#it would haunt him but he'd be too devoted

[sebastian-ciel-mutual-bullying]

Black butler AU where everything is the same but Sebastian has chronic acid reflux.

[thewickedjazzy]

Blood, Sweat & Tears [Sex Pollen] for Kinktober.

♡「knight! akutagawa x afab! reader.」

Synopsis: you drag your loyal knight to a secluded antique shop, unaware that a cursed relic would force him to quench his insatiable desire for you, leaving him one choice only...fuck or watch you both die.

Warnings and w/c: 3.1k. ņsfw, smųt with plot, dead dove ー read at your own risk, dub-con, blood, cum, manipulation, age gap (aku is in his 30s YUM), sex pollen (obv.) slight implied knife play (rashomon)...etc.

“ryuu-kun, c'mon! why are you so stiff? just relax!” you giggle softly, tugging on the poor man's black shoulder cape as you practically drag him toward the entrance of the haunted antique shop.

truth be told, akutagawa wasn’t hesitant —at least, not for the reasons you assumed. the idea of going against the king’s orders wasn’t something he took lightly. defying authority was not a habit for a devoted knight like him, and he had never imagined himself in a situation like this. but for you?

oh — for you, he would go against any order. he would take any risk just to see your eyes light up, to hear that carefree laugh of yours that always seemed to make the heavy burdens on his heart feel lighter. lord! how he loves to just see your cheeks flush, the delicate pink hue resembling the sakura in full bloom ー his new favorite colour.

akutagawa had been by your side for years, from your childhood through your teenage years, and now, as you stepped into adulthood, he couldn't help but notice how things had changed. he had seen your growth with his own eyes, and it disturbed him more than he'd ever admit. you were becoming someone who could get into trouble with ease, and while he was too loyal to question you, the protective instinct in him was stronger than ever.

“i’m relaxed, with all due respect, don't you think you're being a bit reckless?” despite his apparent annoyance, his eyes soften as they find yours. there was something captivating about the way your eyes glimmer under the poor light of the shop, like stars in a forgotten sky.

you step further into the abandoned shop, soft giggles echo as akutagawa’s reluctant footsteps follow close behind. the place feels like it hasn’t seen sunlight in ages, dust dances in the beams filtering through the cracked windows, illuminating shelves filled with eerie artifacts and relics of a forgotten age. for you? this was simply an adventure — a moment of thrill in an otherwise carefully controlled life.

“look, ryuu-kun! isn’t it fascinating?” you point toward an ornate mirror standing tall at the back of the shop. its frame is twisted, covered in intricate carvings that seem almost to shift as you stare at them. “wooah! i’ve never seen anything like it.”

the knight watches you approach the mirror, every instinct tells him this place isn’t safe, that there’s a dark enchantment here that could harm you. but your enthusiasm and willingness to explore, pulls him in against his better judgment.

“your highness...” he says softly despite the danger evident in his voice, “don’t touch it. we don’t know what kind of curse or magic might lie within that thing.”

but of course you’re already inches away, mesmerized by your own reflection in the mirror’s surface as if it almost seems to beckon you, whispering captivating, incoherent lullabies that you can’t quite decipher. your fingers reach out, grazing the glass searching for the source of the sound. but the moment you make contact, an odd chill courses through you, and the reflection changes, warping, revealing shadows of something darker within.

and suddenly, you’re not looking at yourself anymore. instead, you see visions flickering across the mirror — scenes of solitude, a vast, empty world where you stand utterly alone. the cheerful warmth in your chest vanishes, replaced by a cold sense of despair. you try your best to step back, but your gaze remains locked onto the mirror as if bound by an invisible force.

akutagawa’s eyes widen as he watches you freeze, your expression shifting from delight to horror. without a second thought, he lunges forward, pulling you away, but not before his eyes accidentally catch his own reflection. and again, the mirror’s black magic grips him, and for a fleeting moment, he sees something horrifying — the blood stained memories of his past in the port mafia, of every life he’s taken, every failure, every ounce of suffering he encountered.

“r-ryuu-kun…” you try to speak but you're disoriented...pale, leaning against him as you struggle to steady your breathing.

he shakes himself free, grip tightening slightly on your arm. “we need to leave. NOW.”

you nod, feeling a strange, lingering heaviness creeping inside your chest. arguing feels pointless, afterall he’s the reason you’re still alive and kicking up till now. you murmur a soft “i’m sorry,” but he doesn’t respond. without a glance, he strides toward the door pulling you along with him.

and just as he reaches the threshold, a sweet, floral yet infused with a dangerously intoxicating heady scent looms around you both, almost as if the scent itself seeps into your senses, leaving your body heating up and your thoughts hazy.

“ryuu?… i don’t feel well-… what do we—what's happening to me?” your voice is barely audible, the heat sensation spreading through you rapidly, making your cheeks flush more and your breaths come quicker, each inhale carrying more of that cloying scent, filling your senses until all you can think about is the knight by your side.

“it's the curse,” he mutters, “i-it won't break unless we give... blood, and... uh- more.”

you look up at him and it’s clear he’s struggling just as much, flushed and panting heavily. you instinctively cling to him, seeking closure against your own will, and he finds himself leaning closer, almost reflexively. despite the losing battle within him to resist, he begins to tell himself that perhaps fulfilling this desire is the only way to break free of the mirror’s spell? perhaps it's the only way to truly protect you? there’s no time to consider if it’s twisted or not, he's silently beating himself up for letting you get hurt in the first place.

he tries his best to keep his thoughts under control, but it's nearly impossible with the enchanted pollen's effect taking over his mind and turning him into a puppet of it's own making and the line between his sense of duty to protect you and his desire to make the aching pain in his pants go away becomes harder to see.

“your majesty..” he murmurs almost apologetically as he lowers his face close to yours, a deep blush spreads across your cheeks as you finally understand — this isn't just about you and him anymore. this is about survival, about breaking the curse that binds you. blood and cum must mix in order for the magic to release its grip. is it grotesque? yes, but in this moment, it’s the only way out.

your eyes are heavily half-lidded, lips parted perfectly, a few beads of sweat trace your cupid’s bow as you clench onto him with wobbly legs, your thoughts absolutely shameless, cunt instinctively clenching around nothing, are you actually craving him? the knight who has been by your side for so many years — the one who’s spent countless hours guarding and protecting you — is now stirring feelings you’d only ever brushed aside. you would be lying if you said that you never thought of him this way, there was something about the familiar warmth he carried that made you want to stay wrapped in his arms forever.

“ryuu-kun.. i-it hurts so bad— please make it stop.” you cry, though you're not sure whether you're asking for release from the curse or for something else entirely. the look you're giving him is so pathetic that he can't help but dart out his tongue to wet his lips, before smashing his lips on yours feverishly, you both grunt in relief, you're not sure what's happening but it's seems to work. he slips his agile tongue between your parted lips, spit mingles with lewd mewls as he pins you against the wall, hands fumbling with his garments, taking his pants off, unbuttoning his black tonic, almost everything as to free himself from the suffocating layers of fabric, before fully pressing his bare upper body against yours.

“your highness... i'm sorry,” the words are soft, but the look in his eyes is anything but. there’s a lurking emotion there that he rarely reveals— less guilt, and more... eagerness? surely he knows the stakes of this spell too well. he understands the strength and danger of it, how it could kill you both in less than an hour if you don’t break it. yet, akutagawa’s no saint. he's a deviant, laced with sin and shameless thirst, an absolute reprobate. even as he’s forced into this for your survival. there’s an obscene side to him he can’t hide, a filthy hunger in how his gaze trails over your body, wondering how it’ll feel when you’re wrapped tight around him, how you’ll respond to him thrusting into you. will you bite back a scream? will you moan his name, too breathless, too fucked out to form a word?

either ways, there's no point for him to guess as he'll be witnessing it shortly. strong and boney hands tremble as they run wild against your body till they reach your pants pulling them down, he's too engrossed in your details as a muffled groan escapes his pretty lips before he slides down your nectar-soaked panties, taking both your legs wrapping them around his narrow waist, holding you close as if he can’t bear the thought of you slipping away from him. with a shaky sigh as he pops the buttons of your shirt, catching the beautiful euphoric sight of your breasts spilling over your bra.

“there's no time, please trust me on this,” just a few words to trick himself that what he's doing is only for your survival. his disheveled black and white locks brush your cheek as he presses quick, breathless kisses to your temple.

you manage to nod, feeling his hard cock press against your puffy folds from beneath, and your hips subconsciously buck yearning for any friction to ease the swell of pain building rapidly in your core.

however, it's short-lived, as in mere seconds, he's plunging into you with a deep, throaty groan, his entire body trembling as if he's been transported to another dimension. a wave of tingling ecstasy floods through him, muscles tightening as his fingers dig into your bare shoulders, holding you close.

“f-fuhckmmh- your highness-” he whimpers against your ear, the heat radiating from his body is absolutely insane, “forgiv-e me—,”another thrust, “i am bound to protect you— not to desecrate you like this.”

“i-it's fine,” you murmur, soft fingers gripping his face to force him to look at you. “i trust you ryuu-kun.”

what other options do you have? none.

he just stares at you for a few seconds before thrusting again. his hips start moving leisurely at first, stretching you deliciously as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his mesmerising scent, feeling every agonising movement of his flawless cock picking up its pace by each passing second and the instant he bottoms out, he practically 'pounds' into you deeper, harder, each stroke finding a new angle that leaves you gasping for air.

his own pleasure is muffling his ears. he still cannot believe it. he's been waiting for this moment his entire life, to finally fuck his monarch that's been taking over his thoughts each passing night, getting him atrociously horny.

“oh god, you feel ngh~ heavenly—,” it's a whisper more to himself, knobby hands gripping the swell of your ass as he rams into you manically, “blood...we- fuck! have to mix blood.”

before you can make sense of it, he conjures a faint trace of rashomon from his tonic, its shadowy tendrils coiling around his sleeve, sharp enough to slice yet gentle in his intent. he presses the edge to your palm, watching a bead of crimson pool against your skin.

the sharp sting pulls a gasp from your lips, your dazed mind barely registering the act before akutagawa does the same to himself. dark silver eyes smoulder with lust as he guides both your bleeding palms to his cock, smearing the mingled blood over it, the warm slickness adding to the sinful mess already coating him.

“ryuu-” you breathe, with a trembling voice, whether from pain or arousal, you’re not sure.

his eyes meet yours before you feel the soft clouds of his lips crash onto yours, it's all desperate and messy, teeth nipping at your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. the metallic tang spreads across your tongue, blending with the taste of him as he drinks in your broken moans, tongue delves deeper into your mouth, spit melding together as he aligns himself with your slit once more. his blood-slickened cock slides back into you, each thrust feels heavier, deeper, as if the leverage of the curse itself presses against you both, urging you to fulfill its dark demands.

“just a litt-le more,” he rasps, teeth scraping along the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a delicate trail of violet bruises and ruptured vessels.

a borderline salacious symphony of sounds echoes, wet and obscene, sopping and slick, each thrust accompanied by a squeaky rhythm as his balls slap against your pillowy ass cheeks. your eyes roll back in a bliss, glossy lips parting lusciously in a wanton moan, every vein and ridge of him dragging you closer to euphoric oblivion.

“ryuu... i can’t...” you sob, nails digging into his back as the pressure in your core mounts, legs trembling around his waist. “i... i can’t take it anymore...”

“stay with me, your majesty haah,” he murmurs breathlessly, lips brushing against your ear as he drives into you deeper. “we need... to break it. just a little longer... please...”

his hands clutch at your hips, pulling you into each thrust until all that’s left is the white-hot pressure of the spell, of the lust, threatening to swallow you both. his cock throbs inside you, and it’s clear— he can’t hold back any longer.

“please, ryuu... i’m—” you bite your lip, unable to finish as the knot in your belly tightens, ready to burst.

akutagawa's focus narrows, all he can think about is you, how your breasts bounce with each thrust, body arching beneath his, exposing the delicate curve of your neck— everything about you is perfect in this moment, and he can't tear his eyes away. the sight of your face contorted in pleasure, the pout tugging on your lips, the way your legs tremble, how your hips move to meet his, how your nails drag across his back starved for his naked skin. is this his body on yours? is he finally feeling you? kissing you? fucking you?

'god, look at you,' he can barely think, his thoughts fragmented, lost in the instinctual need to bury himself deeper, to take more, to feel more. the way you tighten around him, the slick, wet warmth of your cunt — he’s fucking drowning in it.

'fucking beautiful.'

a few thrusts of akutagawa’s hips and his name tears from your lips in a breathless, desperate cry, the sound of your orgasm crashing over you like a truck, slamming into him with brutal force. your walls flutter and clench around his cock, milking him, dragging him deeper into the molten heat of your release.

his vision blurs, heart thundering in his chest as his hearing dulls to nothing but the wet, obscene noises of your bodies joined together. for the first time in his life, he is obliterated by the sheer, soul-stealing intensity of his orgasm, his cock still twitching violently as he spills deep inside you, his seed mingles with the blood smeared between you, the combined essence finally breaking the curse’s seal.

“i-is it over?”

akutagawa doesn’t answer immediately, his forehead pressing against your shoulder as he struggles to gather himself. his meaty length that's still buried inside you twitches, body refusing to move, refusing to let go of the impossible warmth and tightness of your walls. the thought of pulling out feels unbearable, like he’d be severing himself from something sacred.

“yes,” he finally rasps, “the curse is broken.”

still, he doesn’t move, his grip on your hips tightening imperceptibly. every inch of him aches to stay like this, to savor the raw, feral perfection of you wrapped around him. but he won’t say it — not to you, not to your highness. it’s not his place to speak such desires aloud. instead, he forces himself to swallow the words, forcing his breathing to even out as he pulls out of you despite the burning need still coiling in his gut.

without a word, he moves to gather your clothes, fingers brushing over your skin tenderly in a way that feels foreign coming from him, as if he’s afraid that, if he rushes, it’ll break something.

“rest, your highness. please, don’t move,” he ties the fabric hovering near your ear as his soft upper lip brushes your sensitive skin with a low murmur. “you’re safe now.”

“safe...” you repeat the word, almost testing it on your tongue.

“at least for now, but the curse... it doesn’t work like that. it’s not just broken once. it could flare up again in a few days... and when it does,” he pauses, allowing his words to settle in for a few seconds. “we’ll have to repeat the ritual.”

he’s a liar. a filthy, self-loathing liar.

the curse is broken. it has been broken since that moment. nothing will flare up again. it’s absolutely impossible. the ritual is complete. there is no reason for him to say this, no reason at all. but still, he can’t help himself. he lies, not to protect you—but to keep you. to keep you near him, just a little longer.

“we’ll have our next time soon,” he mutters to himself, he hates himself for it. every fiber of his being recoils at the thought of deceiving you like this, manipulating you with his twisted words, but the words are already sealed in his mind. mostly like a promise — one he will keep. and this time, he won’t stop.

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetbutterflix @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguru @writingandmusing @corruptedwrathkitsune @thedamselzelda @fyodorssimp1 @vikkinakahara @laylabuurr @perlaslibrary @remlionheart @osamucide @ranpazz @naviiq

[fortheb0ys]

I wanna dress Will Graham up all nice and pretty just to mess him all up again :3

BROOO YOU GOT ME THINKING!! Give me like two sentences and I could go on and on if I'm feeling it. So I offer you my ramblings🤲

Does anyone remember that one Criminal Minds episode where this lady collects human dolls?!?

Well, make that into male reader insert <(´･ω･`<)

CW Sorry, i realized I don't put these often : reader is a serial killer and will is profiling him, reader views people as objects, reader can't tell what's real and will uses that to his advantage, will refers to himself as a 'sex doll', murder (not too descriptive), reader loses his virginity, sex, stalking, kidnapping, obsessive behavior NOT PROOFREAD ENDING IS RUSHED!

FEM ALIGNED + MINORS DNI

You watched Will from a distance, become fascinated by Will's beauty. His curly hair, his facial structure, his build, his everything.

He haunted you. You saw him everywhere you went.

Will was different from the rest. A body of pure perfection. The others ones in your collection were unamusing, marred in compaison to him.

Once you've had gotten your hands on him, your collection fell neglected. Left on the shelf to collect dust. Disposed of them when they broke.

Will was your prized doll like one of those vintage Christmas Barbies.

Once you've finally gotten your hands on him you noted he wasn't in perfect condition. It was quite clear under closer eyes, a few nicks and scratches. You'd treat him better than anyone else would. You wanted to keep him from farther damage.

