with the amount of guilt squeezing his heart right now. 

“I love you, isn’t that enough?” He whispered. 

“I don’t think it is anymore, Harry.” Lifting herself up to her feet, she rolls her suitcase to stand behind her, taking a few small steps to be inches away from her Harry. “I’ll be back, H. I promise.” 

Placing a kiss to his wet cheek, he watched her walk away with a damp smile, and against his will, engrained the image of her leaving to his mind. 

This wasn’t how he imagined they would end. 

He didn’t even entertain the thought of them ever ending; but now he feels like he just lost every single atom of his being in the quickest of moments. 

—

It was hell. 

Harry could say with full conviction that it was absolute hell to be in that house, that big house on the beach, alone. 

Nothing felt right. From the second he woke up in the morning, to the minute he slid his legs under the covers at night, he almost felt nauseous because of how unusual he felt. How unusual everything felt. 

And it was all his fault. 

Picking up his phone, he goes to text his sweet girl again when he decides to scroll up to find the reprieve of gray amongst the sea of blue. 

Harry: Please text me when you land. 

Harry: I love you, please don’t forget that. 

Harry: Take all the time you need, Angel. I’m here if you need me. I’m so sorry.

Harry: I’ll be waiting for you when you get home. Just say the word and I’ll get you a ticket. 

Harry: Take your time though, please be safe. I love you.

Harry: Again

Y/N: just landed. kinda busy rn, talk to you later bug

Harry: That’s okay, be safe. ❤️

Y/N loved this message

Harry: I love you 

Y/N: yeah love you too h

Allowing his head to drop onto the back of the sofa, his arm fell limp onto his thigh, his green eyes scanned the interior of the living room, twinges of pain and guilt panting in his chest whenever he’d land his gaze on something that was proprietarily hers. 

Her growing orchids in a handmade pot that they’d painted together on their first Valentine’s Day as a couple. 

The godawful mirror she thrifted from a random corner store back in her hometown that she begged Harry to put up. 

A small canvas filled with tiny paintings of inside jokes and memorable dates that she gifted to him last Christmas. He allowed himself to trace over that painting for a little longer than the rest of the small things placed among their living room. 

11/29/19. The first time they met. 

1/16/21. When Harry asked her to be his girlfriend. 

4/07/21. The first time they said I love you. 

12/25/22. When Harry surprised Y/N on Christmas with a down payment on a house. The one he was now residing in, alone. 

A red convertible figurine, the car they first kissed in. 

A coffee cup and a teacup, symbolizing the first date they went on, where he learned she hates tea and preferred coffee, which led to an argument on whether coffee or tea was better. 

A small tulip, representing the first bouquet of flowers he ever bought her. 

And a small pearl ring, an exact replica of the promise ring Harry had given her on their 3 year anniversary. 

He didn’t even notice the streaks of tears beginning to run down his face until he felt a teardrop fall onto his inner wrist, making him look down. 

But as he canvassed the room once more, he perked up at the sight of a small snow globe that she brought him back from New York, and that was when he got an idea. He knew it was dramatic, and a bit of a stretch, but who said he wouldn’t go to extreme lengths to get his soulmate back?

Yeah, no one ever. 

To: Eliza

Harry: Hey Liz, got a sec?

—

Harry hated flying alone. 

Since he was a teenager and stepped foot on his first plane, he was anxious even being next to someone he barely knew even though his friends were two seats away. Though he would claim that he’s always been a bit anxious and just chalking it up to flight anxiety, he knew that the real reason why he hated flying alone was because he always feared that something bad would happen on the ground when he was in the air and vice versa, and that was always his greatest vice. 

His hands began to tremble nervously as he looked out the window of the airplane, seeing nothing but fluffy white on the exterior and the soft red light of the aircraft’s wings blinking every so often. His headphones were placed over his head, smushing his curls down flat onto his head, a mask covering the bottom half of his face. His hood was pulled up as well, trying to conceal himself as much as possible. He hadn’t brought much, just a little carry on and a small tote to shove under the seat in front of him. It was wishful thinking that he wouldn’t be there for a long while, but he brought the keys to his apartment in New York anyway. 

He kept his head hung in nausea, the speed of his shaking hands increasing tenfold. The pit in his stomach grew and he had to beg his own body to allow his eyes to not stray to the window next to him. Sure, he could close it, but he feared if it was too dark he would become more anxious than he was right now. The mask covering the bottom half of his face now felt constricting— as if he was being suffocated by the thin layer of fabric. The light douse of perfume that danced around the sunflower print of the mask couldn’t even distract him, and it only pained him more that his senses were fully encompassed by her. He bit down on his lip to distract himself by the whirling feeling of nausea that now swirled around in his throat, willing away the sick that begged to come out.

The rest of the flight was the same, his anxiety only decreasing when he allowed himself to take a small nap. However, when he woke up, his nerves had heightened when he flickered his gaze from the window to the screen in front of him, reading only 20 minutes until he was set to touch down. Grasping his phone from his hoodie pocket, he aligned it to his face then rolling his eyes when he remembered he had a mask on. Lowering his phone he typed in his password— Y/N’s birthday— and pulled up their messages again. 

Harry: Good morning baby. I love you. I hope you have a good day today!! 

Y/N: thanks h love you

He couldn’t lie and say that her being short with him didn’t hurt his feelings, because it did. He wasn’t going to avoid the fact, but that didn’t mean that he liked it regardless. He felt like a fool checking his phone so often, especially when he knew that she wouldn’t be making an effort to reach out first, but he could be hopeful, right? 

At least that’s what he’s telling himself. 

The plane landed safely, nerves rolling off of his back in waves and he was more than happy to leave his flight anxiety on the floor of the plane, relieved to not be miles high in the air. There was a lull that was obvious to Harry, and he felt himself switch to function in autopilot, waiting mindlessly to enter the aisle to retrieve his bag from the overhead compartment. 

The nippy New York air was the first thing to snap Harry out of his trance. Looking down at his phone, he felt a soft buzz and soon after felt his heart beat almost fast enough to eject from his chest. 

Y/N: saw this in a store earlier, thought of u

Y/N: Attachment: 1 Image 

Eliza: waiting near terminal b for you, lmk when you get outside 

Harry: I’m outside, can you see me?

Eliza: yep. be there in a sec

Swiping out of Y/N’s sisters messages, he went to click on Y/N’s before a black car stopped in front of him, averting his attention from his device to the car that just screeched to a halt. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he trudged forward and grabbed onto the door handle, prying it open and avoiding Eliza’s deathly stare. “Um- hiiii.” 

She scoffed. “Hi, H.” 

He throws his tote to his feet, awkwardly buckling himself in and turned in his seat, avoiding eye contact but making sure she knew that conversation was open if she’d wanted to make it. “How— um… How are you?”

Silence follows his words for a few seconds, making him heat up in embarrassment. “Good.” 

“Oh- that’s good… I, um— haven't seen y’in quite a while, Lizzy,” He says softly, guilt evident in his voice. “I missed you.” 

Eliza was basically Gemma’s best friend. They were attached at the hip the first time they met, bonding over being the eldest sisters, and shared secrets. Y/N and Harry’s family had always been interconnected, close with each other even if Y/N and Harry lacked that communication. 

They were basically soul tied in every sense of the phrase. 

“Yeah, I missed you too, H. But,” Eliza starts. “You’ve been a right dick to my sister.” 

“I know,” He whispers. 

“Do you? Fuck, H, my fucking baby sister came to me crying because of you. And you know how much I love you, truly, you know I do, but I love her more. So, I just have to ask,” She pauses, gnawing on her lip and clicking her blinker on to signal her turn. “What the hell happened?” 

“I,” He sniffs, trying to contain his emotions already begging to come out. “I don’t know.” 

Eliza snorts. “Bullshit.” 

“I— I really don’t, Lizzy. I guess I was really in m’head about… well, everything. I lo- love her so much,” Harry’s voice cracks, his facade shattering into more microscopic pieces than the most delicate sheet of glass ever could. 

“I know you do, H. That’s why this is so confusing to me. To Gems. And most importantly, to Y/N. What happened, Curly? How’d we lose you?” She begs, trying to get him to explain where he was mentally. She loved him as she would Y/N, which was the hardest part. It hurt her as much as it hurt him to confront him about the issue. 

“I don’t want her to hate me! Okay?” Harry sobs, chin falling to his chest in weakness. “I don’t want her t’hate me for being away all the time, and I’m so fucking scared. ‘M scared because the press is doing nothing but talking bad about me and I don’t know if I can equally protect her as much as she does me when this happens. When it happens t’me I jus’ ignore it, but I know she can’t do that. I know it, Lizzy, and so d’you.” 

“I know, H. I know.” She whispers. 

“I jus’ wanted to keep her as far away as I could so that if she did decide she didn’t want me anymore, it wouldn’t hurt as bad.” He murmurs so quietly, he himself even doubts if he said it out loud. 

Silence followed the rest of the car ride, the only sound filling the space of the vehicle being the soft splatter of rain on the glass windows and windshield, paired with the crackly static of the stereo. The sun even seemed to be hiding away, the sky dark with clouds, little to no light making an appearance to greet Harry’s arrival. 

Pulling up to her driveway, Eliza parked the car, keeping her ignition on so she could drive away after Harry got into the house. Turning to Harry, she chewed on her bottom lip as she traced his side profile with her eyes. “You need to tell her exactly what you told me. Word for word, Harry. You can’t keep her in the dark. She doesn’t even know I went to pick you up. So, just promise me that you’ll tell her exactly what you told me.” 

“I promise.” Harry’s voice cracked in a broken whisper, vocal cords thrumming against each other as if they were rusted. “Love you, Lizzy. Thank you.”

Stepping out of the car, he knocked on the door thrice, and tapped softly on the doorbell for good measure. His hands had gone cold with anxiousness, but he wrote it off as the stark cold weather of New York. 

“Harry? Oh my god, baby, get inside,” Y/N pulled him in immediately, pushing his thick puffer jacket off of him that was shiny with rainwater, hands coming up to pull his baby blue beanie from his hair, revealing his soft curls. They shared no words as she pulled him to the living room, where she sat the both of them down and covered the length of their torsos and legs with a big fluffy blanket. Y/N didn’t waste a second before she threw her legs over his thighs, grabbing his hands and rubbing over the cold and cracked red skin, trying to exude as much warmth from her own as much as she could. 

She’s always been warm. 

Her hands have always been graced with heat and more significantly, she always tended to carry around an aura as sweet as honey and as warm as a hug with her wherever she went. Bringing their hands up to his lips, he presses kisses all over the back of hers, kissing her knuckles and fingertips that moved erratically over his own. She could feel the dry chap of his lips on her hands and down to her wrists but she didn’t care. She didn’t mind one bit. She would rather commit the feeling of his lips on her hands to memory rather than not know what they felt like at all. 

“What’re you doing here, baby?” She asks, concern etched in her face as she lifts her head to look at him, her movements on his hands not staggering or slowing. 

“Came t’see you,” He whispers weakly. “Couldn’t bear it. I need t’see you, hold y’again… Fuck, do jus’ about anything to be near y’again.” 

Her heart twisted with the most intense emotion that she could only describe as heartbreak. “You— you got on a plane by yourself just to come see me?” 

“Would do jus’ about anything f’you, sweet girl. Of course I would go on a plane jus’ by myself if it meant I could hold you.” He admitted. He avoided eye contact with her, keeping his eyes trained on their conjoined hands that now lay stagnant on the soft fabric of the blanket. 

“Harry,” She whispers. “Why are you here, my love?” 

“I felt too guilty t’let you leave like that,” He says, gnawing on his bottom lip to will away the tears begging to escape. “I couldn’t let y’go without telling y’I loved you. And I didn’t…” He pauses, struggling for air as he over explained. “I didn’t even explain m’self. I didn’t tell you I loved you. I didn’t kiss y’back. I didn’t even tell y’to be safe.” 

He’s fully sobbing now, Y/N tracing his side profile with his eyes, jittering with fear and anxiety. “It’s okay, hey, baby, listen,” Grabbing his chin with the tips of her fingers, she turns his head to hers, resting his forehead atop of hers. “It’s okay. I forgive you. I just needed time to think and I didn’t want to lash out on you because I didn’t have time to. We’re okay, baby. I promise.” 

He shook his head while she spoke, tears falling on the fluff of the blanket with every movement. His eyes were clenched as if he was in pain, and uneven erratic breaths fell from his mouth. “Nonono. I should— should’ve listened to you. I did- didn’t mean t’treat y’like tha’,” Harry’s accent had gotten heavier with how much emotion he was feeling, stumbling over his words as if he was drunk. 

“And I should’ve explained myself more. It’s not your fault, H. Please baby, breathe,” She begged, tightening her grip on his hands as she pleaded with her nose slotted next to his, every whispered beg pushing her lips forward to lightly brush against his raw-bitten ones. “There, that’s it.” 

His breaths began to even out, just the slightest bit. His hands still shook dramatically, veins in his neck that once protruded from the force of his cries now retracting. “I’m sorry.” 

“Harry, stop apolog-“ 

“No. I have t’say this before I leave because if I don’t, I don’t think I ever will. I— I didn’t mean t’push y’away. I was trying to protect m’self but I didn’t see that it was hurting y’too. It wasn’t my intention, and now I realize it wasn’t the right thing t’do.” He sniffles, pulling back from her face to hold eye contact for the utmost emphasis on his words. 

“I tried to keep you far away because if you ended up resenting me for being away all the time it would hurt less if you decided to leave me. Paired with everything that’s being said in the media about m’right now, I tried t’keep y’as far away as I could so that if everything came crashing down on me, I would’ve had to cope with losing y’less than everything else. And I kept picking fights with y’so that if— or when y’got too fed up w’me, you’d leave me yourself instead of something else forcing y’to leave me. I think it was all subconscious, seeing how I freaked out on y’when y’told me you were leaving. I guess I didn’t really prepare myself for when it was really going t’happen. I’m really, really sorry, Angel. I really do hope y’can forgive me.” 

She’s silent. It scares him, he can’t lie. He takes her silence as an answer and pulls his hands from her grasp and moves her legs softly off of his thighs, standing up and brushing off his pants in an attempt to stall. She’s still mute, and he takes it as his cue to go. There’s still tears streaming down his face, but they’re silent. Like he doesn’t even want to acknowledge that they’re falling at all. 

“I love you.” He whispers, before turning and walking to the door. Placing his hand on the knob, he turns it, and his heart follows the motion with a sharp twist that he thinks he feels in his entire body. He’s gnawing in his lip to avoid breaking down in front of her, even though she’s arguably seen him at his worst and most vulnerable times. Opening the door, he’s greeted with the harsh cold air, biting at his skin so aggressively he feels like his tears have now frozen to his face. Bearing the pain, he forced himself to take the step out the doorway and onto the porch, on autopilot as he let his feet decide his motions. 

“Harry, wait,” Y/N pleaded, running out behind him, meeting him in the middle of the driveway in nothing but tiny shorts and a stolen crewneck of his that she'd haphazardly stuffed into her luggage. “I love you. I love you more than I could probably ever explain, and I— I just need you to know that. If you’re done with me or done with this, that’s okay, I just need you to know that I love you.” 

“I love you. Always.” He whispers, lips trembling with sadness. 

“You know I always will, right?” She asks, placing a warm hand onto his wet and cold cheek.

“I know, baby. I do.” He says. 

“I’m here whenever you want me. I promise.” She pleads, coming up to reach his lips, placing a soft kiss to his cold ones. 

“Come home, please.” 

“Always, H. I’ll always come right back home to you.”

[gyuzgrl]

not-so-secret glances ||bsk||

Summary- Seungkwan catches you staring at his hands and decides to have a little fun.

based on an anon req- hope you liked this !! pt.2

You loved nights like these- tucked away in bed, book in hand with your boyfriend beside you, doing his own thing. The domesticity of laying together in comfortable silence made your heart swell. Seungkwan could be your forever. You hoped one day, he would.

While you read, the soft noises of Seungkwan's phone caught your attention. He was playing Kart Rider. Cute. You peaked over to glance at his progress, but something else seemed to have caught your eye. His fingers.

How he moved them, so deftly across the screen, had you squirming. You squeezed your thighs together, hoping to dull the ache between your legs, and tore your gaze away, returning to your book. About a minute later, however, your eyes found their way back to his hands.

The book in your lap was now long forgotten, lying face down. Your eyes scanned over each digit, noting the pale skin that let his veins peak through just right. Each long, slender finger, had you drooling. They'd reach so deep within you- touch the spots you never could.

You didn't even realise how long you'd been staring for, until a gravely voice breaks you out of your trance.

"I can see you y'know," His eyes remain on the screen in front of him, and he continues, "if you're gonna stare, at least make it less obvious, doll"

Your eyes snap back to the shamelessly discarded book on your lap, and you mumble "I'm not- I wasn't staring"

"hm? so those weren't your eyes burning holes into my phone?"

"I don't know what you're talking about"

Oh you have his attention now.

Seungkwan turns to face you, clicking his phone off as a crease sets in his brow.

"you don't know what I'm talking about, baby? are you sure?"

You nod, unable to meet his gaze.

"liar," he tuts, "I know you were looki-"

"I- I wasn't!"

Seungkwan shoots you a warning glare, and your mouth seals shut. He tosses his phone aside, pulling you under him as he grabs your face.

"do you really wanna lie to me, sweetheart?"

The icy tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine. Part of you wants to be a brat, continue lying, but you know better. Your boyfriend's got a bit of a mean streak, and you have no intention of pushing him today. You shake your head, wide eyes staring up into his.

"good. now tell me, what were you staring at so intently, hm?"

You look away, gulping thickly at the saliva in your throat. It's quiet for a moment. Seungkwan's jaw ticks, its muscles flexing at your lack of response. He tugs your face closer, lowering his own, and whispers against your lips- "oh no, baby you don't get to keep quiet today,"

"you either tell me and I give you a reward, or you keep your mouth shut and I leave you high and dry- don't think I haven't noticed how you've kept your thighs pressed together,"

"h-hands, I was looking at your hands," you whimper urgently, "please don't be mean kwannie"

"mmm that depends, baby- can you be good? can you be a good girl for me?"