At first, Will was a bit hard to play with. His face model was always in a scowl. Brows knitted in anger.

You thought about redoing his face, scraping off the base and painting a new one. Thoughts about the last time you've done it deterred your decision. Their faces had always came out disfigured, never getting quite right.

His hard shell didn't deter your love for him. You treated him gently, bought things for him, making small conversations at your little tea parties. His anger was met with your kindness.

It took a while till Will's shell chipped away. His scowl disappeared, replaced with a friendly smile. Happiness to see you home from you doll hunting.

Soon he became the best doll you've owned. A pleasure to have company with.

His voice box sounded much different from the others. The other doll yelled crude obscenities. Of course, their angry words didn't last long as taking out their boxes quieted them down.

Will was kinder. He was more willing to carry a conversation. He'd let you play with him without protest. Let you play with him, brush his hair, change his clothes. The others were hard to move, their sticky joints refusing to move.

Of course, the hunt for new dolls didn't stop. Once Will met these new friends, he became cold. Back to the old Will.

Will never liked play to nice. Mean and unpleasant words were barked at the others. They broke quicker than anticipated. You'd find Will covered in red, broken dolls at his feet.

He'd plea that he was special. That you couldn't have any other dolls. He was the only one that's supposed to be in your collection. Red, teary eyes begging to be the only doll in your collection.

You pulled him into close embrace, feeling his pounding heartbeat against your chest. Whispered promises as he cried at your every word.

Your precious Will, beautiful yet so broken. You plege devotion solely to him.

Since than you only cared for Will. Every moment was spent with him.

He seemed to enjoy playtime as well. He'd sit quiet and pretty as you changed him. His hands always posed between his legs. His joints bent seamlessly as he shifted in his sit.

One day while picking his clothes for the day, Will made mention that he had working parts down...there. That they'd the react when played with.

He said he was a 'sex doll', that only he's the only one.

He guided you as you were inexperienced. Spoke you through each step. Your fingers nervously stretching him. Your eyes trained on Will's face, looking for any sort of discomfort.

Fingers still he's face contorts. You weren't sure if it was discomfort or pleasure. You weren't going to risk breaking your precious doll by testing which one.

Your hand begins withdrawaling from between him. Before you could do or say anything farther, Will's hand shoots forward to grasp your wrist.

"Don't fucking stop." Will growls as his grip tightly.

His eyes darken, a glint of something beneath them. Like there was a secret to be shared behind blown out pupils. It seems almost sinister.

Your heart skips a beat and your mouth goes dry and all you could do was give him a small nod. Sex brought out this side of an otherwise gentle Will. One you were not willing to challenge.

Once Will felt like he was fully prepped and ready, he made you withdrawal your soaked fingers. With shaking hands gripping your cock, guiding it to his ready hole. A hiss sounding from Will almost made you stop but you wouldn't dare to do that again.

It felt so fucking good. Stinking in inch by inch. His hole stretching to fit your cock. His insides warm and wet. Pleasure consuming your entire being.

Did all dolls feel like this? Why haven't you tried this before?

Once Will completely bottomed out, he gave you a slight squeeze. You had to hold yourself back, nearly cumming after only just a moment.

Your eyes shut tight as your head falls against Will's chest, trying to focus on breathing. Shaking breaths timed with Will's heartbeat.

A sharp kick to your side, a signal that Will wants you to move. Eyes snap open to look deep into Will's. That look still present, now even darker.

"Take it nice and slow." Will spoke sweetly behind a kind smile. He's gentle once again. Will's changes in mood were slightly off putting.

You began to move at a slow pace, sloppy as you tested the water. Thrusts were shallow and somber. Will's hand grip at your hips and begin guiding your movements.

"Follow my lead." He locked eyes while you felt the need to look away.

His hands push you forward establishing a rythm. Pushing in deep to hit something the made Will gasp and pulling out till your tip was the only thing in him.

You tried focusing on keeping the order as you roll your hips into him but everything felt so good your mind went numb. Will's grunts turned into moans as you kept nailing the spot in him that made him sing.

You push your entire weight onto, trying to reach deeper and deeper. Confidence is now yours when Will clenches around you. The heat is suffocating, sweat pools down your back.

One of his hands leaves your hips, guiding yours onto his weaping cock. Your fingers tightens around it, jerking it in rythm with your thrusts. White drips for his tip on his stomach. He's as close as you.

Your thrusts finally lose pace and your thrusts become shallow once again as you feel like the end is near. Will pulls you in a kiss, swallowing your little sounds, cumming together. White paints your bodies.

You pant as you collapse on top of Will. Your eyes fall heavy as you focus on catching your breath.

"Will you stay with me forever, doll?" You plead once the room had fell silent.

"Till time separates us."

You pull Will close, your head against his neck. In that moment he felt real, almost human. Like his heart beat just as yours. Like flesh and bone.

[darknesseddiem]

𝐂𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐈𝐧 𝐂𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐬 - 𝐎𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫! 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐝! 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐱 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Eddie, a witty single dad in his thirties, finds his daughter Selene determined to play matchmaker. Selene sets her sights on you, the kind-hearted teacher she believes is perfect for her dad. However, Selene's well-meaning schemes often lead to humorous misunderstandings and mishaps between Eddie and you.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: None, fluff and Selene playing matchmaker.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8k+

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Okay, this was supposed to be a short blurb but I got carried away haha, also, I feel like this is so shitty omg I'm sorry guys.

Being a dad wasn’t in Eddie’s plans—especially not as a single dad. He loved his daughter Selene more than anything, but raising a newborn at thirty was a challenge he never saw coming. Her mom, a groupie he met at the Hideout, appeared on his doorstep one day with a tiny bundle and the bombshell news that he was a father. Then, just as quickly, she vanished, leaving Eddie to figure out fatherhood on his own.

At first, it was overwhelming. Sleepless nights, diaper disasters, and the constant worry of not being good enough haunted him. But Eddie rose to the challenge. He became the best dad Selene could ask for. He let her dress him up like a princess—complete with tiara—just to see her smile. He sang girly pop songs with all the enthusiasm of a rock concert, even if his Taylor Swift renditions were hilariously off-key. Selene’s giggles were worth every missed note and awkward dance move.

As she grew, new challenges arose. Eddie was terrified of kindergarten and primary school, haunted by memories of his own school days filled with bullying and the heavy stigma of being a Munson. He worried Selene would face the same judgments and social struggles. The thought of her enduring what he went through kept him up at night. But his love for her was unwavering, and he vowed to protect her from the shadows of his past.

Dating fell by the wayside as Eddie devoted himself to Selene. His wild nights at the Hideout were replaced by Disney movie marathons and bedtime stories. He traded late-night parties for evenings filled with princesses, talking animals, and endless reruns of "Frozen." And truth be told, he wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

This shift led to the current heart-to-heart with his friend Steve, someone Eddie never thought he'd befriend. As they sat on the couch, Eddie voiced his frustrations.

“You don’t understand, man. I can’t just go out and date any girl now,” Eddie explained, sipping his cold beer.

“I get it, but ever since Selene was born, you don’t go out anymore—not even with us!” Steve said, frustration evident. “You’ve turned into a hermit, man. You need a life outside of Disney movies and bedtime stories.”

Eddie sighed, staring at the flickering TV. “I know, Steve. It’s just... everything’s different now. I can’t just drop everything and go out like I used to.”

Steve nodded sympathetically. “I get that you’re a dad now, but you’ve gotta take care of yourself too. Maybe it’s time to dip your toes back into the dating pool. Who knows? You might find someone who understands and fits into your new life.”

Eddie let out a wry chuckle. “I doubt that. What kind of woman wants a thirty-six-year-old guy with a daughter? Slim pickings, I tell you.”

Steve squeezed Eddie’s shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t count yourself out, buddy. We’ll find you someone.”

Eddie looked at Steve with a hint of resignation. “Forget it, Steve,” he sighed. “I think I’m destined to be alone for the rest of my life.” He rolled his eyes playfully, masking the underlying sadness with humor.

Just then, a small figure emerged from the hallway shadows. Selene stood there, eyes wide and thoughtful. Eddie and Steve turned, momentarily surprised.

Eddie's heart skipped a beat, realizing she had heard everything. He swallowed hard, unsure of what to say.

Selene looked up at her dad with a serious expression. “Daddy, you don’t have to be alone. I can help find you a girlfriend!”

Eddie blinked, taken aback by her earnestness. He exchanged a surprised glance with Steve, who stifled a chuckle.

“Sel,” Eddie started, his voice softening as he knelt to her level, “It’s sweet of you to want to help, but…”

“But what?” Selene interrupted, eyes wide with determination.

“But it’s not that simple,” Eddie explained gently. “Finding someone special takes time, and they have to be someone who understands how important you are to me.”

Selene nodded thoughtfully, processing her dad’s words. “Okay,” she finally said, a small smile playing on her lips. “But when you find her, can we watch Disney movies together?”

Eddie couldn’t help but smile at his daughter’s innocence. “Of course, sweetheart,” he replied, ruffling her hair affectionately.

Steve watched the exchange with a fond smile. “You’ve got quite the matchmaker here, Eddie,” he remarked, patting Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Eddie chuckled, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a while. “She’s something else.”

While Eddie and Steve chuckled over their beers, finding amusement in the situation, Selene had already made up her mind: she would find her daddy a girlfriend.

Returning to her room, Selene plopped down on her bed and began to think about all the adult women she knew. Well, there was the librarian, Mrs. Petterson, but she looked like an old owl with her thick glasses and constant "shushing." Then there was the girl from the bakery who always brought cakes for her and her daddy, but she smelled weird—like a mix of flour and something Selene couldn't quite place, maybe too much vanilla.

She briefly considered the nice lady from the grocery store who always gave her stickers, but she remembered her loud, witchy laugh that made her shiver. And then there was Mrs. Hinkley, the neighbor with the ten cats, but Selene was pretty sure her daddy was allergic to cats.

She sighed dramatically and sank deeper into her pillow. Wow… It was so hard to get a girlfriend. It seemed like every woman she knew had some kind of issue or quirk. Just then, a light bulb went off in her head. She sat up abruptly, her eyes wide with excitement. Her kindergarten teacher, Miss Sunshine! Miss Sunshine was perfect—she was always kind, smelled nice, and most importantly, Selene adored her.

With renewed determination, Selene smiled to herself. This was going to work. It had to! She just needed to come up with a plan. After all, if finding a girlfriend for her daddy was this hard, actually making it happen would require all her wits and maybe a bit of luck.

That night, Selene went to sleep with her head buzzing with ideas. Tomorrow, her plan would begin. She could already picture it: Daddy and Miss Sunshine, happy together. Selene smiled to herself as she drifted off, dreaming of all the ways she would bring them together.

The next morning, Selene woke up with the first rays of dawn, excitement bubbling inside her like a fizzy soda. She could hardly contain her enthusiasm as she slipped out of bed and padded over to her dresser. Today was the day her grand plan would begin.

She chose her favorite princess dress, the one with sparkles and a twirl-worthy skirt, and carefully pulled it on. She took extra time brushing her hair, making sure it was smooth and shiny, just like a real princess. Finally, she checked her reflection and gave herself a big, confident smile. She was ready.

Eddie was already in the kitchen, juggling a frying pan and a coffee mug. He was making scrambled eggs and toast, a breakfast staple in the Munson household. He hummed softly to himself, enjoying the quiet morning routine.

Selene bounded into the kitchen, her dress fluttering around her. "Morning, Daddy!" she chirped, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Eddie turned, a broad smile spreading across his face at the sight of his daughter. "Good morning, princess! You’re up early today."

Selene climbed onto a chair at the kitchen table, her excitement barely contained. "I have a special day planned, Daddy. It’s very important!"

Eddie chuckled as he placed a plate of eggs and toast in front of her. "Oh? And what’s so special about today?"

Selene leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It’s a secret, but you’ll find out soon."

Eddie raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A secret, huh? Well, I guess I’ll just have to wait and see."

After breakfast, Eddie and Selene headed out to the car. Eddie helped Selene buckle into her booster seat before climbing into the driver’s seat. As they drove to school, Selene hummed a happy tune, her mind racing with thoughts of how the day would unfold.

Eddie glanced at her in the rearview mirror, a soft smile playing on his lips. "You seem extra happy today, Sel. Anything you want to share with your old man?"

Selene giggled. "Not yet, Daddy. But it’s going to be amazing. You’ll see."

Eddie laughed, shaking his head in amusement. "Alright, princess. I trust you."

When they arrived at the school, Eddie walked Selene to her classroom, as he did every morning. You were already there, greeting students with your usual warmth. Your bright smile and sunny demeanor earned you the nickname, and you was a favorite among the children and parents alike.

"Good morning, Miss Sunshine!" Selene called out as she entered the classroom, her excitement evident.

"Good morning, Selene!" You replied, your smile widening. "You look lovely today. Is that a new dress?"

Selene twirled around, showing off her outfit. "No, but it’s my favorite!"

Eddie watched the exchange with a fond smile before stepping forward. "Morning, Miss Sunshine. How are you?"

"I’m great, Mr. Munson. How about you?"

"Can’t complain," Eddie replied, giving you a nod before turning to Selene. "Alright, princess. Have a great day. I’ll see you later."

As soon as Eddie left, Selene’s determination kicked into high gear. She needed to talk to you and set her plan in motion. She waited patiently until the morning activities started, then approached you with a serious expression.

"Miss Sunshine, I have a very important message for you," Selene said, her voice solemn.

You knelt down to her level, intrigued. "What’s the message, Selene?"

"Daddy wants to meet you," Selene stated confidently. "He said he needs to talk to you about something very important."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Oh? Did he say why?"

Selene nodded eagerly. "Yep! He said he needs to talk to you about something super important."

Your mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind Selene’s words. She assumed it must be related to Selene’s behavior or perhaps a concern Eddie had about her schooling. "Is everything okay with you, Selene?"

Selene beamed. "Everything is perfect!"

You smiled, albeit a bit confused. "Alright, I’ll make sure to speak with him when he comes to pick you up."

Eddie arrived at the school later that afternoon, looking forward to seeing Selene after a long day. As he walked towards the classroom, he noticed you standing by the door, a concerned look on your face.

"Hello!" Eddie greeted you with a friendly smile.

"Hello, Mr. Munson. Could I have a word with you?" you asked, your tone a bit more serious than usual.

Eddie’s smile faltered. "Sure, is something wrong?"

You glanced at Selene, who was busy drawing at a nearby table. "Well, Selene mentioned that you wanted to talk to me about something important."

Eddie looked puzzled. "She did? I mean, I guess there’s always something to talk about when you’re a parent, but I didn’t have anything specific in mind."

You frowned slightly, your patience thinning. "She said you were concerned about something."

Eddie’s expression hardened, feeling a twinge of irritation. "Concerned? No, Selene’s been great! I can’t think of any problems."

Selene, overhearing the conversation, decided to join in. "Daddy, did you ask Mrs. Sunshine to be your girlfriend yet?"

Eddie’s eyes widened in shock. "What? No, Selene, that’s not what we talked about!"

Your cheeks turned a shade of pink, and you folded your arms. "Oh, I see. This is a bit... unexpected."

Eddie tried to regain his composure, his voice tense and a bit louder. "I’m really sorry. Selene must have misunderstood our conversation. We were talking about... well, adult stuff, and she must have gotten the wrong idea."

You nodded, but your expression remained serious. "No harm done, but you should know what your daughter is thinking. Kids have such vivid imaginations, but it’s important to clarify these things."

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his frustration rise. "Yeah, she’s definitely got that. I hope this didn’t cause you any trouble."

You shook your head, your smile more strained than genuine. "Not at all, but maybe you should have a talk with her."

Selene looked up at both of you, confused by the adult tension but proud of her efforts. "So, you don’t want to be my daddy’s girlfriend?"

Eddie clenched his jaw, his frustration bubbling over. "Selene, I think it’s best if we leave this to the grown-ups, okay?"

Selene sighed dramatically but nodded. "Okay, Daddy."

You crouched down beside her, your tone softening. "Don’t worry, Selene. Your daddy and I are just friends, and that’s important too."

Selene smiled, satisfied for the moment. Eddie stood up, feeling a mix of relief and lingering irritation.

"Thanks for understanding," he said, his tone sharper than intended.

"No problem at all, Mr. Munson. Have a good evening," you replied, matching his tone.

As they walked away, Eddie couldn’t help but feel a mix of frustration and embarrassment. Despite the awkwardness, he appreciated Selene’s efforts but knew this was just the beginning of what could be a long, complicated journey.