"yes-" your voice comes out embarrassingly breathy, "so good for you"

Seungkwan's hand cups your face, finally connecting your lips to his. It's slow and needy and painfully desperate. You can't help the way your hands pull him closer, fisting his shirt, tugging his hair.

His tongue licks into you, exploring the cavern of your mouth with such precision, you find it hard to keep up. Already struggling to breathe, you feel your senses heighten when he trails a hand down to your clit, slipping under your panties.

"kw-kwannie wai-" you gasp, "oh my god"

His fingers circle your clit, toying around with the sensitive bud while you moan into his mouth. It's hard to focus with him everywhere.

Just as you think he can't push you further, Seungkwan tugs at your bottom lip, nipping it with his teeth as he pulls away ever so slightly. It's a simple act- kiss, bite, pull- but god it has your brain fuzzing over.

You moan, hips bucking into his hand, and he takes full advantage by slipping a long digit into your sopping heat.

"oh"

Your lips hang open, and he grins, pulling away.

"you gonna cum, sweetheart? hm? gonna cum like this?"

A pathetic whimper slips past your lips, "please 'm'so close". Seungkwan grins.

"I know, baby- but you can wait, can't you? you can be good for kwannie, yeah?"

You clench around his finger, whimpering as you nod. Anything for Seungkwan. Anything.

The stretch of your walls isn't much, but it burns when you have to hold yourself back while his fingers continue their movement. His thumb pushes down on your clit and you let out a sob, tears welling in your eyes.

"aw," he coos, a faux pout gracing his features "don't cry pretty- all you have to do is ask,"

"please,"

"you can do better than that, doll, c'mon"

"kwannie please it hurts- I've been good, I've been- fuck- so good"

"have you? little liar-"

"m'sorry-" you sob, "m'sorry, sorry sorry sorr-"

Seungkwan gives in to your desperate pleas, shoving the digit deeper into you, and you cry out.

"oh baby, I know- I know, let go for me, kay? that's it pretty, just like- fuck just like that"

You tremble under the weight of your orgasm, a string of moans leaving your parted lips. Seungkwan eases you through it, whispering quiet praise into your ears before collecting your arousal with his fingers and popping them into his mouth.

He groans.

"so fucking sweet-"

Before you can process his words, he pushes his lips back onto yours, and you can taste yourself on his tongue.

Breaths escape you too fast for your liking, and you find yourself pulling away for air within seconds.

"colour?" he asks so sweetly you almost forget how mean he was being.

"green"

Seungkwan slots his thigh between your legs, pushing up until your cunt presses flush against his hard muscle. "you know what to do, doll"

A whine escapes you and he pushes harder, "be good and I'll give you a reward, hm? how's that?". You moan, grinding up against his thigh while your hands roam his back, urgently tugging at his clothes.

"so needy today," he says, amused. His pretty lips curl up into a sly smirk and you feel your hole flutter around nothing. "gettin' yourself off on my thigh like a good little girl"

"kwanniee-" Your voice draws out, extending into an 'uh' sound as your poor clit tugs against his skin. Your hips stutter momentarily and his eyes darken, narrowing at you.

"didn't tell you to stop." A hand makes its way up to your neck, and he squeezes, just enough to get you feeling light-headed. The weight of his hand against your throat has you drooling, and as if on cue, your body begins moving on its own- as if under some sort of spell.

"that's it, sweetheart,"

All you can do is moan in response, one hand clutching his wrist as he chokes you. Your body feels electric under his touch, skin on edge with every moment of contact. You know he sees it too with the way his pants tighten at your cries.

"kwa-nnie- m'close- can I cum? please?"

Your hips rut against his thigh, increasing in speed, and your eyes flutter closed. A sharp squeeze against your throat coaxes them open and Seungkwan licks his lips- "go ahead, doll"

A sob echoes through the room, followed by chants of his name, over and over, until he shuts you up with a passionate kiss. Your sounds, although muffled by his tongue in your throat, fill up the space. It was embarrassing almost, how he made you sing under his touch.

Your clit ached. It hurt how sensitive you were.

"so proud of my girl," he coos, pulling away, "you can gimme another, can't you, baby? on my tongue?"

Ignoring the electricity shooting up your body despite the lack of stimulation, you nod, breath hitching as he crawls down your body, leaving a trail of harsh purple bruises on his way to your cunt.

"you've got the prettiest pussy I've ever seen, y'know that?" He breaks off into a loud groan that reverberates against your cunt as his tongue latches itself onto your clit. You jump at the contact, almost losing yourself once again.

Licking you open, Seungkwan brings his hands to your inner thighs, splaying them open to get better access to your clit. He pulls the hood of your clit back with his thumb and traces around it with the tip of his tongue. The action sends you reeling. Your already-sensitive clit throbs under his tongue, you're certain he can feel it too when he pulls back, looking up at you.

"baby," he pouts, "you still sensitive?"

You nod.

"good."

Before you can even breathe, Seungkwan attacks your clit with full gusto- tongue lapping precisely at the throbbing nub as he inhaled your scent. You cry out and your hands tremble as they reach for his hair, fervently threading through his dark locks- whether to pull him closer or shove him away, you aren't sure.

Within moments you feel your orgasm build, yet again, a familiar coil tightening deep in your belly. Trembling limbs threaten to snap shut against Seungkwan's face, but his arms hold them in place, a low warning grunted against your clit.

"easy"

You knew better than to disobey. Your boyfriend wasn't above edging, teasing, anything, honestly. With your orgasm so close, you were on your best behaviour for him.

"m'sorry-" you gasped, tugging on his hair harder, "m'sorry- kwannie"

All he does is groan in response, feeling how you squirm under him. Must be close.

Seungkwan pushes harder with his tongue, spreading you wider, and flicks at your clit- this is your undoing.

Hot liquid coats his mouth, his chin, and your chest heaves like you've just run a marathon. Stars bloom behind your eyes. Your body feels like a live wire.

To tease just a little, he places a kiss on your clit- which you gasp and jolt away from- before crawling back up to you and pushing his lips against yours.

"I love you"

"mm I love you too kwannie- feel so good right now" You mumble, pulling him closer into a tight embrace.

"let's get you cleaned up, okay sweetheart?"

[melon-fodder]

tw: unhealthy obsession, implied non-con

As he aged, Shinsou never stopped idolizing Aizawa. Even after he stopped training with him, even after he graduated UA, even after he started working as a pro. No matter how much he did for himself, how many villains he took down with his quirk and weapons, Shinsou still credits Aizawa. How could he not?

He owes Aizawa everything, wouldn’t be the hero—the man he is today—if it weren’t for him.

And they’re still close. They meet for lunch or coffee or whatever, share dry anecdotes and reminisce. Then Shinsou will disappear for a few weeks, months, undercover and unreachable until he surfaces once again with a couple new scars, both mental and physical, added to his collection.

Aizawa watches the change happen, watches the eyes of his former student grow shadowed and dull, watches the way his vigilance starts to resemble something closer to paranoia, watches as he slowly slips into the darkness that only comes with undercover hero work.

He’s experienced it himself, back when he was Shinsou’s age. Played pretty much the same role. Aizawa was always the secret weapon, unassuming in appearance yet the most pivotal piece of the game, just like Shinsou is. Was.

Cause now he’s taking a break. An official leave of absence suggested by the commission (and by his friends) after a particularly heinous mission. People died. People were tortured.

And Shinsou is different because of it. It’s changed him. Aged him.

Aizawa still sees the outline of that angry, determined teenager he met nearly a decade ago, and that’s why he can’t just stand by and let his former mentee rot away in an apartment. Shinsou needs support. He needs stability. He needs to be taken care of for at least a little while.

Neither of them actually say what this is about. Aizawa knows and Shinsou knows, and that’s what matters.

Well, that and you.

You’ve been with Shouta for a couple years now, have met Shinsou on multiple occasions, talked and laughed and got to know him. You’ve always liked him, and honestly, the way he admires your partner is adorable.

So, of course you’re okay with helping him. You could never say no to that.

Except time passes and things get… strange.

You and Shouta have noticed your houseguest exhibiting some troubling behavior. It seems harmless at first. Helpful, in fact. He helps with dinner and cleans dishes, does his own laundry.

And then he starts doing your laundry too. And Shouta’s. You find him in your bedroom one day folding your clothes, try to stifle the alarm bells that start ringing in the back of your head.

He’s on the couch one day wearing one of Shouta’s shirts, smells like the shampoo your partner uses.

Little things start to go missing. A piece of jewelry. Shouta’s deodorant. A pair of his boxers. A pair of your panties.

Neither you or your partner want to say it out loud, but you’ve shared glances. You know he sees it. Knows he feels it—Shinsou’s presence, deceptively warm and calm as it looms closer and closer until you start losing time. Pieces of the day completely wiped from your memory. Nothing there but a pocket of blank space.

Something is very wrong. Shinsou starts smiling more, wide and lopsided. It’s genuine, but it’s sharp. Predatory.

Because he’s enjoying this, watching as you and Aizawa, his two favorite people in the world, try to make sense of what is happening. Where did that book go? What happened to your childhood teddy bear?

And why—how are the cotton panties you’re wearing… suddenly soaked with cum?

[rottenpumpkin13]

So I got diagnosed with PTSD and whenever there’s a problem in my life, my immediate urge is to project it onto my favorite characters. Now, that being said, assuming that they DO have PTSD from the war and other traumas, do AGZSC have flashbacks, and if they do, what do they look like?

I hope I did this concept justice 💚 wishing you well

• Genesis’ PTSD, years after he's been doused with a cure, begins with the itch beneath his skin. No matter how hard he scrubs, no matter how dry the scarring is, he feels it raw and sticky beneath the hot leather. He can feel the burning in his muscle, resurfacing to his skin like it’s breaking apart, like it’s rotting again. The smell of decay, of something foul and wrong, floods his senses even though the air is clean. His hands tremble, fingers tracing invisible cracks on his face, terrified they’ll split open. The fear of the degradation gnaws at him constantly, fearing that the goddess revoked her gift, fearing that one day he'll start degrading all over again.

• Sephiroth’s PTSD smells like antiseptic, that sharp, clean scent that coats the inside of his nose, no matter where he is, no matter how hard he fills his environment with lavender, vanilla and other desperate attempts to stifle the phantom horror. He can smell it everywhere he goes, and initially believed his mind was failing him.

He can be working in his office or peacefully reading a book in his bedroom when the hum of lab equipment buzzes in his ear, faint but clear. Sometimes it's the dull click of needles being prepared, and Sephiroth flinches.

He can be laying in bed when the familiar feel of restraints scratches his wrist, phantom sensations that won't let him rest.

• Cloud’s PTSD is heat—scalding, unbearable heat. The fire burns it's brightest when he's overheated, roaring in his ears, licking at his skin, smoke filling his lungs as the villagers' screams overtake his hearing.

He smells the burning wood, the burning flesh, his mother’s voice lost somewhere in the flames that swallow everything in its wake.

And then he sees him, accompanied by a crack of green pulling his consciousness back to the moment he saw that Sephiroth for the first time—not Sephiroth the hero, but Sephiroth the embodiment of everything Cloud would lose.

• Zack’s PTSD is the weight of Angeal’s sword in his hand he feels in the weeks following his mentor's death. It's the body he doesn't want to be in, the flesh that grips the bones Angeal should have broken when he killed him, not the other way around. When when the sword is clung to his back, he can feel the weight of it in his hands, dragging him down, forcing him to press his knees to the dirty ground again and face Angeal's dying body.

• Angeal’s PTSD wakes him up in the middle of the night and pins his eyes open with memories that won't sleep. His apartment is always silent, just like he remembered the house was that night—oh the trivial details the mind picks up. But it always starts with the silence before the screams hit. He can hear his mother's cries, raw and desperate, tear through the quiet. His mother’s wails are like a knife dragging across his chest. He feels the emptiness of that house, the coldness of the room after the life has drained from it. His father had just passed, and once again, just like when he was a boy, Angeal is suffocated beneath his blanket, eyes wide open.

[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Content Warnings: tiny whump, faerie whump, recovery, foot injury, broken bones, rescue/caretaking perceived as capture by whumpee, accidental whump

----

The human moves Shae's shoebox bed into the living room, where he sets it on the coffee table. It's warmer in here, a fire going in the fireplace nearly every minute the human is home. Like before, food and water are left out on the table for Shae to access if he needs.

Shae is cold and weak from blood loss, and the pain and stress have not been kind to his thoughts. He can't help worrying about why he is here or what will happen next. Some days he drags himself out of bed to limp down a staircase of stacked books and have some food and water, but more often than not the human comes home to find it untouched, and has to coax the faerie into eating and drinking.

Pain is constant, sometimes sharp, sometimes dull. The worst is when the human cleans and rebandages his foot or checks on his shoulder. But this is always followed by a dropper of medicine mixed with water, and that at least brings some relief. Shae soon learns that any time the pain gets to be too much and he starts groaning, the human will appear with more medicine, more relief. He never turns it away, welcoming the numbing feeling and the sleep that follows so he can escape his fears.

As he heals, though, Shae gets restless. He gets up more often, takes more of the food and water, wanders more of the table. He never tries to get down, doesn't even think about it. Not when he still walks with a limp and can barely use one of his arms. But he takes full advantage of all the moments the human isn't home to learn his surroundings better in case he needs to flee in a hurry.

One morning Shae is sitting on the table eating while the human, who has been home all day today, works outside. Eventually the man returns, removes his boots, coat and hat and makes his way over to check on Shae. "You look better today," he remarks.

Shae's stomach drops; he should have tried harder to look unwell. He avoids the man's gaze by looking down at the piece of fruit in his hands.

"How about a change of scenery?" He holds his hand out. It seems safest to just go along with him. Resisting will only get him hurt. So Shae sits in his hand and allows the man to lift him and carry him from the room.

He brings the faerie into the kitchen and sets him on the windowsill, where he can see outside into the yard and the woods beyond it. Cold seeps in through the glass, but the human offers Shae a large dishcloth to wrap around himself like a blanket. He mumbles thank you, which puts a smile on the human's face. Maybe I'm worth more if I can talk, Shae thinks glumly.

The man gets to work cooking something. Shae watches him, but turns often to look outside again. It even looks cold, the ground dry and cracked, a wind rustling the bare trees. Shae shivers and pulls the towel tighter around himself. At least he isn't out there. If the human hadn't found him that first day, he probably wouldn't have made it long...

By the time the man cooks and eats his meal, Shae is curled up, bundled head to toe in the blanket, dozing off a little. Used to the man's movements by now, he barely notices him enter the kitchen and start doing dishes.

And then, a hand closes around the towel, bunching it up in a fist and in the process, enveloping Shae within it. He feels himself being lifted from the windowsill and moved. Suddenly a surge of water hits his back, thoroughly soaking both the towel and Shae, who coughs and sputters. His shouts are drowned out by the roar of the water and when he tries to struggle, the hand's grip tightens. A finger presses against his shoulder and Shae whines and tries to squirm away from it, with no luck.

From there it only gets worse. The hand gripping the towel with Shae in it plunges into hot, soapy water. Shae barely holds onto consciousness, his body growing heavy, his vision blurring. Then all at once he's pulled back up, squeezed again, pressed into a hard surface and dragged over it in circles...pulled away only to be slammed belly-first onto the edge of the plate. Shae doubles over, gasping for air as the plate turns in the man's hands, cleaned by the soapy towel.

Back under the rushing faucet, squeezed, back into the hot water, squeezed, shoved into whatever the cloth is cleaning. Shae continues crying out for help through his coughs and gasps, but his cries grow weaker every time. Eventually he just curls in on himself and tries to shield his existing injuries from further harm.

Fortunately, there aren't that many dishes, and he is only made to endure this a few more times. The man rinses out the towel, squeezes one final time, and shakes it open over the sink. Shae comes tumbling out and lands on his back with a thud, arms splayed out on either side of him. He stares blearily up at the lights a moment before turning onto his side to cough up more water. A shadow falls over him as the human finally sees him there.

"Oh, shit," he hears the man mutter. "How did you -" he holds up the towel and it dawns on him what happened. "Oh my god...I'm so sorry, I forgot you were there," he says, sounding quite upset about it. "I'm sorry, buddy, I swear it was an accident...come here..." His fingers pluck Shae up from inside the sink. With his other hand he grabs a fresh, dry towel and holds it in his open palm, setting the trembling faerie into it and bundling him up.

Shae doesn't bother struggling. He continues catching his breath while the human brings him back to the living room and sets the towel on the table, opening it back up with Shae lying in the middle of it. "Sorry," he says again, "I hope I didn't hurt you too bad..."

His fingers move over the tiny faerie, carefully examining him for injury. Shae's foot will need rebandaged, his shoulder re-iced, but he thinks he is fine...until he tries to sit up and a pang shoots through his stomach. He drops back with a gasp and a whimpered ow, ow, ow, an arm wrapped around his belly.

"What's this?" The human eases Shae's arm away and draws in a breath. "Oof...you have some bad bruising here..." His fingertip grazes over Shae's skin. "I don't think anything is broken..."

"Don't hurt m-me," is all Shae can think to say, a pointless plea but one he makes all the same.

The man's face saddens. "I'm not going to hurt you. I didn't mean to hurt you...I'll make it right, okay?"

Shae is suddenly so tired, his defenses crumbling. Tears fill his eyes. He wants to believe the human, he wants to feel safe, not in a constant state of fight or flight, pain or numbness, terror or apathy. Everything hurts, his heart won't rest, his breathing won't even. Shae lies back and lets the human go through the now familiar motions of treating him, the routine now including his aching stomach. When he is finished, the man offers him some food, which Shae declines, though he takes some sips of water just to clear the taste of dish soap from his mouth.

"I'm sorry," the man repeats every so often. He occasionally rubs Shae's back or pets his hair with his thumb, attempts to soothe him that do little to help anymore. Eventually he settles Shae back into bed under plenty of soft layers and leaves him alone. The room goes dark except for the fire. Shae curls up on his side and stares at it until his eyes droop.

I'm never getting out of here...