Eddie and Selene walked to the car, Eddie’s mind still buzzing with the awkward exchange with Sunshine. As they buckled in, Eddie couldn’t hold back any longer. He needed to address what had just happened.

Eddie started the car, the engine’s hum filling the initial silence. He glanced at Selene through the rearview mirror, her innocent face reflecting none of the confusion and frustration swirling inside him.

“Selene,” Eddie began, trying to keep his voice calm, “we need to talk about what happened today.”

Selene looked up, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Did you like talking to Sunshine, Daddy?”

Eddie sighed, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. “Selene, you told Sunshine that I wanted to talk to her about something important. Why did you do that?”

Selene’s face lit up with a proud smile. “Because you do! You told Uncle Steve you wanted someone to share your life with, and I thought Sunshine would be perfect!”

Eddie groaned inwardly, trying to suppress his irritation. “Sweetheart, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but you can’t just tell people things like that. It caused a big misunderstanding.”

Selene’s smile faded, replaced by a look of confusion. “But I just wanted to help.”

Eddie glanced at her again, his frustration evident but softened by her earnest expression. “I know you did, but grown-up stuff is complicated. You can’t just decide for someone else who they should be with.”

Selene’s eyes welled up with tears, her lower lip quivering. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I just wanted you to be happy.”

Eddie’s heart softened, his frustration melting away at the sight of her tears. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to look at her directly.

“Selene,” he said gently, reaching back to hold her tiny hand, “I know you want to help, and I love you for that. But finding someone special is something that has to happen naturally. You can’t force it or plan it.”

Selene sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I just thought Sunshine would make you smile like she makes me smile.”

Eddie smiled softly, squeezing her hand. “She’s a wonderful teacher, Selene, and I’m glad she makes you happy. But these things take time, and we have to let them happen on their own.”

Selene nodded slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Okay, Daddy. I’m really sorry.”

Eddie leaned over and kissed her forehead. “It’s okay, princess. Just promise me you won’t try to set me up with anyone again without talking to me first.”

Selene nodded earnestly. “I promise.”

Eddie started the car again, his heart feeling lighter. As they drove home, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the day’s events. Despite the awkwardness and frustration, he knew Selene’s intentions were pure. 

Later that night, Selene sat quietly in her room, her little mind racing with thoughts. The plan hadn’t gone as expected, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. There had to be another way to get her daddy and Sunshine together. She picked up her favorite stuffed animal, Mr. Whiskers, and hugged it tight as she brainstormed.

"What if Daddy invited Sunshine to dinner?" she whispered to Mr. Whiskers. "Maybe then they could talk and get to know each other better."

She nodded to herself, feeling a new wave of determination. Tomorrow, she would find a way to get Daddy to invite Sunshine over for dinner. But for now, it was time for dinner with Daddy.

Downstairs, Eddie was busy in the kitchen, preparing their usual Wednesday night spaghetti. The aroma of garlic and tomato sauce filled the air, making Selene’s stomach rumble. She hopped off her bed and made her way downstairs, her excitement momentarily forgotten as she thought about how much she loved spaghetti nights with her dad.

"Dinner’s almost ready, princess," Eddie called out as he stirred the pot. "Can you set the table for me?"

"Sure, Daddy!" Selene replied, grabbing the plates and silverware. She carefully set the table, making sure everything was perfect.

Eddie brought the pot over and began serving the spaghetti, a warm smile on his face as he watched Selene carefully placing the forks and spoons. They sat down together, the cozy kitchen a safe haven for the two of them.

As they ate, Selene decided to ask the question that had been lingering in her mind for a while. "Daddy, why don’t I have a mom?"

Eddie froze, the fork halfway to his mouth. He put it down slowly, taking a deep breath. This was a conversation he had known would come eventually, but it didn’t make it any easier. He looked at Selene, her big, innocent eyes staring up at him, waiting for an answer.

"Selene," he began softly, "your mom... well, she wasn’t ready to be a mom. When you were born, she decided that she couldn’t take care of you, so she left. It’s just been you and me ever since."

Selene’s eyes filled with confusion and sadness. "But why did she leave, Daddy? Wasn’t she happy to have me?"

Eddie’s heart ached at the sight of her tears. He moved his chair closer to hers and pulled her into his lap, holding her close. "It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. Your mom had her own problems and she made a choice. But I want you to know that you are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you more than anything in this world, and I wouldn’t trade our time together for anything."

Selene sniffled, burying her face in Eddie’s chest. "I love you too, Daddy. But sometimes I wish I had a mom like the other kids."

Eddie stroked her hair, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "I know, baby. I wish things were different too. But you have so many people who love you—Uncle Steve, Miss Sunshine, and all your friends at school. And no matter what, you’ll always have me."

Selene hugged him tighter, feeling the comfort of his embrace. "I know, Daddy. I’m glad I have you."

They sat there for a while, holding each other, finding solace in their shared love. Eddie knew he couldn’t change the past, but he was determined to give Selene the best future he could. And maybe, just maybe, things would start to look up for both of them.

Later that night, as Eddie tucked Selene into bed, she looked up at him with a determined expression. "Daddy, can we invite Sunshine to dinner? Maybe she’d like spaghetti too."

Eddie chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "We’ll see, princess. Let’s take things one step at a time, okay?"

Selene nodded, her eyes already drooping with sleep. "Okay, Daddy. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Selene," Eddie whispered, kissing her forehead. He turned off the light and closed the door, feeling a mix of hope and trepidation. Tomorrow was another day, and who knew what it might bring. But for now, he was grateful for the love he shared with his daughter, even if it was just the two of them against the world.

The next morning, Selene woke up with a renewed sense of determination. She jumped out of bed and dressed quickly in her favorite outfit—a bright yellow dress covered in tiny sunflowers. With a smile on her face, she ran downstairs to find Eddie already in the kitchen, flipping pancakes.

“Morning, Daddy!” she chirped, hopping onto her chair at the kitchen table.

Eddie turned around, a spatula in hand, and grinned at his daughter. “Morning, princess. You’re up early today.”

Selene beamed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “I wanted to see you before you go to work. Are you picking me up today?”

Eddie shook his head as he slid a pancake onto a plate and handed it to Selene. “Not today, sweetie. Auntie Robin’s going to pick you up, remember? I have a late shift.”

“Oh, right,” Selene said, her mind already racing with thoughts of her plan. “Daddy, can we go to school a little earlier today? I want to show you something.”

Eddie raised an eyebrow, curious. “Earlier? How early?”

“Like… really early,” Selene said, trying to sound casual. “Maybe before you usually leave for work?”

Eddie laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Alright, but not too early. I still need to get ready for work.”

Eddie pulled up to the school, glancing at the clock. They were a bit earlier than usual, but not by much. He parked the car and turned to Selene.

“Okay, we’re here. What did you want to show me?” he asked.

“Actually, Daddy, I just wanted to spend a little more time with you,” Selene said, giving him her most innocent smile.

Eddie’s heart melted. “Alright, let’s go inside.”

As they walked towards the school entrance, they spotted you, rushing around with a stack of papers in your hands. You looked frazzled and stressed, clearly having a hectic morning.

Selene tugged on Eddie’s hand. “Look, Daddy! There’s Sunshine!”

Eddie’s eyes widened. “Selene, wait—”

But it was too late. Selene had already run over to you, waving enthusiastically. “Hi, Sunshine!”

You looked up, startled. “Oh, hi Selene. Good morning, Mr. Munson.”

Eddie gave an awkward wave. “Morning. Sorry, we’re here a bit early today.”

You forced a smile, clearly in a rush. “It’s alright, but I’m kind of busy right now. I have a meeting to get to.”

Selene, undeterred, piped up. “Daddy wanted to talk to you again!”

Eddie’s face flushed with embarrassment and a hint of anger. “Selene, I didn’t—”

Just then, another teacher approached you, whispering urgently in your ear. You glanced at Eddie and Selene, then at your watch, your frustration mounting.

“I’m really sorry, but I need to go,” you said, trying to keep your voice calm. “Maybe another time?”

Eddie nodded, feeling awkward and out of place. “Yeah, of course. Sorry to bother you.”

As you turned to leave, Eddie realized that in his haste to follow Selene, he had parked his car in a way that was now blocking yours. You tried to get into your car, only to see that you couldn’t back out.

“Seriously?” you muttered under your breath, turning back to Eddie with a frown. “Mr. Munson, your car is blocking mine.”

Eddie’s face turned red, a mix of frustration and embarrassment boiling inside him. “Oh, crap. I’m so sorry. I’ll move it right now.”

You sighed, your frustration clear. “I’m going to be late for a really important meeting because of this.”

Eddie hurried to move his car, his movements jerky and tense. The damage was done; you were visibly upset, and he could feel the tension building. As soon as he reparked, you got into your car, throwing him one last irritated glance before driving off.

Selene stood by the curb, her face falling as she watched the scene unfold. Eddie walked back to her, his expression a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

“Daddy, I—”

Eddie cut her off, his tone harsher than he intended. “Selene, what were you thinking? You can’t just drag me over to talk to Sunshine.”

Selene’s eyes welled up with tears, her lower lip trembling. “I just wanted you to be happy, Daddy…”

Eddie’s anger softened, replaced by a pang of regret. He knelt down and pulled her into a hug, feeling her small body shake with sobs. “I know, baby. I know. But we need to think things through before we act. You can’t just spring stuff like this on people.”

Selene sniffled, nodding against his chest. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

Eddie sighed, rubbing her back gently. “It’s okay, Sel. Let’s just get you to class, alright? We’ll figure this out.”

As he walked Selene to her classroom, Eddie couldn’t shake the feeling of frustration and embarrassment. This wasn’t how he wanted things to go, and now he had made things even more awkward with you. The misunderstanding was only growing, and he worried about how they would ever get past it.

Later that day, Auntie Robin arrived to pick up Selene. She noticed Eddie’s tense expression and Selene’s subdued demeanor.

“What happened?” Robin asked, concerned.

Eddie sighed. “Long story. Selene tried to play matchmaker again, and it didn’t go well.”

Robin shook her head with a sympathetic smile. “Kids, huh? Don’t worry, dingus. It’ll work out eventually.”

Eddie nodded, hoping she was right. As he watched Robin drive away with Selene, he couldn’t help but wonder how he was going to fix this mess. And more importantly, how he could protect Selene’s heart in the process.

He spent the rest of the day feeling uneasy. As he went through his work shift, his mind kept drifting back to the incident at school. He couldn’t shake the image of your frustrated expression or Selene’s teary eyes. He knew he had to make things right.

During his lunch break, Eddie sat in the break room, staring at his phone. The idea of apologizing made his stomach churn with nerves, but he knew it was the right thing to do. He dialed Robin’s number, hoping for some advice.

“Hey, dingus! How’s it going?” Robin’s cheerful voice greeted him.

“Hey, Robin. I need your help with something,” Eddie replied, his voice heavy with the weight of his thoughts.

“Sure, what’s up?” she asked, sensing his seriousness.

Eddie took a deep breath. “It’s about this morning. Selene and I had a bit of a run-in with her teacher. It was really awkward and… I kind of snapped at Selene.”

Robin listened patiently as Eddie recounted the events of the morning. “Sounds like a rough start to the day,” she said sympathetically. “But hey, kids have big hearts and even bigger imaginations. Selene was just trying to help.”

“I know,” Eddie sighed. “I feel terrible. I need to apologize to her, but I just don’t know how to go about it.”

“Well,” Robin began thoughtfully, “why don’t you write her a note? Explain what happened and say you’re sorry. It’ll show you’re sincere.”

Eddie nodded, feeling a bit of relief at having a plan. “Thanks, Robin. I’ll do that.”

After work, Eddie picked up Selene from Robin’s house. As they drove home, Selene sat quietly in the back seat, her earlier enthusiasm dampened by the morning’s events.

“Hey, Sel,” Eddie said softly, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “I’m going to write a note to Miss Sunshine to apologize. Do you want to help me?”

Selene’s eyes brightened a little. “Can I draw a picture for her too?”

Eddie smiled. “That’s a great idea, princess. I’m sure she’d love that.”

Once they were home, Eddie and Selene sat at the kitchen table. Eddie began writing the note while Selene drew a colorful picture of their family, complete with you standing next to them with a big smile.

Eddie’s note:

"Dear Y/n,

I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding this morning. Selene and I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. She was just excited, and I didn’t handle the situation as well as I should have. I’m really sorry for blocking your car and making you late for your meeting.

Thank you for your understanding, and I hope we can move past this.

Sincerely, Eddie Munson"

Eddie read the note out loud to Selene, who nodded approvingly. “That sounds good, Daddy.”

“Alright, let’s put this together,” Eddie said, taping Selene’s drawing to the note. “We’ll give it to her tomorrow.”

The next morning, Eddie felt a mix of nervousness and anxiety as he and Selene arrived at the school. They waited until you had a free moment, then approached you with the note and drawing in hand.

“Hey,” Eddie began, his voice earnest. “I wanted to give you this. It’s an apology for yesterday.”

You took the note and drawing, your expression softening as you read Eddie’s heartfelt words and admired Selene’s artwork.

“Thank you, Mr. Munson,” you said, smiling at Selene. “And thank you, Selene, for the beautiful drawing.”

Eddie felt a wave of relief wash over him. “I’m really sorry for everything. It won’t happen again.”

You nodded, the tension between you easing. “I appreciate the apology. Let’s just start fresh, okay?”

Eddie smiled, feeling hopeful for the first time in days. “Sounds good to me. Have a great day, Miss Sunshine.”

The school day was moving along smoothly, but you couldn’t help but notice that Selene seemed quieter than usual. Typically, she was a bundle of energy, chatting with friends and eagerly participating in activities. Today, however, she was more subdued, her usual spark dimmed.

During arts and crafts time, Selene sat at her table, her crayons barely moving across the paper. You watched her for a moment, concern growing. Deciding to check in, you walked over and knelt beside her.

“Hey, Selene,” you said softly. “What are you drawing?”

She looked up at you with big, sad eyes. “I’m drawing my family,” she said quietly. On the paper, you saw a simple drawing of a house, with stick figures representing her and her dad. There was also a faint outline of a figure beside them, but it was left unfinished.

“That’s a lovely drawing,” you said, trying to encourage her. “Who’s that?” you asked, pointing to the unfinished figure.

Selene hesitated, her lip quivering. “I wanted to draw my mom, but I don’t really know what she looks like.”

Your heart ached for her. You knew from previous conversations with Eddie that Selene’s mother wasn’t in the picture, but seeing the impact it had on her was heartbreaking. You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay, Selene. Your drawing is beautiful just the way it is.”

She gave a small nod, but her eyes remained downcast. “I just wish I knew her,” she whispered.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “I know it’s hard, sweetie. But you have your dad, and he loves you very much. And you have all of us here, too.”

Selene offered a small smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks, Miss.”

The rest of the day, you kept an eye on her, making sure she felt included and supported. As the school day ended, you saw Eddie arrive to pick her up. You decided it might be a good idea to talk to him about Selene’s mood.

“Hi, Mr. Munson,” you greeted him as he approached.

“Hi,” he replied, managing a smile. “How was Selene today?”

You hesitated, not wanting to alarm him but feeling it was important to share. “She was a bit quieter than usual. I think she might be feeling a bit down.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed in concern. “Really? Did she say why?”

“She mentioned something about her mom,” you said gently. “I think she’s just having a hard time with it.”

Eddie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, she asked me about her mom other day, I tried to explain, but it’s tough. She doesn’t understand why her mom isn’t around.”

You nodded, understanding the difficult position he was in. “If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”

“Thanks,” Eddie said, his gratitude evident. “I appreciate it.”

As they walked away, you couldn’t help but feel a deep empathy for both Eddie and Selene.

Later that evening, as you prepared for bed, you couldn’t stop thinking about Selene’s sad eyes and Eddie’s worried expression. You resolved to keep an extra close eye on Selene in the coming days, doing whatever you could to bring a bit of sunshine back into her life.

Over the next few days, Selene’s sadness seemed to deepen. Her usually bright eyes were often downcast, and her infectious laughter was rarely heard. It was as if a cloud had settled over her, and it worried you deeply.

In class, she no longer eagerly raised her hand to answer questions or shared her imaginative stories with the group. She would sit quietly, barely engaging in activities that she used to love. During recess, instead of running around with her friends, she would find a quiet corner to sit and watch the other kids play.