[honeytonedhottie]

HONEYS IT GIRL MAGAZINE march edition⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the march catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion. a magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

MUST HAVE FASHION ITEMS ;

for march/spring fashion in general its so fun to dress like a winx doll or a fairy. i feel magical in flowy material that shimmers, adorable mini skirts and accessories like gold bangles and waist chains.

when im going shopping, im mainly buying clothes for hot girl summer bcuz im just so excited and can't wait. plus i wanna be prepared yk? some patterns that i've noticed in my shopping patterns are that im buying lots of camisoles and sleeveless shirts.

also i've been looking for cute shorts and low waisted jeans. im looking for cute things to embroider onto the jeans and shorts to personalize them and make them feel more "summery".

something that i started was a FASHION BINDER. i followed @prissygrlsorority's idea for a fashion binder and started my own and so far im having SUCH an amazing time. i want to take time and perfect my binder but so far its going well ✨

spring traditionally has LOTS of pastel colors so formulate a color scheme based on pastel colors that look good on you. some rly good examples for color scheme this spring include

something to note for spring fashion specifically is to not look for colors that are specifically dark or bland, the idea behind spring fashion is giving fresh flowerbed, something REFRESHING.

FOR THE BLOG ;

i've been working this month on a larger project that i think you guys would really enjoy and find useful. it'll be released on the first of march and i'll announce it exactly a week before.

additionally during the month of march i expanded my blog by setting up a membership system and facilitating a way for u guys to tip my work and support my blog. i've also offered my services if u might want them.

for the month of april u can expect a variety of content but i wanted to get input from you guys on what you'd like to see the most so i'll be releasing a poll for april content later today.

HOT GIRL SUMMER PREP ;

look, ik its only march but hot girl summer is right around the corner so here are some ways that you can prepare yourself for the summer, so that you can be your most glowy, confident, and radiant self ✨

you can moisturize ur skin with the most sweet smelling and extravagant body butters and creams, but if ur skin is dull and dead you won't get that GLOW that u so desperately seek

for this i recommend juicing (i'll get more into health in the wellness girlies section) and start dry brushing to promote blood circulation and remove dead skin cells from ur body, leaving ur skin feeling baby smooth. also i recommend using a body scrub 2-3x a week depending on the sensitivity of your skin.

if u liked this hot girl summer prep section u can continue reading right one of my recent posts where i went more in depth about how u can prepare for ur hot girl summer.

OH HOW I ADORE BEING A WOMAN ;

this months catalog was in collaboration with @pastel-charm-14 and this section of the magazine was written by her ✨🫶🏽

march brings more than just the promise of spring, it's also a time to celebrate the amazing women who've shaped history. as women's history month rolls around, we can't help but reflect on what it means to be a part of this incredible legacy.

think about those bold suffragettes who fought tooth and nail for our right to vote. they weren't just distant figures in history books; they were real women with fire in their hearts and determination in their eyes. and what about the everyday heroes—the moms, sisters, and friends who quietly make the world a better place?

they might not be famous, but they have such an incredible impact. so here's to us—here's to the laughs, the tears, and everything in between. here's to celebrating our history, our struggles, and our triumphs—because they're what make us who we are.

cheers to being women, and cheers to the journey ahead. being a woman isn't always easy, but i know wouldn't have it any other way.

FOR THE WELLNESS GIRLIES ;

something that has come to my attention is that i drink a lot of fluids early in the morning. i've known that it was good to drink fluids in the morning, specifically water, but i wanted to have an in depth explanation of why it was good. so i googled it ofc.

ur body is dehydrated while u sleep so when u drink water first thing in the morning it helps ur body to recover from the temporary dehydration.

your body absorbs fluids faster in the morning on an empty stomach. so my routine has been, once i wake up to have an 8 oz cup of water, but water isnt the only thing that i drink in the morning.

bcuz fluids are so quickly and efficiently absorbed in ur body in the morning, you can drink other healthy drinks and reap the benefits. some things that i drink in the morning are ;

chlorophyll - this makes me feel so clean, it boosts red blood cells production and helps with glowy skin and weight loss. plus after i drink it i feel so clean, like a fresh out of the shower feeling

ginger shots - these are pretty lethal but they r so good for you. ginger shots are rly good for digestion issues and bloating, and it also boosts ur immunity which is always good

kombuchas - this one i dont drink on an empty stomach, but drinking kombucha in the morning though rly helps with bloating and reduces inflammation, leaving me looking snatched

FUN QUIZZES, VIDEO ESSAYS, RECIPES AND GAMES ;

what kind of flirt are you? - seventeen magazine

whats ur girl power anthem? - seventeen magazine

what kind of dessert are you? - queendom

FOOD FOR THOUGHT ;

this is the video that im going to be thinking about in order to write this section and here's what i thought about it.

ok so the conflict is unique but personally if i was the husband i wouldn't be mad bcuz its not like the wife was IN the bed with the brother in law 😭 she just said that he could use it cuz he was so sleepy. i think that what she did was nice and the husband could've communicated that he was uncomfortable in a better way then to get angry. but in that same breath the wife knows how strongly her husband feels about things like this so maybe she could've been more considerate. like bring out a pillow and some blankets for the brother in law and let him rest on the couch or whatever 💀.

if u thought differently or if u wanna elaborate on that and have more of a discussion feel free to share ur own opinions and thoughts in the comment section.

[sirjaketkiszka]

Silver Springs: Chapter One

Early20s!Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

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I know I could have loved you but you would not let me…

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

Josh breaks some news when he invites you to watch the band practice.

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Word count: 4,427

Warnings: extremely light cursing, dialogue-heavy, and poor writing.

Disclaimer: apologies for any potential spelling errors or grammar mistakes.

Silver Springs Masterpost

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The minutes seem to pass by excruciatingly slow, and the dull sound of ticking captures your full attention. Resting your chin on your open palm, your eyes focus on the wall-mounted clock's second hand passing over the minute lines. The voice of your professor has been completely drowned out at this point, the low vibrations of his voice just barely reaching your ears. Just as expected, once the clock indicates 2:30 pm, students lift from their seats and gather their belongings.

The sound of rustling, backpacks zipping up, and chairs shoved back under desks pulls your attention away from the clock, your dry eyes blinking a couple of times from your previous zoning out. Looking to your left, Josh shoves his textbook back into his bag, silently cursing when it won’t fit all the way. Following suit, you grab your textbook, laptop, and notepad off of the tabletop and neatly place them in your book bag.

“I don’t know how you keep yours so organized,” Josh frustratingly huffs, forcefully zipping up his bag, “There’re too many things to carry.” He groans, standing up and struggling to sling the cross-body strap of his bag over his head.

“I think it’s a you problem, Josh,” You chuckle, zipping up your bag, pulling the strap over your shoulder, and standing from your seat. The lecture room is nearly empty now with only a handful of students, yourself and Josh included, scattered about. Without saying a word, Josh follows behind you as you both wave goodbye to your professor, exit the room, and enter the large hallway where fellow students scatter about, “You’d think you’d be better at organizing since it’s basically the end of the year,” You tease, smirking at him.

“Yeah, well, I’m not,” He rolls his eyes, speeding up slightly to walk in front of you. Spinning around, he walks backward and faces you, completely disregarding anyone behind him. You can’t help but glance over his shoulder every once in a while to make sure he doesn’t bump into anyone, “So, you coming over to my place to watch band practice?” He asks, an eager smile pulling at his lips.

“Do I have a choice?” You question.

“Not really, because-”

“Because you drove here,” You finish his sentence, “Yep, I figured as much.”

“Oh, come on,” He begins, but nudges someone on accident and silently apologizes, taking that as his cue to walk beside you again, “It’ll be fun! You never watch us practice anymore.” He mocks a whine.

“Okay, okay, fine,” You say, looking around nervously at the surrounding students who are also making their way to the hall’s exit, “Um, will…” You clear your throat and frown at the stupid question, but ask anyway, “Will Jake be there?”

“Well, I mean…”

“Yeah, I know, stupid question,” You groan, squeezing your eyes shut for a moment.

“I’ll never understand your distaste for him,” Josh chuckles and shakes his head as he opens the hall’s exit door, holding it open for you to cross the threshold. When you step outside, the late spring, and early summer heat washes over your body, the blistering sun piercing your cool skin.

“That’s because he’s your twin,” You explain, the both of you walking toward the university’s parking lot, “And it’s not just me who dislikes him, trust me, the feeling is very mutual.”

And you are very correct when you say that. Of course, Josh doesn’t understand the extent of the mutual disliking, but he knows of it. Ever since you and Josh became friends, nearly seven years ago as freshmen in high school, you and Jake have never seen eye-to-eye. Personally? You think he’s full of himself, arrogant, and way too cocky for his own good. To everyone else, though, he’s apparently kind, understanding, and passionate, whatever that means.

“Well, I’m trusting you to behave tonight,” Josh half-teases and comes to a stop when you reach his car; an old, beat-up truck.

“I always do,” You argue, making your way to the passenger side as he unlocks the doors, “It’s him you should worry about,” You huff out, plopping into the passenger seat and immediately getting uncomfortable by the gathered heat. The inside of the truck is stuffy, and the unbearable warmth blankets your skin, suffocating you.

As soon as he starts the car, the aged engine sputters and roars to life causing a loud purr to vibrate the cabin and bed of the truck. Without missing a beat, you both immediately roll the windows down due to the lack of air conditioning.