One morning, as you were preparing for the day’s lessons, you noticed Selene sitting alone on the swings. She was gently swaying back and forth, her gaze fixed on the ground. You decided to take a moment to check on her.

“Hey, Sel,” you said softly, sitting on the swing next to her. “Do you want to talk about what’s been bothering you?”

Selene shrugged, not meeting your eyes. “I miss my mom,” she said quietly. “I don’t even know her, but I miss her.”

Your heart broke for her. “I know it’s really hard, sweetie. It’s okay to feel sad and miss someone, even if you haven’t met them.”

She nodded, her small hands gripping the chains of the swing tightly. “Daddy tries to make me feel better, but I can tell he’s sad too.”

You sighed, wishing there was more you could do to ease her pain. “You know, Selene, you have a lot of people who care about you. Your dad and all your friends here. We’re all here for you.”

She gave a small nod, but the sadness in her eyes remained.

Eddie was at his wit's end. He’d noticed the change in Selene’s behavior, and it tore him apart. She was his world, and seeing her so downcast made him feel helpless. Every evening, he tried to cheer her up with her favorite activities – watching Disney movies, playing dress-up, reading her favorite bedtime stories – but nothing seemed to lift her spirits.

One night, as he tucked her into bed, he tried to talk to her again. “Selene, sweetie, I can tell you’ve been really sad lately. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Selene looked up at him with teary eyes. “I just miss my mom, Daddy. I don’t understand why she’s not here.”

Eddie’s heart ached. He wished he could give her the answers she needed. “I know, sweetheart. I wish I could change things, but sometimes people make choices that hurt us, even if they don’t mean to.”

Selene sniffled, wiping her eyes. “Will she ever come back?”

Eddie swallowed hard, feeling the weight of her question. “I don’t know, Sel. But what I do know is that I love you more than anything, and I’m always going to be here for you.”

Selene nodded, her little face still filled with sadness. “I love you too, Daddy.”

As she drifted off to sleep, Eddie sat by her bedside, feeling a mixture of anger and sorrow. He hated that he couldn’t make things better for her, that he couldn’t erase the pain of her mother’s absence.

The following day, Eddie arrived at school early, looking more haggard than usual. You could see the worry etched on his face as he walked Selene to her classroom. After she settled in, he approached you, running a hand through his hair.

“Hey,” he began, his voice strained. “I’m really worried about Selene. She’s been so sad, and I don’t know what to do.”

You nodded, understanding his concern. “I’ve noticed it too. She’s been very quiet and withdrawn. Have you thought about maybe talking to a counselor? It might help her to have someone to talk to about her feelings.”

Eddie sighed, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, I’ve thought about it. I just want to fix it myself, you know? I hate seeing her like this.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But sometimes, we all need a little extra help. It doesn’t mean you’re not doing enough; it just means that there are people who can support you both.”

He nodded, looking down the hallway where Selene was sitting quietly at her desk. “I’ll think about it. Thanks, Y/n.”

As the days continued, you kept a close eye on Selene, doing your best to engage her in class and offering her extra support. 

As the days passed and Selene’s sadness persisted, an idea sparked in your mind. Maybe a change of scenery and a special treat would help lift her spirits. You approached Eddie one afternoon after school, catching him as he was picking up Selene from her classroom.

“Hey, Mr. Munson,” you greeted him with a warm smile. “I was thinking, maybe Selene could use a little outing to the park this weekend. How about we take her for some ice cream?”

Eddie looked at you, surprise flickering in his tired eyes. “Ice cream?”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! Sometimes a little treat and some fresh air can do wonders. What do you think?”

Eddie glanced down at Selene, who was quietly packing her backpack. He could see the traces of sadness lingering on her face. “I think that sounds like a great idea,” he said finally, offering you a grateful smile.

Eddie watched as Selene perked up at the mention of ice cream. Her eyes lit up with a spark of excitement that he hadn’t seen in days. He couldn’t remember the last time they had gone out for a treat like that together. Maybe this was just what she needed.

That weekend, Eddie and Selene met you at the park. The sun was shining brightly, casting a warm glow over the playground. Selene ran ahead, eager to explore the swings and slides while you and Eddie followed close behind.

“You’re really good with her, you know,” Eddie said as he watched Selene climb onto the swings.

You smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “She’s a special girl. Just trying to help.”

Eddie nodded, grateful for your support. “I appreciate it. And thanks for suggesting this. I think it’s just what she needed.”

As Selene laughed and played, her laughter echoing through the park, Eddie felt a weight lift off his shoulders. For the first time in days, he saw a glimmer of joy in her eyes. Maybe things would be okay after all.

Watching Selene laugh and play brought a sense of joy to your heart. She deserved moments like this – carefree and happy. You glanced at Eddie, seeing the relief on his face as he watched his daughter.

“I’m glad she’s enjoying herself,” you said softly, leaning closer to Eddie.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving Selene. “Yeah, me too. Thanks for suggesting this.”

“It’s my pleasure,” you replied sincerely. “If there’s anything else I can do to help, just let me know.”

Eddie turned to you, a grateful smile spreading across his face. “You’ve already done a lot. I appreciate it.”

As the afternoon wore on, you and Eddie joined Selene on the playground, pushing her on the swings and chasing her around the jungle gym. For a few hours, Selene’s sadness seemed to melt away, replaced by laughter and the simple joy of being a kid.

As the sun began to set, you all sat on a bench, enjoying the last rays of warmth. Eddie glanced at you, his eyes softening with gratitude. “Thanks for today,” he said quietly. “It meant a lot to both of us.”

You smiled warmly. “Anytime, Eddie. She’s lucky to have you.”

He nodded, a hint of emotion in his voice. “And we’re lucky to have you too.”

After their afternoon at the park, Eddie noticed a slight change in Selene. She seemed more like herself again, her laughter returning and a sparkle in her eyes. It gave him hope that maybe things were turning around.

That evening, as they settled in for dinner, Selene looked up at Eddie with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Daddy, can we invite Miss Y/n to come over for dinner sometime? And maybe we can watch Disney movies together?"

Eddie paused, caught off guard by Selene's request. He glanced at her, unsure of how to respond. The idea of spending more time with you outside of school was both appealing and nerve-wracking. But seeing the hopeful look on Selene's face, he couldn't bring himself to say no.

"Sure, Sel," Eddie replied with a small smile. "I can ask Miss Y/n if she'd like to join us sometime."

The next day at school, you were surprised when Eddie approached you after class. He seemed a bit nervous, scratching the back of his neck as he spoke.

"Hey, Y/n," Eddie started, his voice slightly hesitant. "So, uh, Selene mentioned something last night..."

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what Selene had said. "Oh? What did she say?"

Eddie cleared his throat, trying to keep his tone casual. "She asked if you would like to come over for dinner sometime. And maybe we could watch some Disney movies together."

Your heart warmed at Selene's invitation. "That sounds like a lot of fun, Eddie. I'd love to join you and Selene for dinner."

Eddie smiled, relief evident on his face. "Great. How about this Friday? I can cook something, and we can pick out a couple of Selene's favorite movies to watch."

You nodded, feeling excited about the prospect of spending more time with them outside of school. "Friday sounds perfect. I'm looking forward to it."

As you walked away, you couldn't help but smile to yourself. Selene's idea had sparked something hopeful in both Eddie and yourself.

Friday evening arrived faster than Eddie anticipated. He had spent the entire week trying to decide on a menu that would impress you without overdoing it. Cooking wasn't his forte, but for Selene's sake—and now yours—he was determined to make a good impression.

As he chopped vegetables in the kitchen, Selene sat at the dining table, coloring a picture of her favorite Disney princess. Eddie stole glances at her every now and then, grateful for her infectious enthusiasm that kept his nerves at bay.

"Daddy, are you nervous?" Selene suddenly asked, looking up from her drawing.

Eddie chuckled nervously, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "Maybe a little. I just want everything to go well tonight."

Selene smiled reassuringly. "Don't worry, Daddy. she likes you and me. She'll have fun."

Eddie's heart warmed at Selene's words. He hoped she was right. Just then, the doorbell rang, and Eddie felt a jolt of nerves shoot through him. Taking a deep breath, he hurried to answer it.

You stood nervously outside Eddie's door, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. Despite your efforts to remain calm, your heart raced with anticipation. You had been looking forward to this evening all week, eager to spend more time with Eddie and Selene outside of school.

When Eddie opened the door, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. He wore a simple button-up shirt and jeans, looking handsome and slightly flustered with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Hey, Y/n," Eddie greeted you warmly, though you detected a touch of nervousness in his voice.

"Hi, Eddie," you replied with a smile, trying to hide your own nerves. "I brought some dessert."

Eddie stepped aside to let you in, and you entered the cozy apartment, greeted by the inviting aroma of something delicious cooking in the kitchen. Selene rushed over, her face lighting up with excitement.

"Miss Y/n, you're here!" she exclaimed, hugging you tightly. "Come see what Daddy's making!"

You laughed, returning her hug warmly. "I can't wait to see, Selene."

As you followed Selene into the kitchen, Eddie busied himself with setting the table, stealing glances at you whenever he thought you weren't looking. He couldn't help but feel a mixture of nervousness and excitement at having you here with them.

"So, um, how was your day?" Eddie asked awkwardly, trying to make conversation as he stirred a pot on the stove.

You smiled, appreciating his effort. "It was good, thank you. How about you? Busy day at work?"

Eddie nodded, a hint of relief in his voice. "Yeah, pretty busy. But I managed to leave early to get everything ready."

The three of you settled into an easy rhythm, chatting and laughing as Eddie finished cooking. Selene eagerly showed you her latest drawings and told you all about her favorite Disney movies. Eddie couldn't help but notice how comfortable you seemed with them both, and it eased some of his initial nerves.

Finally, dinner was ready, and Eddie served up the meal he had prepared—a hearty pasta dish with a side of garlic bread. As you all sat down to eat, the conversation flowed naturally, filled with laughter and shared stories.

Eddie caught himself stealing glances at you throughout the evening, feeling a warmth spread through him every time your eyes met. He was grateful that Selene had suggested this, bringing you all together in a way that felt natural and comforting.

As the evening drew to a close, Eddie cleared the table while you and Selene curled up on the couch to watch a Disney movie. Eddie joined you both after cleaning up, sitting on the other end of the couch with a contented sigh.

As the movie played, Selene nestled against you, occasionally glancing up at Eddie with a knowing smile. 

After a delightful evening of dinner and Disney movies, Selene yawned and rubbed her eyes sleepily. "I'm tired, Daddy," she murmured, pushing herself up from the couch.

Eddie smiled warmly at her. "Alright, princess. Time for bed."

Selene nodded, giving you a sleepy wave. "Goodnight, Sunshine. Thanks for coming over."

You returned her wave with a gentle smile. "Goodnight, Selene. It was my pleasure."

As Selene disappeared into her room, Eddie settled back on the couch, his expression relaxed yet thoughtful. He glanced at you, a slight nervousness evident in his eyes.

"That was... really nice," Eddie said, breaking the quiet that had settled over them.

You nodded, feeling a sense of contentment in the air. "Yeah, it was. Selene's a sweet kid."

Eddie chuckled softly. "She is. And she really likes you, you know."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words. "I like her too."

There was a brief pause as Eddie seemed to gather his thoughts. Finally, he spoke again, his voice soft but determined. "Y/n, I... I've been wanting to ask you something."

Your heart skipped a beat, sensing the seriousness in Eddie's tone. "What is it, Eddie?"

He met your gaze, his eyes searching yours. "Would you... would you like to go out with me sometime? Just the two of us?"

You felt a rush of emotions—surprise, happiness, and a touch of nervousness. But above all, there was a genuine warmth in Eddie's request that made your decision easy.

"I'd love to, Eddie," you replied sincerely, a smile spreading across your face. "I'd really like that."

Relief washed over Eddie's features, followed by a shy smile. "Great. How about we plan something for next weekend?"

You nodded eagerly. "That sounds perfect."

You realized it was late and got up to leave, at the door, Eddie's nervousness melted away as he leaned in slightly, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek. It was brief but filled with unspoken warmth and the promise of more to come. You smiled softly at him, feeling a rush of happiness as you realized this was the beginning of something special between you.

"Goodnight, Sunshine," Eddie murmured, his voice tinged with affection.

"Goodnight, Eddie," you replied softly, your heart fluttering with anticipation for the days ahead.

It was a perfect end to a memorable evening, and you couldn't wait to see what the future held for all three of you.

Taglist: @birdysaturne @ali-r3n @maedesculpaeusoubi @borhapparker @peachysink @jadeylovesmarvelxo @marvelcasey05 @micheledawn1975 @kissmyacid @bells-28 @gagasbee @mykuup @happilyeverafterforme @missingbillyhargrove

[reginnaofallwaters]

☆ HONKAI: STAR RAIL

things that changed since they met you (gn!reader)

featuring: argenti, blade, dan heng, jing yuan

a/n: first time writing for blade and dan heng. might be ooc? oopsie. some of the guys already have an established relationship and some don't :>

☆ ARGENTI

He finds himself falling silent as he admires your beauty.

Argenti is a man of many words. If there is one thing he never runs out of, it's compliments. Constant, sincere compliments stream forth from his lips like a waterfall everytime he sees you. In his eyes, there are so many words in this universe that he can use to describe your beauty. He genuinely loves you and what better way to show it other than the blush-inducing and cheesy compliments he constantly gives?

However, there are times where he falls silent as he gazes at you when you two would be cuddling or you're doing something. It feels a little.. odd sometimes. There's no sudden compliments that are thrown your way or praises sung to your name. It's these moments where he is silent when his gaze is so intense— his emerald eyes practically swimming with devotion and so, so much love for you.

When you softly chuckle and ask why he's staring, he'd only shoot you a charming smile like the lovesick fool he is. He'd tell you it's nothing to worry about, that he's simply appreciating you.

Argenti's praises for you never end but sometimes, beauty is best appreciated in silence.

☆ BLADE

The mara in him dwindles a little by your side.

Immortality comes with a price, Blade learnt that the hard way. Now an immortal, unable to die, and stricken with mara that slowly eats away at his mind, he has to rely on Kafka's Spirit Whisper to keep his mind intact— to keep himself sane. A part of him envies the short-lived, you know. One day, they will get to experience the release he craves so desperately.

Being mara-struck is difficult. Memories of his past always return to haunt him, driving him mad. That's where you come along. Though he's distant, he finds comfort in your presence. Something about you feels safe and warm, helping his mind to ease, to forget the past memories that bubbles in his mind. With you, he feels as though the mara takes a lesser toll in his mind.

He doesn't know why he finds your presence so comforting, but he does know that he needs to keep you safe, though you're perfectly capable of handling yourself. Blade doesn't get too close to you at first, but he keeps an eye on you.

Blade knows that eventually, he'll meet his end– his release, and he doesn't want you to see him go after getting close to you.

☆ DAN HENG

His shy side comes out more often.

Dan Heng isn't the type to openly express his emotions like March 7th. He doesn't have a problem expressing his feelings, he's simply too reserved. Attempting to make Dan Heng laugh, blush, or cry will usually result in a very unimpressed expression gracing his features, which is somehow funnier than trying to make him express the three aforementioned emotions (The Trailblazer told you all about this little experiment with Dan Heng's range of emotions. You aren't too sure what to do with this information, honestly).

Amidst March 7th and the Trailblazer's (failed) attempts in making Dan Heng blush, you discreetly smile to yourself as you send a knowing glance in his direction, which is then returned with a narrowed glare from the man. Little do they know just how ridiculously easy it is to make Dan Heng flush like a tomato.

A surprise kiss on the lips gets him blinking in surprise and you relish in the way his cheeks slowly start to pink as he averts his gaze from you, muttering about something that you can't quite catch. He trusts you the most to.show these emotions of his that others rarely witness themselves. It doesn't matter to him if you tease him to death (much to his disappointment) or kiss him so much til he can't say a single word, as long as it's you.

He'd rather not let the others know though.

☆ JING YUAN

He allows himself to be vulnerable.

Being the Luofu's General is difficult. Though everyone calls him by his moniker as the "Dozing General", Jing Yuan is far more cunning and careful than he lets on. Beneath the lazy smile playing on his lips and the sleepy personality he shows, Jing Yuan never shows an ounce of vulnerability. He never lets his true thoughts and feelings slip. Unfortunately, Jing Yuan has always been quite evasive literally and figuratively.

Very few know of the human lying beneath the surface of the Dozing General. To be honest, Jing Yuan isn't the type to tell you, his partner, his problems either. It's his own way of protecting you from the dangers that the Xianzhou faces. That's why his vulnerability is all the more special to you. It's a testament to the trust he has in you. Though Jing Yuan has many allies, there are very few who know what he truly is thinking and feeling.

He doesn't say that he's worried, no. Instead, he seeks you out, pulling you in a tight embrace, a silent plea for you to stay– to comfort him for a little while. Each time, you oblige, leading him to somewhere more secluded and private so he can cuddle you to his heart's content. Nothing is said, but the atmosphere is comfortable and safe. Nothing is heard except for the soft chirps of the finches hiding in his hair and the content sighs that leaves his dry lips.

Until he gets his energy back, he'll allow himself to be vulnerable around you. Just for today.

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

aus that I always ALWAYS eat up are regency/nobility aus

but an au that I crave but haven't seen is a viking/nobility, but in the sense of "here is a random man I found injured in the woods... my new husband 😍" this feeds off the "I will give you everything I've ever had and more" yk

anon?? thank you for spreading the good word. this is genius and i am shocked it doesn't see more use. you could try this in a number of historical settings and different genres, combine it with different tropes, spin it several ways. also tasty as hell.

gives me strong courtly love vibes--that thing in Arthurian romances/literature; the whole "i am wholly devoted to you past the point of deep passionate romantic love all the way to worship, but can and will never touch you because our stations and other social factors keep us from consummating our relationship; however i will lay down my life for you at every conceivable opportunity and if anything happens to you there will be hell to pay a thousand times over" thing. big big Guinevere and Lancelot trope.

like the idea of you, noblewoman reader, finding this man injured in the woods--handsome man, but has some blood and dirt smeared on him and a wild look in his eye. something is off about him, you know it, but you ignore it because this poor thing hasn't eaten in weeks, he's injured, he ran his horse to death just to escape the circumstances that tried to follow him here. and because the moment you offer to help him instead of turning him in, he looks at you like you're heaven-sent. like an angel.

he lets you lead him by the hand back to town, back to your home (manor, castle, what have you). your friends, neighbors, ladies in waiting see him and almost panic. they're beside themselves trying to warn you about this frankly feral- and haunted-looking man who is gripping your hand like a lifeline but looks like he'll tear the throat out of anyone else who comes too close. you wave them off and take him inside, have a room prepared, a bath drawn, clothes bought. his guest room is nicer than most homes but he never seems to stay there. always seems to find his way back to wherever you are. lurks there until you call him closer to you. this causes everyone else give you a wide berth. that's fine with him.

later, you ask him where his home is and when he plans to return. you say you'll send him off with a new horse, with money, with nice things (things you hope he'll remember you by). instantly he swears his life to you because with you is his place now. you plead with him to reconsider, doesn't he have a family, someone who misses him, didn't he leave anything behind--but he refuses to talk about where he came from. he refuses to talk about what brought him to those woods in the first place, what made him desperate enough to leave his earthly belongings behind and run his horse to death.

he gives his life to you. motherfucker is scary as all hell but he looks at you like he'd die and kill for you. and he would. and he will.

bonus points if you're already married to a man who doesn't treat you well and your new knight/bodyguard immediately knows he'll be solving that problem shortly <3

...

masterlist tag

[prettyboykatsuki]

✭— gn!reader + sfw + arranged marriage.

He doesn't remember much of his ex-lovers. Only that they hated Sae enough to throw lukewarm coffee at him and ruin his white sweater.

And only that they told him a variety of crude, terrible things. Most of them jabs at his career, softened at the ends with words of sadness and melancholy. His first relationship started the same way it finished, empty and obligatory.

Only one thing really sticks out to him. That at the end, the person he'd been with with for nearly a year told him they'd never met someone so incapable of loving before.

Sae wonders about that.

It didn't hurt at the time. It was an inevitable end to a relationship he didn't pay any real attention to. He doesn't even remember their birthday. The world was narrow when he was 22. He has enough self-awareness to know he's always been self-centered when it comes to his career, so it's no surprise a once meaningful relationship fell through the cracks.

Sae doesn't really understand how other people move through life and feel. He has feelings but they're reactive and sometimes misplaced. He gets angry, irritated, or pleased and contented. But the way even his little brother feels so intensely, with such visceral anger or such deep melancholy is foreign.

Sae is a serious character. And he isn't unfeeling or unsympathetic. He has morals and principles. He's human.

But that kind of bone-deep, all-consuming emotion that seems to haunt so many people is foreign. If something is unpleasant, try to fix it. If something can't be fixed, let it go. Worry about the things you can change. Be a good son. Try to be the kind of brother that can make your little brother grow. Be cocky only if it's well deserved. Be even colder because the world is unforgiving, and steel yourself for when it inevitably hammers in your ineptness.

Sae is stoic. In the traditional sense. He's never thought about love. He thought he'd meet someone like him with time. Someone who wants a life of luxury and looks good in the papers - and that he'd spend the rest of his life with someone he tolerates because the thought of loving another person is odd at best. They'd have a hotshot career and Sae would meet them at a fancy dinner party. They'd chat a bit, get to know each other.

And Sae would like them, enough to put it on paper. It'd be mediocre and uninteresting. Born from a sense of duty.

A life full of something like love - is unimaginable. It's an intangible idea, to love someone like they write in songs.

When his mother called him from Japan, said that there was someone she'd like him to meet - he already knew what it was. He was at that age now. 29 and single. It could only mean an arranged marriage.

Sae goes, because he has nothing to lose. He's been single for 7 years. And he's a devoted son who always does what he's told.

Sae meets you with no expectations. Not one to hold you to. You'd be a nice person he's sure - maybe someone who wants to be a homemaker. Polite. Tolerable. Lukewarm like that turns to wedding rings.

The first time Itoshi Sae met you - you arrived late to the coffee date. You came to him panting and out of breath, clumsily rambling about your experience trying to chase down the subway to make it in the nick of time. You rambled on and on, and ordered coffee by waving your hand at someone and talking to them too.

And when you realized he hadn't gotten a word in, you stopped and flushed and apologized so profusely that he found himself smiling. Laughing a little, really - under his breath. He made a comment to tease you about it.

Koi No Yokan, a Japanese saying with no real translatable equivalent. The premonition of love. It means to meet someone and know you will love them inevitably. Not fate, exactly.

But to meet someone that is impossible not to be adored by you. To connect with someone and think you will love them. The realization is off-putting and abstract but even now when Sae is asked.

When did you know they were the one?

His reply is always the same - a small smile and look of familiar mirth.

Since the beginning. It just felt right.

Sae asks you to a second date. And a third, and a fourth before finally asking to be official. Sae learns quickly that there are in fact people in the world who exist like they're made to be loved. Or at least, there is someone in this world he was going to come to love all along.

It turns out - love is less complicated than he'd originally thought. That there are people who see you for who you are and love anyways. Sae doesn't know what you see in him exactly. You're a regular civilian, a regular job. A simple, simple life. None of his accolades mean much to you - though you do always express how cool it is.

They're not words that carry weight because of what they are. Rather, they mean something because of him. It matters to you, because Sae matters to you. And somehow, somehow he just knows that. There is doubt, but only sometimes.

There is hope but always. Always.

You can't identify the difference between designer brands and all your shoes are from the bargain bin except your formal ones. You like to toss coins in fish ponds and close your eyes extra tight when you wish. You always look at the moon - every night when he drives.

Tell him in all sorts of voices about how beautiful the moon is. How you miss the country side, and that there's too much light pollution in Tokyo. He thinks the term down-to-earth suits you well.

But in the kind of way that makes Sae feels a little more grounded. He envies it sometimes. That you manage to shine so brightly and be so good without having to try at all. He envies that you seem to have been born so loveable, so warm.

You love Sae. But Sae knows, deep down - he loves you impossibly more. All the things he once thought to be trivial and pointless get their own color in his busy calendar. He travels and thinks of you - writes locations down with your name. Smiles to himself when he thinks of how brightly your eyes would shine taking in the worlds wonders.

Sae bets that you'd be the same everywhere. Whether in Tokyo or London or Madrid or Chicago or Shanghai - that you'd tug at him and tell him to look up to the beautiful views above. He'd bet you buy sunflower seeds to feed ducks just like you do now, thousands of miles from home.

He bets you'd cry and weep about things he gives you, fluster yourself trying to be grateful. He'd have to wipe the tears of your face, put you to rest in his arms. Let you tuck yourself into his neck and sleep long and sniffly.

Sae loves you more because he'd let you. He hopes the mascara you bough from 7/11 ruins his stupid Dior sweater. He'd die before even thinking about dry-cleaning it. He's sure he'd just keep it in his closet and touch the sleeve every time he's too far from home.

He says it sometimes. Says love you and miss you in those breaths that feel sturdy enough to carry something so heavy. But you, just like him, just seem to know that he loves you. There is doubt, but the days come where you find yourself sleeping in his arms and there's hope again.

He wonders if he'd been incapable of loving. Maybe being around someone so easy to love solved it. It feels like a pin-prick wound. Like one day, he cut himself on the edge of your smile and has been pouring all the things spilling out into you.

He thinks his mostly the same. Intolerable, and arrogant, and unfeeling for better or for worse. He doesn't feel so all consumed. He doesn't feel blinded by the feeling of love. Nothing about it is overwhelming.

He think that maybe the absence of joy goes unnoticed when nothing truly moves you. All Sae can say for certain about anything is this - that if you were to disappear from his life, he'd surely never be able to look at the moon the same. And that he'd always keep sunflower seeds just incase.

Itoshi Sae. 29 years old. Professional Midfielder for Real Madrid CF. Married.

Sae wakes up bright and early, to see you next to him. You crinkle your face as the warmth hits your eyes. Stirring awake to look at him, you yawn then smile.

"Morning," You saying, clinging closely and peering out at the sun "The sun is so bright today.

He looks straight at you and smiles - barely there.

"Very bright."

[justwinginglife]

Always You

Based off of the song "Dream" by one of my fav artists ever, Keshi. Definitely check him out if you don't know him, his songs are so good.

There was a limit to how much one could lie to themselves, how much one could distract themselves. And Soshiro was hitting his.

He'd been dating the same woman for 5 years, and they were a happy 5 years. They were filled with love and adoration. Communication was never an issue. Romance never died, he made sure of that. He'd take her out for a date at least once a week, even despite both of their busy schedules. And the sex- the sex was great. It was the perfect relationship. Or it would've been. But it wasn't you.

She had finally given him an ultimatum- he needed to marry her or take his indecisive ass elsewhere.

For 5 years, he thought he could do it. He imagined marrying her, giving her kids, chasing them through the backyard, teaching them how to drive, walking them down the aisle. He knew if he married her, she'd be the best wife. She'd be supportive, be encouraging, be strong, be gentle, be everything he needed her to be exactly when he needed her to be it. And he wanted to need her. He wanted to want her. But she wasn't you.

He did end up buying a ring eventually. But when he pictured himself getting down on one knee, it wasn't her that he imagined gazing down at him fondly in his dreams. It was you. You, holding your hand out to him, all giddy as he slides the ring on you. You, calling everyone you know, to tell them you just got engaged to the love of your life. You, kissing him incessantly as he picks you up and spins you around and around in happy circles.

He never told her about all the times he thought of you, of course. You were a ghost from his past. It wasn't even like he thought about you all the time. He was a good man, he would devote his entire self, or he would try to at least, to one person for the rest of his days. And right now, that person was her. But some nights, when the drink hit a little too hard, when he was a little too alone, he'd think of you. You were a nightmare, come back to haunt him. But you were the most gorgeous nightmare he'd ever seen. It killed him to fight off the mirage of you. But he'd do it for her. He'd push the image of you away so many times that he'd hope he'd forget what you looked like.

But his lips couldn't forget what yours tasted like, even after all these years. He couldn't forget the crinkle of your eyes when you smiled. Couldn't forget the sight of you laid beneath him. Couldn't forget the sounds you made. The sounds he coaxed from you. It seemed like all he did to forget you just provoked your ghost to keep appearing.

At first, he could just lose himself in her. She did make him happy after all. He didn't have to be stuck on you, didn't have to even remember you. But the more she talked of a future with him, the less he wanted that future with her. And then, more and more, he'd begun to think of you so frequently that he didn't even recognize the woman beside him in bed anymore. It wasn't something he could fight, because he had tried to fight these feelings before, but this time it was a fast-acting poison. It was something that had taken hold of him, paralyzed him before he could even remember how to struggle.

She'd tell him where she wanted to honeymoon and instead, he'd remember all the vacations he'd taken with you in the past, all the little slices of paradise he'd been privy to just because he was with you. He could find paradise in a shitty back alley somewhere if you were with him. But you weren't with him anymore. She was. She'd tell him about the house she wanted to buy, and his ears just wouldn't hear her. He'd remember instead how you told him you didn't care what kind of house the two of you shared as long as you could raise up a garden nearby. And when she told him she hoped he'd give her sons, he thought about how you always wanted daughters. You'd even picked out all their names already, you were so sure you were going to be the one for him. He was sure you were going to be the one for him too.

How did it come to this? How could happiness land itself in his lap and yet be unrecognizable if it wasn't you? She was everything he'd ever wanted. He wanted her to be the one so badly. But she wasn't. It was you. It was always only ever you.

When he fidgeted with the ring box in his hand, contemplating how to tell her he couldn't marry her, he noticed that even the ring he'd chosen was for you. It was gold. She hated gold. But you loved it. He wasn't sure how he'd gone into the shop with her in mind and came out with something that could only be for you.

Suddenly, he felt he deserved the gaping hole in his heart that came from losing you. Every stabbing pain, every aching regret, he deserved them all. He didn't deserve to be happy. He felt like such a terrible person, forcing someone (a good someone, a kind someone) to waste half a decade on him when his heart had only ever been yours to begin with.

Of course, he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been happy with her, after all. How could he know that you'd still have a chokehold on his heart? That you'd still visit him in his dreams, in his lowest moments, in the darkest of nights. That even when his mind told him he'd moved on, his heart stayed rooted in place. He thought he'd at least given her something of himself, even just a little bit, after all these years, but now he knew that every single part of him was always only ever yours.

And now that he knew, now that he remembered what you were to him, what you are to him, he didn't ever want to stop thinking of you. Didn't want to lie to himself anymore, or pretend. He didn't want to know a version of himself that wasn't yours.

So he finally set her free, and set himself free in the process.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 38: Alexander's Sire

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September 1925

TW: Captivity, mind control, mentions of abuse and murder

The fireplace crackled cheerfully as Oliver's anxiety rose. "Your sire is the one who turned you from human to vampire, right, sir?"

"Yes. And in the process, a connection is established from sire to sired. A vampire's sire can communicate telepathically with their spawn, and a sired must carry out their sire's direct commands. In some ways, I'm also a thrall, of sorts."

"And your sire is dangerous, sir?"

"Dangerous isn't even the half of it," said Alexander. "Are you certain you wish to hear it? It will cause you nothing but anxiety over a problem you won't be able to solve."

"I'm quite used to anxiety over problems I can't solve, sir." Oliver knew very well that not knowing what this mysterious sire might do would drive him to insanity with fear regardless.

"I was chosen because of my lineage. My sire believed that I would have the power to be a great vampire lord. Enthrall a whole manor's worth of humans, bend vampire society to my aims, as he enjoys doing -- except I would be firmly under his thumb. A useful general in his insatiable quest for power and perfection."

"You don't seem to be doing that, sir."

"No, indeed. I was born with power, as he hoped, but I resisted his influence more than he expected. I've largely secluded myself and devoted my life to studies, rather than enslaving humans and pursuing my sire's aims. That's why I only keep one thrall, as a general rule, instead of a mansion full."

Oliver felt he was beginning to see the picture. "And your sire is not pleased with that state of affairs, Master?"

"Naturally, he isn't. He uses his connection to torment me with nightmares, intrusive thoughts... commands I don't wish to carry out..." 

Something clicked in Oliver's mind, gears turning despite the slowness imposed on him by enthrallment. "You..." He almost didn't want to say it, but he did ask to know the truth. "Were you forced to hurt your thralls, sir?"

Alexander looked haunted, his expression saying everything that needed to be said. "I did warn you against asking questions you would not like the answer to."

"Are you... were you... did he make you kill..." Oliver fought down the urge to flee from the room right then and there. "What are you going to do to me? Are you going to --"

"No," said Alexander firmly.

"How can you know that, sir? If your sire can force you at any time --"

"He won't. Not with you."