“You’re probably right about that,” He admits, backing out of the parking spot and nearly zooming out of the parking lot as he drives in the direction of his family home. The drive is only thirty minutes; our hair collectively wisping in the strong wind current through your cracked windows. Previous layers of sweat dry in the semi-cool breeze, and views of tall trees blur in your peripheral. The music on the radio is low, but Josh talks the entire time; about his day, your shared classes, and where the band is performing next.

“Do you think you’ll be touring soon?” You ask, your voice slightly raised to battle the loud current of air.

“Maybe not on our own, but hopefully as openers,” He responds in an equally loud voice, his eyes concentrated on the road ahead of him. You simply nod, your gaze slowly drifting to look outside the passenger window. The journey to his house entails views of crop fields and thick forests. It doesn’t take long before you turn into a residential area, indicating your very soon arrival.

Dread, or nerves, you’re not entirely sure, wrap around your torso when the Kiszka house comes into view. Josh pulls up next to the curb in front of his house and puts the car in park, prompting the both of you to roll your windows up before shutting off the engine. You quickly exit the vehicle before the heat creeps back in, slamming the heavy door shut behind you, and Josh following closely behind.

The garage is already open, signaling to Josh that his brothers are patiently waiting for him. You hang back slightly, allowing Josh to walk ahead of you.

“Hey, guys,” Josh greets once you’re at the top of the driveway, two of the band members slowly coming into your view, “Y/n is going to be joining us today.” He informs them while entering the garage and setting his bag down on the old, discolored couch. You follow behind him, flashing a nervous smile to Sam and Danny, who are already smiling at you.

Sam and Danny are still seniors in high school, although they’ll be graduating next week, and they’re always happy to see you. Danny subconsciously fixes his frizzy hair, his meek smile lingering on you, making you chuckle to yourself. Sam, on the other hand, is full-on smirking at you and making his way over as you take a seat on the couch.

“So,” He begins, running a hand through his long hair, “you finally came to see me, huh?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Sam, for the hundredth time, I am too old for you,” You laugh, knowing he’s not serious, but rather keeping up the running joke that he has a crush on you. A joke that started when he was much younger, and more specifically when you and Josh first became friends. Jake was the one who made the joke to tease him when you started coming over a lot more. Speaking of which, where is Jake?

“Worth a shot,” He shrugs, turning on his heel and walking back to his keyboard, residing on its stand to the left of the room.

“What made you come today?” Danny finally asks from behind his drum kit, his hands fiddling with the drumsticks as he speaks.

“Well,” You glare at Josh, who’s actively avoiding eye contact by staring at the ceiling, “I didn’t have much of a choice, but I’m happy to be here.” You conclude, smiling at Danny, not wanting to sound too miserable about watching them practice. You’ve watched them before, and they are damn good, but it’s more so… the Jake of it all that makes you avoid it. To be fair, Jake has never warmed up to the idea of you attending practices either. Something about you being too distracting for the band? You couldn’t remember, but it was enough to make you stop going altogether.

“I figured she was overdue for a practice,” Josh explains to Danny, making him nod in agreement, “And I’d argue that we’ve gotten much better since the last time you watched us,” He pauses, “What? Two months ago?” He asks. That was around the time you stopped coming over unless it was to hang out with Josh.

“Yeah, that’s about right,” You answer, sighing. Part of you felt guilty for avoiding band practices for so long, after all, you should be supporting your best friend. Another part of you knew it was for the best, especially since the reason just walked into the garage.

“Jake! Look who’s here,” Josh says happily, holding his arms out to present you to Jake, like it was a good thing you were there. When he looks at you, his face is straight but his eyes are pained? Disgusted? Annoyed? He’s wearing his usual get-up; a self cut-up graphic tee, a pair of jeans that fit just right, and Chelsea boots that somehow work well with the outfit. His shoulder-length hair is slightly ruffled, signaling that he’s been running his hands through his hair; something he does when he’s stressed, not that you cared.

“Nice,” Jake mumbles, his eyes sweeping over your seated position, making you feel small. You hated that he could do that; make a person feel small with just a single look. With his eyes leaving yours, he picks up his plugged-in acoustic guitar and slings the strap over his shoulder, “Ready?” He asks, wasting no time and a little annoyed, looking at the other band members.

You turn to Josh, who gives you a comforting smile, to which you return an unsure one. You watch as he leaves your side, walks to the mic stand, and takes his place between his brothers– Sam to his right and Jake to his left.

Collectively, Josh and Jake turn on their respective amps, causing a small amount of feedback to fill the garage. Jake plucks his strings as Sam plays a few notes on the keys, checking the volume of the speakers while Josh mumbles unintelligible words into the mic. The floor beneath you gently trembles, carrying the sound of the speakers to your planted feet. You smile eagerly, your hands fidgeting in your lap, patiently waiting for them to begin.

“Flower Power?” Josh asks into the mic, looking around at his bandmates. They all nod, readying themselves, “1…2…3…” He whispers into the mic, looking at Jake. As on cue, Jake begins strumming the strings of his guitar, and a beautiful tune hits all corners of the small garage. It’s a tune you’re very familiar with, one you’ve heard since they started playing together, but it never loses its beauty.

Simultaneously, Sam fluidly moves his fingers above the keys, and it hardly looks like it takes effort to create such an alluring melody. Danny joins in with the pounding of his drums which immediately travels through your feet and shakes your core. Last to come in, or the best for last as he says, is Josh, whose smooth voice sounds equally unique as it is nostalgic.

“She is a lady, comes from all around,” He begins singing, sending you a wink as he does so, making you smile and shake your head. Your eyes scan the band; Sam mouths along to the tune as he plays, and Danny’s mouth mimics a ticking sound, while Jake’s body rocks back and forth with every strum and pluck of string. Lingering on Jake, you watch as his eyes absentmindedly close as he strums, his eyebrows knitting in concentration, and mouth hanging slightly agape. With your mouth suddenly feeling dry, you gulp and sit up straight, peeling your eyes away from Jake.

Every once in a while, though, your eyes drift back to him; the music flowing through his body with every forceful stomp, every rock of his hips, and every whispered word on his parted lips. You couldn’t deny that when he played, he did it well, and if you aren’t mistaken, you can almost swear that Jake’s eyes drift to you every time you look away; burning holes in the side of your face as you keep your focus on Josh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The rest of the practice is relatively normal, with a few passive-aggressive remarks between the Kiszka siblings, but again, relatively normal. As soon as practice is officially over, Jake can’t get out of there fast enough; swiftly unplugging his 1961 Les Paul, placing it on its guitar stand, and booking it for the exit without a single word.

You look over to Josh with a confused expression painted on your features, but he just shrugs nonchalantly and places the microphone back on the mic stand. Making his way to the couch, you scoot over to make room for him, letting him plop down next to you. “So, what’d you think?” He asks, slightly out of breath.

“Josh, you guys were amazing,” You answer honestly, turning to face him fully, and smiling at the growing talent of your best friend, “You’re going to go so far.”

“Thank you,” He says, smiling in return, his adorable tooth gap shining through more than anything. You’ve always loved his smile, and it made you wonder if Jake’s was the same, not that you saw it much whenever you were around anyway. “So, are you staying for dinner?” Josh asks, his genuine smile morphing into a sly one.

“You’re my ride,” You point out once again, squinting suspiciously and seeing right through him, “Do I have much of a choice?”

“Not really, no,” He smiles wider, knowing he’s gotten his way, “But, if you don’t want to stay, I won’t make you.” He says, holding his hands up in defense.

“I’m only joking when I complain about staying,” You assure him, not wanting him to think you dislike being around him or his family, “Of course I’ll stay for dinner.”

“Perfect!” He exclaims, shooting up from the couch, and holding his hand out for you to take it. When you do, he yanks you from your seated position, and you nearly lose your balance when you get to your feet. Releasing your hand, Josh grabs his bag and your bag, motioning you to follow him into the house. “We’re ordering pizza.” He states matter-of-factly over his shoulder.

You glance back at Danny and Sam, who are staying behind to debrief the practice, and walk up the short steps to the entrance that connects the kitchen to the garage. Like a gentleman, Josh holds open the door for you, allowing you to walk in before him.

The house is much cooler than the garage, where the peak spring warmth accumulates heavily, making the air sickeningly thick and humid. The sheen layer of sweat bordering your features dries quickly with the soft blow of air conditioning carrying around the house. Behind you, Josh sets both his bag and your bag on the kitchen table residing next to the garage entrance.

“Any suggestions?” Josh asks, referring to the pizza, as he picks up the home phone. Turning around to look at him, you silently shake your head, knowing you’ll be content with whatever he decides. While Josh calls in the order, you wander into the empty living room; different shades of autumn brown blanket every surface, family photos litter the tan walls, and an overstuffed shelf struggles to uphold an impressive collection of vinyl.

Since the first moment you walked through the door many years ago, the faint smell of cinnamon has always lingered, seeping into the worn furniture and even your clothes by the time your visit was over. It was a smell you grew quite fond of, and a smell you always associated with the Kiszkas.