"I don't -- " Any semblance of calm had evaporated, as a far more primal instinct was rising in Oliver. "Sir, I don't want to die. Please don't kill me, sir, please --"

"Quiet, Oliver," said Alexander. "Be quiet now." 

Oliver's sensible panic began to dissipate against his will, as the command swallowed his mind and he slumped against Alexander. "Please, sir..." he said miserably.

"My sire will not kill you, nor will he make me kill you. I'm certain of that," he said, pulling Oliver close and running his fingers through his hair. "You're too..."

"Too what, sir?"

"...Too perfect. Obedient, docile, and exactly to his tastes. No, he'll certainly keep you alive, that I'm sure of."

As scared as Oliver was of dying, he didn't like the implications in his master's voice. There were many fates worse than death. He thought he'd escaped one at the auction house, but had he actually found himself in a worse trap? "What will he do with me, then, sir?"

His master thought for a long time, so long that Oliver feared he would not answer at all. "You'll be fine, Oliver," he said. "I'm going to make sure of it. I have a plan, I think." He pushed a lock of hair from Oliver's face, looking intently into his eyes. "You're stronger than you believe yourself to be. You may be the thrall that can break the cycle."

"Sir -- Master, I don't understand --"

"But that's putting far too much on you. I'm going to have to find a way to protect you permanently. To protect us both. That's all there is to it. I've been getting closer, but..."

Oliver leaned into his master's cold touch, craving that protection even through his fear. "So is that the reason, then, why you didn't want to take another thrall, sir? Because you were searching for a way to protect them?"

"Yes, that's more or less the reason. I thought I could find a way to defy my master before claiming you, and then we would both have a much happier existence. Unfortunately, leaving you to get bought by Jameson would have been no better for you. His torments are relentless, and your mind would have been destroyed at the outset. At least I can do my best to give you a comfortable life when my sire's attention is turned elsewhere."

Oliver nodded. Those were the only choices, weren't they? Be purchased by Alexander or by Jameson. Even now that he knew more of the danger lurking in his master's home, he still preferred Alexander without question. The prospect of nebulous future torment was nothing compared to the certain promise of memory erasure and illiteracy.

But were those truly the only two choices...?

Something was bubbling in Oliver's chest, something fighting to get free of the nets of control placed on his mind. 

He could let me go.

No -- he tried to push the traitorous thought from his mind. He knew how much his master needed him. How could he think...

He's going to hurt me. He might even kill me. And if my master doesn't, his sire will.

Surely he wouldn't actually...

If he were an honest man, if he cared about my wellbeing, he would let me go.

Oliver felt himself tremble from the conflict inside his head, self-preservation forcing his mind out of its fog. That's right, vampires had kidnapped him for money and blood. How had he pushed that so far from his thoughts? Was his master really any different from them? Didn't he admit to keeping Oliver for his own selfish needs?

If he truly cared, he would let Oliver go, or spirit him away so that he would be safe.

But Alexander clearly wasn't planning on doing that. He had to go himself. He had to find a way to escape this vampire and this manor while he was still awake, before the thrall took him whole. Even now, just thinking of such a betrayal was almost impossible.

"Oliver, quiet."

Oliver's hands dropped from his face as artificial tranquility washed over him.

"I need to hear what's going through your mind," said his master. "I promise I won't be angry with you, even if it is terrible. Even if you wanted to kill me."

"No -- no, sir, I wouldn't -- " 

"Even so." 

His master gently stroked his temples, humming something under his breath. Oliver felt himself sinking into a daze. "No, please. Please don't do this." The song filled his mind, coaxing it back into a trance, tunneling his focus onto what Alexander wanted. The truth...

"If I'm in danger here, sir," he said, the words being drawn out of him as if by a string, "why don't you let me go?"

Alexander drew back, and Oliver felt both the sharp pang of his sudden absence and the words he'd just said. "I'm sorry, sir! I'm so sorry I thought that -- I'm not going to try to escape, sir, I promise -- "

His master let out a loud, mirthless laugh. "Let you go. Yes. Yes, indeed. Yes, I should do that, shouldn't I? Just let you go. It's all so simple."

Oliver looked at him with pleading eyes. "...You would...?" he said.

"My sire already knows that I've bought a new and most delectable thrall, thanks to the public display of it I had to make at the auction house. Do you think he would simply let you go?" said Alexander, his voice chilling. "Or do you think he'd hunt us down and make sport of us both?"

"He would do that, sir?"

"He'd do that and worse. At least here in my mansion I can afford you all the protection I can muster, and work towards us both being free of him," said Alexander.

Oliver slowly nodded, his conviction fading. Yes, here in his master's mansion, that's where he could be safe.

His master began softly stroking his hair once more, allowing Oliver to rest against his chest. "I've troubled you too much with this conversation. You need to relax. You are safe here."

"But --" Oliver's mind struggled against the warm undertow of Alexander's soothing voice. 

"You need to relax," said Alexander again, his voice deep and low. "Relax, and allow me to take care of you. You will trust me. I will not harm you of my own free will."

All of the conditioning was tugging at Oliver's mind. He wanted to trust Alexander so much. He wanted to sink back under the waves of enthrallment. He wanted it all to be so simple -- that he could have his master and his books and his little comforts, and feed his master when called upon, and not have to concern himself with threats. 

But he couldn't help but imagine Alexander's face twisting, the gentle vampire becoming the terrifying monster he'd feared, and shuddered.

"Relax. Be calm. Your worries will not help you. This problem is for me to solve." Alexander's voice was like a sweet lullaby. "Let your anxiety go, feel it fade, fall back into the warm ocean of obedience and bliss. Be quiet, Oliver."

He was right. Worrying about it would not help. And he was safe here, at least for now, here in the warm library with the smell of old books and the crackling fire. He let himself relax, let the nightmare visions fade from his mind. "Yes, master," he said, tension leaving his muscles.

His master began to hum, a tune that further drained Oliver of his tension, a song to ease his fear and help him relax. There was only the briefest of struggles in Oliver's mind before he welcomed it in.

He was safe, wasn't he? He felt so safe, here in the library by the fire. His master wouldn't harm him. His master would protect him.

"Good, Oliver," said Alexander, and the praise made Oliver feel pleasantly fuzzy. "And I want you to know -- I will not be setting you free. I will never be setting you free."

Sinking deeply into Alexander's power, his sudden, desperate need to escape from just a few minutes ago now felt so distant. "You won't, sir?"

"Your blood and your company are both too appealing to ever let you go. I'd be a fool to allow my sire to ruin you, and I've had enough regrets in my long life without adding that one to it." Alexander stroked Oliver's hair so gently. 

"But... but your sire..." The last scraps of his sensible fear were slipping from his grasp, his mind fogging. "What if..."

"You're perfect, Oliver, don't you see? The perfect thrall in every way. I didn't think I would ever have you, but now that I do... I need you. You felt my need, didn't you?"

Oliver remembered it oh so clearly, the moment when their thoughts had mingled and he felt the strength flowing back into his master. He'd felt so wanted, so needed, so helpful and useful. He'd do just about anything to feel that again. "Yes, sir, I do." His master stroked his cheek tenderly, and Oliver leaned into the cold touch, letting his eyes fall shut.

"That's why I'm going to protect you the best I can. I swear on my grave I will. I won't fail this time."

It shouldn't be comforting. There should be nothing comforting about one vampire vowing to shield you from another, in order to protect the blood he craved. But Oliver wanted to believe, and his master's power made it easy.

It felt so natural to lean in closer to Alexander, so right when he fell softly into his master's lap, so comfortable as his master ran his hands through his hair and began to hum. There was something in the song making his eyes droop and his thoughts stop, but he couldn't mind being lulled asleep like this. Everything felt so cloudy...

"I think, perhaps, we could use something to lift the gloom," said Alexander. "Would you join me in the music room, allow me to play for you?"

Oliver's eyes opened, turning to look at his master. "That sounds lovely, sir."

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Next week: Fitz's life changes forever.

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[hobisfavoritespritecan]

All I Need

NIGEL BANYAI X READER ⚠️ Warnings: None ⚠️

You're wandering the streets of Bucharest at night when you come face-to-face with your "ex" husband, Nigel. There's a rekindling- even if only for a moment- where you realize he might be more intertwined in your life than you'd thought.

Disconcertment washes over your face like a flood when you see him walking forwards, in that haunting but familiar walk you'd grown used to. He was polished, as per usual, adorned with a dog printed button down and a cigarette lax between his teeth. The protruding fold of his shirt would be incomprehensible to passerby who didn't know of his hobbies, but to you, it was the imprint of a gun.

His eyes shifting up from the road he was walking down and meeting yours held you in a trance. There was something to be studied about the man's eyes; so full of agonizing self-inflicted sorrow that shone through the very core of his being and simmered into the rest of the world through his gaze. He was deeply saddened. But it was all under a mask of his he wore to wind through the mindless crowds so that there wasn't anything about his character to be discovered unless he'd wanted you to. His cheekbones shone under the streetlights with their summery glow making waves of blues and pinks and greens with the lights from overhead in the city. He was a Monet painting come to life, a landscape of colors washing away everyone else and drawing you inwards to where he stood, finally stopping amidst a puddle from rain fallen this morning. He was beautiful. But he was also dangerous.

You had finally stopped running from him long ago. That sadness he contained within himself had become ever so apparent throughout your relationship and spilled over into everything else. He tormented himself so deeply that it was only a matter of time before he tormented you.

Never with his touch, no. His touch had always been careful, predetermined. He would never have laid a hand on you that wasn't accepting or invited by the warmth in your features and your verbal acknowledgement. Even after long arguments where you'd fallen asleep on your side of the bed, turned away from him, he would caress you only with his mind.

Instead, his torment was his love. There was too much of it, too little of a mutual understanding of what was wrong and what was right. He had been too suffocating in his eternal vows to protect you and love you. And with this time period in your life- this new one you'd created for yourself- you couldn't suppress your desires of freedom. You'd allowed him to love you and whisk you away with his promises (which he'd kept, of course), but you'd never been able to experience the world, let alone the streets of Bucharest in the way you'd always wanted to- on your own.

But you had loved him. There was no denying that.

And despite all your efforts to push him away; to ask him to take his love and give it to someone more deserving, someone who'd understand his suffocating requests of social isolation and relationship devotion, he was always finding his way back to you. His heart seemed to have a mind of its own which never coincided with the work he performed or the crimes he'd commit.

And here you were, by the famous Hostel off the side streets of tourist-populated areas, staring at one another. Both of you with the impression that the other was a work of art, staring into one another's souls as if they had painted the landscapes themselves. You heard the faint chatter of those nearby; the drunks walking back home from a night out, stumbling over their feet and laughing with their partners holding them up. The children who'd been playing hopscotch despite their parent's wishes at this hour in the night. The sound of the rain from earlier dripping off the rooftops and onto the parked cars below. And through all the commotion, it was just Nigel and you.

He offered something to you that most people would never see in their lifetime from a man like him. A smile.

You sent one back through slightly teary eyes, hoping for a minute he would look into you the way you were looking into him and that he would understand your internal dismay. You'd never loved like you loved him. Ever. And that would be true for the rest of your life. Your relationship had been an amalgamation of every emotion and he brought out sides of you that you'd never prepared yourself to confront. It was beautiful. It was bittersweet. And it was over.

He knew. He knew you'd wanted nothing more than your freedom, which was the one thing he didn't know how to give you. Not even now. He knew it was at the expense of your own happiness, but he couldn't help himself to follow you around Bucharest even if you hadn't caught him in the act of doing so, such as tonight. He wanted to be in your life anyway you would let him and even though the former was preferred, he was okay with learning how to live on the outskirts of your heart while you lived on the very insides of his.

He'd follow you around Bucharest and he'd follow you around the world.

You shifted in your jacket, despite the summer air. Your eyes had gone from his to the subway opening a couple yards away, where you'd initially been heading. There was your apartment waiting for you, where you'd have your own melancholic isolation. It was a hop skip and a jump away from the man who'd been your husband for all the years prior.

An image came into your head just then. One of a faraway place, tucked into the crevices of your mind so far back you'd almost forgotten its existence entirely. A cool night in your city where he'd gone on a walk with you, wearing the same jacket you had on now. You had chopped your hair and dyed it bright orange following the news of your father's death. It was just a silly coping mechanism to you, but Nigel had smiled when he'd walked into your shared apartment and saw the brightly colored hair littering the floor tiles. He'd suggested a walk to get some fresh air, under the rainbow colored lights you'd grown so fond of.

That night, you were looking at the snowflakes falling from above, threatening them with your tongue to catch them in your mouth and have them melt against your lips. They refracted against the colors in the sky, a light magenta touching the clouds as far as the eyes could see. Shimmery eyeshadow caught in the corners of your eyes, making them appear to be even more wet and filled with sorrow than they were. Nigel was here for you though, admiring the way you turned around in the snow, over and over again as if you were the little dancing figurine hidden in a jewelry box.

He'd held you close to him as you cried the eyeshadow in streaks of black down your face, the orange seeming less bright and the snow feeling more cold. You hadn't felt the totality of his admiration for you until this night, where his hug wasn't more than just that. Before his presence became a prison. He smiled at you, one of those toothy grins only he was capable of managing.

And then, he let go. This was the only time he'd done so on his own accord, almost leaving you fighting to be back in his embrace. He turned to the subway, then to you and back to the subway before leaning in with a kiss,

"urmează-mă și te voi săruta."

And then he went racing off into the night towards the never stopping trains ahead. Smiling, you ran after him. Eyes still wet with the tears for your father and hair still orange from the impulsive chop. The wind whipped through it, leaving you with a coldness on the back of your neck you weren't used to. It felt freeing, though. Your first taste of freedom. Running after him, you saw the water from the other side of town, touching the sky and creating more of the pinky-blue color that Bucharest was full of. The snow crunched under your feet as you placed one in front of the other before the soles of your shoes hit the concrete steps leading underground. Nigel was only a few meters away, sliding down the poles in his dog button down he favorited.

And then suddenly you came to a halt as you crashed into him, stopping the chase almost as soon as you'd started it, in the middle of the busy underground station. You'd lost your balance ever so slightly but he held you upright, not letting you fall.

And suddenly your eyes were on his. There was such a beautiful agony within them. There was far more to this man than you'd ever know and his love would have no bounds. He was soft in the way he stared at you, mouth pressed into a smile as he really took you in with everything you were. Nothing was lost in translation as you looked at him, his soul instantly filling your own. Everything was slowing down but the two of you, seemingly lost in time to the rest of the world with the passing trains and people.

"I will never stop looking for you." He whispered softly. voice suddenly laced with concern.

You were confused, looking up at the man you'd known you'd be with for infinity. "I'm right here?" You questioned, wondering what the significance of his words could mean, if they were laced with an underlying hidden message as concealed as the man's identity himself.

He smiled once more. "I will never stop looking for your kind of love." He corrected himself and you felt your insides go fuzzy with a warm and loving feeling.

You smiled from across the street, towards the same junction you'd run down the first time he'd proposed a nighttime walk. This could get you into a lot of trouble, to hint at the idea of a potential rekindling with the man known to be a criminal. The man who'd offered you nothing but love, even if there was a side of toxicity it'd been served with.

It was at that moment that you deeply felt the confines of your freedom without him- and it felt suffocating.

You both locked eyes once again, and he had a look on his features as though he'd been reminiscing about the same memory. It was impossible for him to truly still want something with you after all this time, wouldn't it be? You had pushed him away countless times, over and over. Whenever you'd seen him in public since the official ending of everything, you'd never spared him more of a glance.

Fuck it.

"urmează-mă și te voi săruta." You whispered under your breath, figuring the future would be in whether or not he could read your lips, if he would have remembered that time from so long ago, if he still wanted to be with you. A tear fell from your eye and cascaded down your cheek almost as silently as you'd spoken his phrase, "Find me, and I will kiss you."

Not even a second later, you both sprinted towards the subway.

[porphyriosao3]

Day 20 - Nameless

Bilbo's second year in Erebor was full of all sorts of learning. The first year was - with Thorin trapped in his uneasy sickbed and all the reconstruction of basic functions - what Bilbo had been raised to describe as "a wash" and what the more earthy members of the Shire would refer to as "shite too hot to grow aught". A memory of Gaffer Chubb was curling his lips as he passed through the Upper Market. His thoughts were interrupted by a small pebble, who held a... something... out to him with both hands.

"For you," the child squeaked, with mum bowing behind. Good Lady of Trees, the poor thing was shaking! Using his new knowledge and hoping he was reading the signs right, Bilbo accepted the strange bundle of dark felted cloth and smiled.

"Why thank you, young sir," he said, praying again that his understanding of dwarven gendered dress was correct. Ah, and Mum's beams behind the boy indicated he was correct. "It's, er, lovely."

"Happy Feast to you, Lord," the mum said, corralling up her child with ease of long practice. "Wouldn't rest but he'd made you one." She smiled down at the boy fondly, and then - with the abruptness Bilbo had come to realize wasn't meant to be rude at all, but was just the dwarven way - nodded once and off they strode.

"You are both too kind," Bilbo called after them with a slightly bewildered smile. A flip of a hand indicated he'd been heard, and then they were gone. Eyeing the odd object he sighed and put it in the basket. All the dwarves thought him mad to do his own shopping but he had to get out of the royal halls occasionally or go mad. When he got back, he'd ask Thorin what the thing was.

+++

Thorin turned the odd, irregular thing over in his hands. What looked like legs of felt stuck out in odd directions, and odd floppy bits that could be anything. Shiny bits of glass slag made eyes, but they were stuck on wherever and with no rhyme nor reason. Bilbo thought it a bit disturbing, to be honest, though Thorin had a wistful smile. "What, er, what is it?" The hobbit asked, having explained the story of its origin to his husband.

"A binakhrâm," he replied, as though that explained anything. "A Nameless Thing. There's a story behind it, though I'm no scribe. Long ago when the world was young and the moon unstained, one of the deep-down Scouts in Gabilgathol took one of the Nameless Things that occasionally pass in the deepest places as a pet, or perhaps it took him as one. They worked together for many years, and those who saw it said that it had no symmetry nor shape save that which hurt the eye, and yet it guarded him fiercely and loved him as best it could." He set the cloth toy down and stroked it with a gentle fingertip. "It did not like the other dwarves, and would rarely come into the places where it might be seen by others, but it was honored by the whole of the Broadbeam clan for its devotion. It returned to the deeps when he died, taking his body with it, and those who saw it said the sorrow of the Nameless haunted them for the rest of their lives." He sighed, glancing up at Bilbo. "These toys are given and made for the Deepwinter Feast. They are a sign of devotion found in unexpected places, and enduring support." His soft smile was ruinously handsome. "All here know and love the Consort, and his efforts on our behalf."

Bilbo could feel himself flushing; he hadn't recognized the compliment but now it was being rather... well. "That's... terribly kind," he said weakly. "And a lovely story." He hoped his life with Thorin wouldn't be commemorated with small stuffed felt hobbits, but being enwrapped in a set of dwarven arms was sufficient distraction that the thought was allowed to fade.

[stargirl-writes]

devotion pt ii

pairing : f! reader x anakin skywalker word count : 1.7k masterlist | ao3 link

summary

this is a second part! check out the first one here! when you decided to sleep with anakin skywalker, you have set an arrangement to keep it purely physical. but it was getting harder to repress that you've fallen for him. and tonight, you aren't sure if you can keep seeing him in like this anymore.

tags : angst, hurt/comfort, pining

warnings : violence and blood

notes : ethel cain, you're held responsible for my obsession with relating everything to my religious trauma.

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated !

"Stay" The words were so strangled, they were no more than a whisper. A plead.

Anakin's eyes fixed on yours. Rage, terror, fright, they seem to be exhibiting all at the same time.

Your fingers felt cold. Every second he remains silent, the more your chest caves in. You can't breathe. A hollow was forming inside you, like a vacuum, and you were beginning to feel yourself succumbing to it.

After what seemed like an eternity, Anakin looked away, as if he could not trust his gaze to keep his shame hidden. You can't detect a trace of triumph in him. Instead, his force signature deeply emanated an unending sort of defeat.

When he left, you were left asunder. Heart ripped away from your ribcage. A bleeding lip because of the teeth that kept biting from all the hunger. A walking being defined by her rotten desires.

It felt like you scattered in a million pieces with no hopes of ever becoming whole again.

Perhaps this was your atonement.

You have sinned the very first moment you have thought you could have Anakin Skywalker. When you thought you could defy fates and take someone for your own. When you let yourself fall for your appetite of flesh.

It was horrific. To want to tell Anakin, come closer, without the curtain of skin and bones between.

He'll never be yours.

All that devotion, twists and repulses you, for it makes you violent.

And right now, you don't have the capacity to channel it. So it implodes. All the love you are wretchedly overpouring with, transforming into something corrosive in your blood.

Your days merged into this blur of emptiness and rage.

For the first time in a while, you have found yourself at the threshold of a church, praying to the Maker, himself. Your faith had always been to yourself. But now, at the feet of the altar, you begged the Maker for an explanation. To have him carry the weight, to make it feel less heavy, to make him forgive all you've become because you no longer can.

Anakin had been your greatest sin.

He was temptation incarnated into being.

Even your Jedi training reinforces detachment because being bound by possession is the most corrupting thing. One should only learn how to submit to non-submission.

You did not see Anakin for weeks until you've been recalled by the Council to a mission together.

You could not look him in the eye. The voice in your brain was shaming you constantly.

However, every fiber of your being was pulling you to him. Something intangible, magnetic.

On the way to your mission, you pondered on the question that kept haunting you: Why?

You knew Anakin was not free of the same burdens you carry.

He has quite a large display over his attachment to materials. His quarters are decorated with things that hold no monetary value, but remain sentimental to him. Every choice he makes is informed by the fact that he was once a slave.

You remembered he once told you that he thought he'd been too old to join the Jedi. That he thought, it was too late because he already had held attachments. To his mother, to his creations. To you.

You thought it all was intensified by his past. He had been someone else's possession before. And now that he had been allowed, he is free to keep things of sentiment. And he'd hoard them all with a ravenous grip.

So, the question remains; why?

Why would he not give in to love when you both knew he would have abandoned the Jedi order for you? He once drunkenly said so, anyway.

You could almost laugh at how pathetic your ideal image of happiness was. To be somebody's property. To be Anakin's.

You did not miss how Anakin deliberately placed you on a station far away from the frontlines. Or how he used his authority to order clone soldiers around you.

You could not even channel the energy to be angry at the implication. You were capable. You can handle yourself, so it was unclear what he meant by this action.

Despite Anakin being the embodiment of the force itself, he can never escape his mother's blood. His humanness. It manifests in small innocuous ways. Like how his fingers twitched before he left. He was scared. It took every ounce of dignity to not come after him.

He's clearly pushing you away.

Wielding your lightsaber felt easier. Now, your anger can channel itself one droid at a time. You cleared your station, and you pressed on your holo comm to check on Anakin.

Then— you felt it.

A violent thrash, refusing to be left unacknowledged.

The force. Anakin. But it had been more than that: a connection, an invisible hand trying to reach out, a bond that lacks words to describe.

The urgency of it made you feel nauseated. Without a second thought, you ran to Anakin's station. Disappearing into the rapid beat of your heart and the agony that envelops it.

Your agony transforms into action the moment you see Anakin standing by himself against a platoon of droids. You wanted to be angry, he should've left with more clones. It was like he was asking for death.

But you pushed all feelings aside as you sprinted beside him, barely deflecting the blaster shots.

"[Name]!" Anakin alerts you.

You swiftly turned on your heel to deflect what was out of your range.

His expression was that of a deadly assurance. Using the force, he grabs the commando droid that fired at you. It slices through his lightsaber.

But in that moment, that brief second he focused on you, a blaster shot hits his arm.

You feel your blood drop, and a surge of adrenaline propels you forward.

Anakin's dominant hand was hit. And he extends his unharmed one to push you behind him.

Your vision was beginning to blur from tears. The panic seemed to seep in.

But in a moment of hopelessness, all the droids have fallen, sliced neatly in half. The speed of the saber becoming faster than its light.

You stood in shock, barely registering what happened. Anakin had used the force to drive his lightsaber against the platoon. Your breaths shudder, and you are only grounded back to reality when Anakin falls to his knees.

Now that the energy from the adrenaline has depleted, you feel as though you are falling into pits of the void forming inside you.

You wrapped your arm around Anakin, "What were you thinking?!" You gasped, panicking over the sight of blood running down his arm.

You heard clone soldiers march nearer.

You called for them to have the med kit ready. Anakin's palm presses on your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. "Tell me you're alright. I need to know you're okay"

His eyes were hooded. You suspected he was becoming languid from the blood loss.

Recognizing the fear in his eyes, you forced a smile "Yes, I'm alright, it's over Anakin" You try to contain your panic.

Anakin nods, then he winces, then he closes his eyes.

You did not leave his side for one second. Soon, you were back at the med-bay. Anakin sustained an injury, but luckily, nothing lethal. If he did...

You felt your own exhaustion tell you to lie down and rest, but you would not leave Anakin's bedside.

That fear you felt when you saw Anakin facing such a large platoon of droids. He could've died. You can't even begin to think what it would be like if he did.

Then, it finally clicked.

The reason Anakin keeps denying you. The reason he was so adamant in keeping you away from danger.

His past keeps bleeding into the present. He feared losing his mother, more than anything. She was the most valued attachment Anakin had. And he lost her. He's never stopped blaming himself for that. He was scared to lose someone again. He won't lose you too.

When he wakes, your anger dissolves.

You held his hand.

No matter how long you have known him, there'll always be a part of him he'll hide from you. And now that you understand the root of his fear, you'll not hold back from touching him.

This is as close to the intimacy as you can have.

Anakin's expression softens. He moves his hand to caress your cheek. This, this was familiar.

"I'm sorry" His eyes were glistening with tears.

Your breath caught. You trembled lightly.

"It's not that I don't love you, [Name]" His voice broke, and you thaw.

"I just can't... I can't do this again. I can't care for you. If I lose you, I can't take it... I won't" His voice trails as he becomes more incoherent.

You stood up and held Anakin near your heart.

It felt like the Force itself was trying to punish you both for loving.

"I'm right here, Anakin" was all you could manage.

You did not let go until he was ready.

Your faith was shaken. Some small part of you was still reprimanding you for loving Anakin so ravenously. But a larger force was commanding you Love him. Love him! And let him love you. Do you think anything under the heavens matters?

You'd lay your heart to Anakin. Blank, new. You'd let him write on it as he wishes, he's the only one you ever will.

"You don't have to fear anymore, because we'll be alright" You tried your best to ease his fear.

He looks up as if he wants to believe in it too.

"Come here" he would say, his arms open wide. Defying his fear, allowing love.

You'd already abandoned everything you've known. Anakin was offering himself up on a golden platter. There's nothing left but to open, ravage, eat.

"Stay" he would beg. And you would smile, and I would stay.

I would stay.

footnote

i was really drabbling about how anakin's enslavement as a child somehow affects how he approaches relationships and let me tell you that i was SHATTERED throughout trying to detangle it. it also reminded me of jude st. francis from 'a little life' because jude was an orphan in a monastery, and he was never afforded any possessions, so he would 'steal' inanimate objects just to call them his own. (poor baby🥹)

i also spiralled into this theory of subject-object relation. where it states that we (the subject) tend to perceive things(the object) as possession.

hence the reason, sometimes, lovers feel alienated. because the other sees the other as of service to them (effectively reducing them to an object). so in conclusion, true love is not real (it might be, i'm running on 4 hrs of sleep writing this haha!)

[windsweptinred]

Behold! A Dionysus x Orpheus part headcanon/part mini fic ‘thing’ that has been haunting my brain.

They reunite with much joy and relief. In a world where chaos slowly gains ground and everything is changing around them, they're the one constant left to each other. Orpheus, the last remaining connection Dionysus has, that hasn't been brutally ripped from him. Dionysus, the one steadfast presence left in Orpheus’s life now Riddy has gone. The old order is dying, the future is uncertain. But they have each other and they find solace and comfort in that. 

Dionysus’s faith in Orpheus never shirks, Orpheus’s support for Dionysus never wavers…Feelings form. They're both men of extremes, they fall fast and they fall hard. But his time in the Underworld has left Orpheus plagued by self-doubt. He berates himself constantly for being obsessive, selfish and suffocating with those he loves. He swears to be better for Dionysus. So despite it being completely against his nature, despite his overwhelming desire to prostrate himself at the god's feet and worship him with every fibre of his being. He instead holds back, tries to love Dionysus subtly and quietly. At a time when Dionysus, a naturally exuberant diety, needs loud and consistent shows of affection more than ever before. 

Dionysus watches his friend withdraw and questions if his love is reciprocated. Orpheus sang for Riddy, as if he couldn't keep all that love for her within himself. Yet he receives nothing but shy smiles and careful touches from the musician. Perhaps his father was right? Perhaps the love he craves is forever out of his reach, held at bay by the divine ichor in his veins. 

Orpheus watches the one he adores wilt, watches this vivacious, glorious being dim like a smothered flame. Knows it is once again somehow his fault. And hates himself all the more for it. 

Until one day, Orpheus, in an attempt to heal whatever he has wrought, presents Dionysus with a watch. A gift, he calls it. A replacement for the one the young Olympian nobly sacrificed on his behalf. And Dionysus, with a rare solemnity for the god of frenzy, offers it back to him. Says he's gifting it in turn to Orpheus, and asks, ‘Would you wear it?’ It's a pivotal moment, they both know it. A test, though the mortal doesn't know the hows and whys of it. And in that moment, high on nerves and adrenaline, Orpheus lets his control falter, and lets slip in his most devoted manner, that Dionysos may as well brand it permanently on his skin, as he'd never take it off. 

Kicking himself, Orpheus instantly goes to apologise, retract his fumble. Until he sees the golden fire alight in Dionysus's eyes. And a hopeful smile play upon his lips. The god takes his wrist reverently in his hand, before pointing to the base of the inked titan Atlas, hefting his mighty burden and questions in a frenzied whisper, “Here?” Orpheus smiles brightly, offering his wrist in willing sacrifice and declares earnestly and adoringly, ‘Anywhere you want.’ He watches with exhilaration as the blue veins under the god's digit darken, spread and begin to form a design. 

Later, his mind already a whirl with lyrics, sprung from the taste of wine found upon his new muses lips, Orpheus asks cautiously if this is truly alright? If he's not too much? His divine lover smirks playfully, nipping at his newest tattoo, a clock face encircled by the god's signature vines, emblazoned on his wrist for all to see. “I'm the god of excess Phe.” The blonde declares proudly. “There's no such thing as ‘too much’.”

(I may return to write this out properly as a fic at some point, time allowing. But I needed to get it out of my head and onto paper, so to speak. These two are driving me crazy in all the best ways.) 

[glowingbadger]

Any chance of tied up and/or handcuff, afab reader with Seteth or Jeritza?

So this request came in while my requests are closed (including the funky special requests I've done lately), but, y'know... I had some thoughts anyway. Have I already written for both Seteth and Jeritza recently? Yes. Will that ever, ever stop me from writing more about them especially Seteth? Absolutely not.

Seteth, Jeritza x GN! Reader

Bondage/handcuff headcanons

NSFW 18+

Jeritza

Jeritza is very, very careful about restraining you. At first, he won't even consider it- he's too nervous for your safety, and he's well aware exactly what fate would befall you if he were to lapse into the Death Knight while he has you restrained in his bed. For some time, the very thought haunts his nightmares, until you both gradually deepen your trust and intimacy with one another. Over time, as he comes to realize and truly hold in his heart the absolute trust you have in him, it frees him to pursue a wider range of pleasures with you.

Eventually, tying you up becomes a way for you two to explore that trust you have in one another in a sensual and deeply intimate way. Seeing you helpless beneath him, knowing he could do anything to you and yet you have faith that he'll only give you pleasure and adoration, it sets Jeritza's heart racing. His touch is unusually reverent when you submit yourself to him like this, his hands worshiping you with the kind of devotion he'll only offer to you and you alone.

With your wrists bound above your head- perhaps latched around a bed post, or perhaps simply pinned down with one of his strong hands at your wrists- he'll spend a good long while simply touching you. With any other man, it may seem that this is meant to tease you; he'll run his hands along your body, watching the way your flesh yields beneath his fingertips, the way you shiver when he caresses somewhere sensitive, the way your eyes shine as you gaze back up at him with flushed cheeks and parted lips, and all the while his expression appears stoic. It's only because you know him so well that you notice the way his jaw tightens and eyes narrow as he watches you, his chest subtly rising and falling with deep, careful breaths as he fights to contain his lust.

Jeritza simply adores getting to watch you feel good at his hand. He's taken for granted for some time that he is an instrument of war, a being of death. Being able to bring pleasure to the one he holds most dear is a thrill he'd never believed he would experience- so watching you mew and whimper and plead for him with your body bound and vulnerable makes his cock throb with need until he has to feel himself buried in you.