“Pizza’s ordered,” Josh says from behind you, entering the living room, and walking past you to plop onto the faux-leather recliner next to the stairs. Following suit, you plop onto the large matching couch next to him, immediately sprawling out on the soft cushions and staring at the off-white ceiling. “So, finals are next week.” You hear Josh say from the recliner, his voice carrying above you.

“Yep,” You frustratingly sigh at the thought of them, “then our sophomore year of college is over– then onto the next.” You couldn’t wait for your college career to be over; you majored in Photography while Josh majored in Film, but you both had overlapping classes. Photography was something you participated in as a hobby, but you figured, why not make it a career? Sometimes you regret your decision.

“Yeah…” Josh responds with a sense of uncertainty on his tongue, making you take your focus off of the ceiling and lift your head to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, propping yourself on your elbows when you see the upset look on his face. It’s not a look he portrays often, and when he does, it worries you immensely. He stays silent for a moment longer, his lips parting ever so slightly, then closing again when words can’t form, “Josh, talk to me.” You urge him, your pulse actively climbing with anxiety.

“You know how I mentioned we might be touring as openers soon?” He asks, his eyes looking anywhere but yours. You were really getting nervous now, causing you to push yourself up into a slumped seated position, fully facing Josh, who still refused to look at you.

“Yes?” You simply answered, growing curious.

“We are touring as openers,” He rushes out in a strong exhale, making his shoulders slump in relief, and as if a weight has been physically lifted off of him.

“Josh!” You gasp his name, your back straightening from shock, “That’s great! When are you touring?” You ask excitedly, but his demeanor doesn’t match yours.

“August,” He answers.

“August,” You repeat back, the excited pitch of your voice still present, but gradually fading, “As in a couple of months, August?”

“Yes, that August.” His response makes your shoulders slump again, and mixed emotions tug at every facial feature. You’re smiling, happy for your friend, but your eyebrows furrow, attempting to understand the situation.

“What about school?” You press for more information before jumping to conclusions.

“I’m dropping out,” He quietly says, almost too quiet because you have to lean forward to capture his words, “After this semester, I’m done.”

“Forever?” You fully frown, your mouth suddenly going dry, and your heart pumping at an unsteady rhythm from the roller coaster of emotions.

“Indefinitely,” He tries to sound optimistic, but ultimately fails, “but, yeah, probably forever.”

“That’s…” You attempt to form words, any words, but they fall short and catch at the back of your throat, causing a whispered straining sound to come out, “...Okay.”

“I know,” He sighs, his eyes finally drifting to you.

“Your dream–”

“I know,” He repeats, a little too loudly, “But I can always come back to it.”

“I guess,” You pause for a moment, thinking of the situation at hand; you were proud of Josh, no doubt about it. Although, all that could echo in your mind was that being in a band was never his dream, working in film and creating films was, no, is. Knowing Josh, he’s already thought this through, and he knows the risk he’s taking. So, scooting closer to the edge of the couch, and closer to Josh, you reach over and grab his hands, giving him reassuring squeezes, “I’m proud of you.”

“Really?” He asks, a sad smile on his face.

“Of course, don’t be ridiculous,” You playfully roll your eyes, bringing his hands up to your heart, “I will always support you.”

“I knew you would,” He smiles genuinely, his rosy cheeks reaching his eyes, “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” You smile back, releasing his hands, which were getting quite sweaty. They fall into his lap, his fingers instantly fidgeting, and he absentmindedly chews on his lower lip. By his demeanor, you can tell the situation still weighs heavily on his conscience, “So, what are we doing for the summer before you leave me forever?” You ask with a small laugh, attempting to lighten the heavy mood, while leaning back to lay down on the couch again with your hands interlocked behind your head.

“First, it’s not forever, it’s like three weeks,” He chuckles, rocking back on the recliner, making it groan in response, “Second, I’m not sure, but I’d like to make the most of it.”

“Me too,” You agree, making a comfortable silence fall between the two of you, with the faint ticking of a clock suddenly sounding too loud. Still, your heart beats rapidly, imagining a school year without Josh, hell, even a town without Josh. You’ve been attached at the hip for seven years, and you can’t help but fear what distance might do to a close friendship.

Startling you both, a loud, forceful knock at the door causes you to swiftly sit up, and Josh shoots up from the recliner, the back of it rocking into the wall behind it, mimicking the current knocking.

“That was fast,” He observes and walks to the front door, fishing out his worn-out wallet from his back pocket. Without paying much attention, you listen to the exchange of Josh handing the money over for the pizza, thanking the delivery driver, and shutting the door with his foot. He reappears in your view, a large square box accompanying him, “Pizza’s here!” He shouts, loud enough for Jake, Danny, Sam, and the damn neighbors to hear. The sheer force of his voice causes you to flinch, a smirk forming on your lips as you shake your head in disbelief.

“Aren’t you supposed to not completely strip your vocal cords?” You ask, laughing while sitting back up.

“Yeah, well, it’s whatever,” He shrugs, leaving you in the living room.

As you’re about to stand from the couch, Jake’s footsteps thud down the steps, each stride earning a small whimper from the aged floorboards. Scrambling to get up, the task proves to be hard when the couch cushions' soft state causes your hands to sink back into them. “Damnit,” You silently curse, heat rising to your cheeks from being flustered.

When Jake reaches the bottom of the stairs, he pauses, watching you shove yourself off of the couch. Huffing out a breath, you immediately feel his presence and glance over at him; his face is stoic, his features carved from stone, and his eyes bored, but a small smirk pulls at his lips. Not a moment passes before he swiftly walks past you, causing a subtle breeze in the once-stagnant air. Your hair whooshes in his direction, reaching out to him, and he’s followed by the faint smell of cologne and smoke. Realizing your reaction, your breathing halts, unintentionally holding his rich scent in your expanded lungs.

Blinking rapidly, and exhaling a sharp breath, you walk into the kitchen where Josh, Jake, Sam, and Danny are all picking at the pizza on the kitchen table like vultures sharing an animal carcass. Luckily, Josh has set aside a plate for you with two slices of pepperoni pizza neatly placed on top. The others, however, grab what they can and hurridly stack the slices onto their plates. Stepping around Josh, you grab your plate and squeeze his shoulder to silently thank him.

With the pizza box empty, you, Josh, Danny, and Sam all file into the living room, with you and Josh calling dibs on the couch, making the two boys sit on the floor. The recliner remains empty, though, probably for Jake.

“So, you coming to the bonfire next weekend?” Josh asks, his mouth full of chewed-up pizza, making you grimace. He has a bad habit of talking with his mouth full.

“Of course, I am,” You answer, taking your first bite of pizza after you respond.

“Good,” He says happily, shoving a large bite of pizza into his mouth.

Jake finally enters the living room, holding a cold beer in his hand, and surveying the full room. His right eye twitches slightly, and he looks to the stairs, most likely deciding to eat in his room. Paying him no mind, you swallow your previous bite, “Do you mind if I bring a friend?” You ask Josh as Jake slowly treads across the living room and toward the stairs.

“Sure! Is it that guy you’ve been talking to?” Josh asks, once again with his mouth full, but doing his best to push the food aside with his tongue. Before you answer, Jake’s steps falter, and instead of going up the stairs, he turns and sits on the recliner. Everyone, including Sam and Danny, who were deep in conversation a moment ago, looks at Jake. Although, he takes a sip of his beer, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Um… Yeah,” You hesitate in your answer, still taken aback by Jake’s voluntary presence. Shaking your head slightly to get out of the trance that is Jake, you turn back to Josh, “Yeah, it’s the guy I’ve been talking to.”

“Great! I can’t wait to meet him,” Josh says enthusiastically.

“I’m sure,” You respond, nerves hanging on the ends of your words. Josh has nothing to do with this reaction, but more so, it’s yourself. You’d be lying if you said it was easy meeting guys and keeping them in your life, but it’s not. They either come off too strong or are way too boring. There was no in-between. This new guy, however, you’re hoping he’s different. You do like him, as a person, but you haven’t quite felt that… connection. “I’ve been promising him to hang out soon, so it’ll be nice to have you there.” You say truthfully.

“Of course,” Josh smiles, his cheeks stuffed with food, and his plate becoming empty quickly. You’ve hardly touched your first slice since you can’t help but notice eavesdropping ears to your right; Jake. His eyes are fixed forward, zoning out on the well-loved but stained carpet, but you can tell he’s listening. For whatever reason, you didn’t know.

•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

That was chapter one of Silver Springs! I’d like to apologize if it seems a little fast paced and uneventful, but I promise it will get better as time goes on. The chapters will likely get longer as well since I have a lot planned for this fic, I just needed to lay the groundwork with this chapter. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it and I’d love to hear your opinions! All my love!

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Tag list:

@aflame4goinghome @peaceloveunitygvf @dilflover-4ever @hollyco @samfkiszka @dayumclarizzel

(Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!)

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Tags:

[mt-oe]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬—modern mizu x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

This is my first fic in this blog. I'm quite nervous since it's been years since I wrote something creative and something outside of academics.

Yes, it's a popular song nowadays and I do only listen to selected songs by the artist. Might leave this be or might create a part 2. Let's see <3 Regardless, I hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa!

Update: Since I love ya'll, here's part two: mwa!

warning: not proofread, smut (mdni please!), she/her for mizu and implied afab reader, mention of virginity and bleeding

oh yeah, mizu is your ex-gf for this one.

I don't really know if she cares or not All I know is she left a lot of stuff in my apartment She's never getting back

It had been a few weeks since you and Mizu broke up. She had initiated it during the middle of the semester. You were too stressed out with your project and being in a demanding program, and to her, you were just too much.

That was not to say she didn't try.

She did.

She absolutely fucking tried her best.

Going out of her way to buy you meals even if she was busy too, buying the materials you needed, letting you cry against her, and even doing some of the parts you struggled with despite not even having a clue on what to do. Nobody could tell her she never even tried.

But like anything else, if it gets used to it, it gets tired. The constant fighting and the amount of time she had gone to bed with a heavy heart was draining her.

A few days after your break up, you had come and collected your things from her apartment. Her heart sunk as your frown greeted her upon opening the door. With the cardboard boxes behind you and your friend in the driver's seat waiting for you, it was clear to her that you were there to take back what was yours that both of you once claimed were 'ours'.

The once happy and comfy abode becoming gloomy and cold as the trinkets you have displayed, the clothes you claimed are still clean, and the books you bought but never read were now gone.

It was just her and her thoughts. Her and her memories with you.

And as the smell on my pillow fades Her cigarettes might stay Like a Roman Coliseum A dry and worthless monument to our love

A sigh escaped her lips as she laid down on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The bed that was once so warm with plushies and fluffy blankets was now cold. She rolled over and looked at what was once your side of the bed. Your pillow still smelled faintly of you, a smell that brought her so much joy and comfort.

As she leaned closer to the pillow and closed her eyes, allowing herself to take in the fading scent from your pillow, the image of you laying down beside her appeared in her mind.

"Good morning.." You whispered groggily, giving her a sleepy yet angelic smile. Your cheek against the pillow as the rays of the morning sun shone against your hair, giving it a brighter hue than it usually had.

A small, almost unseen, smile appeared on Mizu's lips. Her long, slender fingers tucking in a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture sent a shiver down your spine, making you grip the blanket closer to your bare chest, covering the love bites and hickeys she had given you. Her sharp blue eyes scanning every detail of your face. The way your cheeks was subtly smushed against the pillow, the flutter of your eyelashes as you blinked, the way your pupils dilated as you stared back at her.

You purse your lips as you stared back, a glint of mild amusement swirling with the admiration you had for your girlfriend. "What..?" you chortled, leaning closer to her.

"Nothing." She gently pulled you closer, hand giving the plush of your ass a light playful squeeze. "Just admiring..."

I still have your lighter I still have your book I still have everything you brought, but you never took

Mizu let out a groan, opening her eyes to the dull sight of her wall. "That's right.. She's gone.' she thought, rolling her eyes at herself for even feeling a bit of joy reminiscing about you beside her.

Pushing herself up, her hand reached onto her bedside table to grab a cigarette. Her back rested against the bedframe, she placed the cig between her lips. A Marlboro Red. Before you, she used to smoke blues, a recommendation by Taigen that never left her.

That was until she met you.

After meeting you, she went from smoking a pack or two a day to chewing on gum. It wasn't because you convinced her to quit or to appeal to you. It was because she wanted all of you. The taste of your lips, the taste of your tongue—hell, even the taste of your perfume when she pulled you in. She wanted it all.

Now, she was back to smoking. Your absence leaving a pit in her and an odd sense of loneliness in her mouth. This time, she was smoking reds, a want to forget your taste to cope with the ache you left.

Well, she was about to, but when her hands reached into her drawer for a lighter, she found none.

A small "what the fuck?" left her lips as she sat up straight, pulling the bedside drawer out fully to search for the small metal lighter she always kept. Eyebrows knitting together, she pulled out every item in her drawer but to no avail. Her lighter was not there.

What she found, however, was a book. Your book. It was already unwrapped and some corners folded in place of a bookmark. Her heart stopped as she inspected it, hand taking the cigarette from between her lips and onto her ashtray.

Mizu opened the book and began reading from the page where you left off. After scanning over the words printed on the novel, she set it down before letting out a huff of bittersweet amusement. Yup, this book was definitely hers now.

It was a mature novel. A damn fucking smutty novel.

"Mizu.." You called out, a sly yet playful look on your face. You walked over to her desk with the book in your hand, finger slipped in between the pages.

She looked up from the computations she was doing, head turning towards you. "What is it?"

Your hands opened the book, placing it on top of her notebook. Her eyes scanned the paragraphs you highlighted, eyes narrowing as she read out the graphic descriptions of the characters shoving their digits inside each other, each word describing the erotic sounds made and the intensity of the arousal the characters felt.

She gulped, swallowing the pooling saliva at the back of her mouth as she handed the novel back to you. "What...do you mean by this?" she asked carefully, cautious not to embarrass herself by revealing how the written scene made her feel some sort of heat between her legs.

Hands slipped down between her legs, eliciting a groan from the usually stoic woman as you slid your hands down. "Mizu." You bent down to her height and tossed the closed book on top of her desk, knocking the pens and pencils further back.

"I want to do that too."

You know where to find me And I know where to look

The scene replayed in her mind like a video tape. The way you looked at her with such want. The way she pushed you down roughly against the bed, hand taking off your dress with such desire she almost ripped it by the seams. The way your eyes looked up at her as if waiting for her to continue, demanding her to continue.

Your back arched against the mattress, hands gripping the sheets as you squeezed your eyes shut. "Fuck.." Mizu breathed out, watching the strap-on sink in to your glistening cunt. A choked back moan escaping your lips as you bit your cheeks in, tears springing from the corner of your eyes as the plastic stretched you further.

"Halfway in, dove." She groaned out, eyebrows furrowing as if she could feel you through the toy, hands gripping the soft flesh of your thighs harder.

Your eyes glanced at her before rolling back as she pushed the strap-on further inside, the pain of the stretch making you whimper. "W-Wait...please.." You moaned in a whiny, slightly pained manner, a hand moving from gripping the sheets to gripping Mizu's arm.

Her movements halted immediately upon feeling your nails against her arm, digging into it and creating crescent-shaped marks. Her eyes traveled from the pained-yet-pleasured expression on your face to your hole.

"Holy shit..." She whispered, pulling out a bit to see it clearly. Blood. You were fucking bleeding. "Dove...I'm so fucking sorry. I—"

She was cut off by you pulling her down for a kiss. Your hands wrapped around her as your nails dug on to her shoulder, eliciting a moan from her. Mizu had no idea you were a virgin. It was never a piece of information she had considered nor cared about until now. In fact, her concern was placed on the fact that you were bleeding.

Her eyes widened as she felt your legs wrapping around her back, pulling her closer and pushing the toy in more. "Take it..." You moaned out, eyes squeezing shut. "Fuck me...take me"

You were offering yourself to her, letting her take your first time.

Mizu's eyes narrowed, the feeling of worry disappearing as it was replaced by a carnal desire. Her hands gripped your trembling thighs harder as she lifted them up more and pushed you down further, almost knocking all the air out your lungs as she put you in a mating press position.

Her hips pushed the toy inside you, biting her lip at the wet squelching noise your pussy made. A moan escaped both your throats as the length of the toy was fully inside you. She paused for a moment before looking at you with narrowed eyes as if asking you for consent to continue.

The moment you nodded, she immediately pulled the toy almost all the way out before pushing it completely, eliciting a loud moan from you. Her hips continued to move, motion starting of slow but hard. The pain from your nails raking down her back stung, but she continued to move, not even bothering to move your hands.

How could she?

The sight of you taking her, all of her, like the good girl you are was scrumptious.

"Hurry...please.." You pleaded, thoughts blanking out as the pleasure overrode the pain you were previously in. Each thrust sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. The pleads coming from your mouth becoming incoherent as Mizu thrusts in faster and harder.

She gripped your chin, forcing you open your mouth before capturing you in another kiss. Her tongue exploring the caverns of your mouth, smiling slightly as she tasted you. Her eyes watching over your expression as she moved, taking in the way your eyes looked at her and the way it rolled back when she thrusted the dildo in roughly.

Your legs trembled as you continued to lock her in, pushing against her more. Incoherent moaning and whining mixed with low groans and grunts filled the room. The tightening feeling building up inside you as Mizu continued to move. Her thumb rubbed against your clit, making you moan almost desperately.

It didn't take long for your climax to come, a wave of pleasure bursting in you. She placed her hand against the small of your back as you arched against her. The way you closed your eyes shut, the way your eyebrows furrowed, the tears of pleasure that streamed down your face, the way your cheeks flushed. You were so fucking beautiful to her.

Mizu snapped back into reality, rubbing her face against the palm of her hands in frustration. The regret of breaking up settling in her. She stood up and placed the cigarette between her lips again. Her feet making no noise as walked over to the kitchen to grab the kitchen lighter she kept in cabinets, lighting the red and taking a puff out of it.

A groan escaped her lips as the self-hatred from making such a foolish decision sunk into her. After a moment of thought, she put on her dark biker jacket and a bunch of rings she put on as a habit before going out.

There was no way she'll let herself live in regret like this. Not after you let her take all of you.

Call it thieving, stealing, but she's taking back what's not hers.

Thievin', stealin', takin' what's not yours