As far as tying or handcuffing him, he's actually far more amenable. While it seems a little arbitrary- you both know he could easily break through any restraints you'd put him in if he truly wanted to -it is something of a comfort for him to feel himself held in place for you to have your way. It feels as though a burden has been taken from him, that he's far less likely to hurt you, even if that's only marginally true.

While he's not always good at verbally expressing his pleasure while tied up, it's obvious how sensitive he is to your every touch and kiss like this. His muscles tense as you press your body to him, his abdomen flexes as you drag your nails down his skin, and every kiss along his neck and down his chest causes him to strain for just a moment not to break out of his restraints and claim you.

That said... if you enjoy the idea of tormenting him until he breaks, that is certainly an option. While again this will take time and trust, he's strong enough to rip out of basically any kind of binding you'd put him in, so if your goal is to tease and provoke him until he frees himself and throws you down onto the bed beneath him, you'll be in for a long and pleasurable night as he expresses with his body the feelings for you that he's unable to verbalize.

Seteth

While the sexual side of a relationship takes a while for Seteth to ease into at its base (it's been a while for him, and he's so concerned with your comfort, despite his pent-up longing for you), it absolutely won't take long to realize that he adores both dominating you and being dominated in turn. The man thrives on power dynamics, so if you express interest in being cuffed or tied up, you'll immediately see the heat in his eyes as the idea takes hold in his imagination. Despite his usual stern demeanor, it's obvious how the thought of tying you up in his bed makes his blood run hot.

As with all things kinky (and all things in general, really), Seteth insists upon a level of due-diligence. He's rigorous in his investigations on which materials are safe to use when binding you, how to do so without hurting you, and how to sooth and care for you afterwards. Frankly, it's likely that part of his interest in exploring this with you was prompted by him happening upon a book on the subject when scouring the library's texts to ensure no inappropriate material be left within view of the students. This particular book was immediately secreted away to his quarters, and he's studied it thoroughly since.

If Seteth is restraining you, he's either punishing you or spoiling you. Perhaps you've been misbehaving recently, getting a bit too flirtatious during work or going to tea with someone else just to rile him up, and he feels the need to discipline you in his bed by binding you and tormenting you at the edge of release until you promise to behave. Conversely, when the mood strikes, Seteth can be absolutely doting- tying your wrists above your head so all you can do is let him spoil you, driving you to cum with your legs trembling and lips gasping his name over and over on his tongue and fingers before he even enters you.

Kink play can get very ritualistic with Seteth, and bondage is no exception. One of his favorite ways to dominate you is to tie you down and make you recite prayers beneath him while he touches you, refusing to let you cum until you finish, and harshly reprimanding you whenever you stutter or hesitate. In particular, there may be a few prayers to Saint Cichol specifically that he insists you ought to know by heart.

All of this said, Seteth is fundamentally a switch, and savors power-play regardless of who is in the dominant role. When on the receiving end, you'll never find a more eager and obedient submissive. Service is his life's calling, in a sense, and he's always thrilled to serve the one he loves. His pulse starts racing the moment you guide him down onto the bed and position his wrists together to cuff him, and he'll be rock-hard and red in the face by the time you've straddled him. He'll gladly submit himself to any treatment you offer him- punish or tease him, overstimulate him, use him, anything you like. Hell, Seteth has become so accustomed to controlling himself and his lusts over the years that he can endure a truly impressive amount of sexual torment, if it's what would most please you.

Either way, by the time he finally feels his cock sheathed deep inside of you, he'll likely want to be free to hold you and feel your arms around him in turn. For as kinky as Seteth can get, he's a romantic deep down (though he may struggle to express it), and he adores you in such a sincere way that, no matter how intense things get in bed, he ultimately wants you both to be able to share pleasure to the fullest.

[deepsix-writing]

Fix You. Chapter 1 of 5. (BEGINNING)

After the events of Marble Hornets, Tim is left to pick up the pieces of what is left of his old life. One piece in particular has him haunted.

(NEXT CHAPTER)

When Tim had first seen the hooded figure lying motionless on its back after falling off the balcony, he'd thought, good. Another puppet of the Operator down… one step closer to putting an end to this nightmare. He hadn't realized it was, instead, the beginning of an entirely new one.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't. Here's the beep.'

Never had Tim known the sound of a dial tone so well. His devotion to that voicemail inbox was as a priest to his god; He knelt in prayer morning, noon, and night, begging and pleading with whatever force it was that looked down on him from heaven to let him hear his best friend's voice just one more time. Steadfast in faith, he never stopped calling, never stopped hoping, even as the seasons changed and he did too. Even as the police came in search of missing persons, and went when they found nothing, Tim remained. His razor collected dust in his bathroom. A beard as thick as his misplaced hope had cropped up on his face.

The investigations had been particularly difficult for Tim, especially when detectives had shown up on his doorstep. For Brian's, he'd easily been able to shrug them off and convince both them and himself that the college student must have been off visiting family out in the west, or enjoying a break from classes by the coast. It was summer, and the benefit of the doubt was his seldom hope. He called Brian's number and let the voicemail play for the police once, then a million times more for himself after they were long gone.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't. Here's the beep.'

Then came Alex's. The film student had worked up a track record of unexplained disappearances already (something Tim relayed to the cops word for word), but Tim didn't have much else to say about him. The man had already painted the walls of Tim's mind with a noxious crimson; he couldn't bear to lose another shred of his regards to him. The detectives said they would keep in touch with Tim if they discovered anything new, and they went on their way. Tim let the sound of Brian's canned voicemail message fill the empty space in the meantime.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message… or don't.'

Time marched on. Tim marched on. In the mornings, he took his medicine, listened to the voicemail, and afterwards he went to work. Admittedly, the job he worked was a crappy one, but it was the first he'd managed to hold down in years. It would do. Tim would keep to himself and do just enough to get by until he was let off in the evening. Stopping by a gas station for cheap junk food on the way home was a mandatory part of the routine; he would do anything to prolong the inevitable sight awaiting him in his apartment.

He wades through the garbage of his overgrown and messy apartment after he wedges the door open and carefully locks it back up again. It is welcome procrastination for when he makes it to his bathroom and looks in the mirror. When he looks at himself, all he sees is blood.

'Hey. It's Brian. Leave a message…'

His god is dead. Tim isn't sure how long he's been praying to a corpse, but now he's able to smell the rot. It fills his nose and makes it hard to think. When he looks in the mirror, all he sees is death.

A tidal wave of blood replaces the ringing in his ears. He grips the edges of his sink. He stares down a murderer. A brutal killer that single-handedly delivered the end to all of his closest friends. People who'd had rich lives and bright futures ahead of them.

Alex's last moments replay in his mind. His hands, the same ones that had gone white with how tightly he gripped the countertop, were the ones he had used to stab the film student in the throat and the image would never ever fucking leave him. Over and over, again and again until Alex was coughing and hacking and drowning in his own blood. The sound of a punctured windpipe was not one he would ever forget. The scene had smelled like metal and victory at an impossible cost. His hands had been stained red ever since.

It was a microscopic change, one Tim hadn't noticed at first, but he was certain the skin on his hands was a shade redder than the rest of his body. No amount of hand-washing or showers or even bleach would fix it, and no one at his crappy job had known him long enough to see the change like he did. But Tim knew. Tim could hold up his hand against his face and be able to tell. His hands were cursed by a near-transparent shade of crimson, and any time he looked at them, guilt burnt a hole in his stomach. His anxiety would be remedied with another replay of the voicemail that never changed.

It had taken Tim longer than he could proudly admit to figure out what that had meant for his former friend. Combing through Jay's online archive of footage to find out exactly who the hooded man was had taken even longer. It was like watching his brother's last moments on video after finding out he'd died the same night. In comparison, the voicemail was like hearing the voice of his patron saint.

Tim's faith dies in the middle of the night, when he lies in bed with a cigarette in one hand and his phone in the other. The device is perched over his head, shining down on his face as he calls Brian's number, listens to the voicemail, and hangs up.

'Hey. It's Brian…'

It's a neurotic dance he repeats until his eyes grow tired and he's just on the verge of sleep, and then…

"Uh, hello? Who is this?"

Tim dropped the phone on his face before he knew how to react. It fell in the crevice between his side and the bed, and it took him a frantic moment to wrench it out.

"Brian, Brian! Holy shit, are you okay? It's Tim. It's me, Tim! Are you okay?? What, What happened–"

"Woah, hey!" Tim realized it wasn't Brian's voice. "-I'm not – I just found this phone on the side of the road earlier. It's not mine."

Then it set in. Then something withered inside him. When his lips moved, it was a miracle.

"…Where on the side of the road?"

"Oh, just by Rosswood Park. So are you friends with this Brian guy? He probably wants his phone ba–"

Tim snapped his phone shut and never called the number again. Sleep did not come to him that night, and in the next few weeks they were as lovers on thin, frayed ropes. Circles as dark as his guilt weighed down his eyes. Thoughts he'd put behind himself years before came running to catch up with him.

Tim was dead. His hope was a flickering candle that had been tossed into the ocean. It hadn't stood a chance. He hadn't stood a chance. He only knew of one thing left to do.

He found that one thing in his car keys and in his drive to Rosswood Park and in the loaded handgun he'd stuffed in his pocket. He parked his car sideways in the lot overlooking the forest. The front end of the car dipped past the painted dividers, and usually he'd hate it when people left their cars parked like that. Every time, Tim would grimace and regard the sight as a result of the driver lacking common decency. But in that moment, it was the last thing he could have ever thought to care about.

It was funny, how one simple piece of knowledge had changed Tim's entire perspective on life. He had decided that morning would be his last, and just like that, the world had flipped on its head. The rising sun was brighter, the morning sky was prettier, and his bed had been warmer. He even felt like cooking a meal for himself that day.

Tim went to the store after showering and dressing himself in his cleanest clothes. He bought just enough ingredients for this one recipe, and he even bought dried rosemary. It came in a little glass bottle, and was a dollar and sixty cents more expensive than the store brand spices he usually bought. Every time before, his eyes had passed over it. He'd excused the idea of buying it despite seeing it as an ingredient in countless recipes because it wasn't worth it, the dish would taste just as good without it, it was a waste of money. But when he used it to cook his last meal that day, it was like finding the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle he'd tried to put together years ago. It was the best food he'd ever tasted.

In the park, the birds chirped like an orchestra catered to Tim's ears. It was late fall, and the golden hues of falling leaves orbited around him. Before he joined the barren trees ranks, he sent a text to his former manager. Dead men can't work.

For a dead man, his feet were sure and steady. He knew exactly where he was going: the same place he'd died once before. Its once pristine white walls were peeling, and it was covered in graffiti now, but it hadn't changed any more than Tim had.

At the hospital, Tim had learned how the world worked. You start out whole, and every time the world beats you down, it takes a piece of you. With every friend he'd lost, Tim lost a chunk of his soul. And when he'd killed Alex, he'd lost a bigger chunk than he could have ever anticipated. Tim knew he wouldn't have enough of himself left afterwards to survive losing anyone else.

He'd always tried to find those pieces. It was the only reason he hadn't split town the moment he'd had the chance. Tim's eyes had always been full of stars and the against-all-odds hope that one day he could find those pieces again. Or maybe, he'd thought, he could find them again in someone else. But that someone else was gone, now.

Whatever pieces that had left him had rotted and decomposed. They nourished the soil that crept up from the floor of his old hospital room and grounded the lichen that hung from the ceiling. Time could put the very foundations of the room to ruin and Tim would still feel the years he'd spent locked away here like the ache in his feet from walking all this way.

It was as fitting a place as any to die. Tim envied his younger self: back when his mind was his biggest problem, and not his actions. As he closed the half-hinged door and trailed his hands along the peeling paint of his coffin, he hoped and prayed no adventurous teenagers would come and run into his body until the next summer, when wild animals had taken the pieces of him that would be left behind. He didn't want this place to harbor any more trauma for anyone else. He would end that legacy here and now.

Tim pulled the handgun from his pocket. It was warm from resting against his thigh. He brought it up to his chin, then thought better and let the tip of the barrel press against his temple. But it felt wrong. Too dramatic, too highschool. The warm metal slid to the center of his forehead instead. But he couldn't grip the trigger as well, he started to think that instead he could-

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Tim assumed it was the dead man's manager, replying to the dead man's lukewarm resignation text. But why not read a dead man's phone while he still could? He let the gun rest against the side of his head as he pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open.

'Hey. I know it's been a while since we've talked and you're probably pissed at me (understatement I know) but I need a ride. Really really need a ride. I'm supposed to be gone by 4, so if you could be here by then, I'd owe you my life.'

The text was from a number he didn't recognize and was accompanied by an address for some place in downtown Tuscaloosa. Tim was just on the verge of clicking his phone closed, excusing it as meant for someone else, when the unmarked number sent another message and suddenly there was no air in his lungs.

'This is Brian btw. Lost my old phone.'

Tim's grip on the handgun's trigger turned to wrought iron in his surprise, and a loud BANG made the last piece of himself jump out of his body. His ears didn't have enough time to stop ringing before both his phone and gun clattered to the floor. His fingers shot up to his head and he felt dizzy when he pulled them back to reveal blood.

Tim fell down on his ass and suddenly there was a fire in his body that burned hotter than the pain in his head. He wanted - no, needed - to stay alive. Even if that text wasn't actually from Brian…

No, it had to be. Needed to be. Tim brought his hands back up to his head, clasping his temples and crying out in relief when he realized his skull was still intact. Blood and heat still poured from his head, but he'd managed to isolate the unknown injury to a graze mark along his left temple. It was enough to sting like a bitch when his fingertips met the open wound, but wasn't deep enough to reach the bone.

It was the second most profound miracle of the day.

The third was how he'd managed to get back to his car without anyone seeing the state of his face, and fourth was the first aid kit he had stuffed in his car. He'd bought it impulsively about a month after he'd started listening to Brian's voicemail recordings, just in case he ever ran across his old friend on the side of the road on his way to the store or work. He had always held out hope for that man.

Tim checked the clock. 3:24pm.

The address from the text message had to be at least twenty minutes away. Shit.

Tim's work of patching up his temple through the foldout mirror in his car was sloppy, and no neater was he when he stuffed his handgun into the glove compartment and jammed his keys into the ignition. The ringing in his ears was the only accompaniment to his wild thoughts as he sped down the road to meet the man behind the text that had given him a new lease on life.

The address turned out to lead to a neat little building just a few blocks from the not-abandoned, non-psychiatric hospital in downtown Tuscaloosa. The sign out front seemed medical, but through Tim's stinging temple and his racing thoughts and the fire in his gut, he couldn't read past 'rehabilitation'. Tim pulled his car into the lot by the front doors and his parking job is just as crooked as it was in Rosswood Park's lot.

He's about to leave the car, but confronting whatever lies in wait for him suddenly wrenches his heart back to the park. His head lurches and he is in his bedroom with his phone, hearing the stranger's voice through Brian's number.

A cigarette would help ease his nerves, he's sure, but a sign by his car advertising a 'smoke-free facility' discourages him. He settles with rolling down his window and alternating between resting his arm on it and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. It's an ineffective compromise.

Tim looks at the front of the building through the film of grime on his windshield and watches as people filter in and out of the front doors. Some are in crutches, others have casts. All are accompanied by medical staff in clean uniforms, all accompanied by smiles and kind, encouraging words. Tim wonders which of the staff fake their smiles, and which of them see their patients as less than human. He averts his gaze as he locks eyes with one of them, too scared he'll find thinly-veiled hatred for him, too.

When a skinny figure in a wheelchair exits the building with a nurse by his side, Tim does not make the same mistake of not recognizing his best friend. He is bumbling along the paved concrete at a snail's pace, struggling to get the wheels to move smoothly. The chair goes sideways every other inch he advances, but his clothes are clean and he is smiling.

He is smiling. Brian is alive and well and smiling and Tim is launching himself out of his car without so much as turning off the engine. Brian says something to the nurse and laughs and only has a fraction of a second to throw his old friend a surprised glance before Tim snaps up the space between them like a greedy animal and holds him tight. His arms squeeze Brian with no mercy until an awkward chuckle from the man threatens him to burst.

"Gh - uh. Happy to see you too, man." Brian's words are choked out through strangled breaths. "I'd hug you back, but uh– ok. I can't breathe."

Tim relents only a moment later when Brian starts wheezing, and when he peels himself away, his hand still lingers on Brian's shoulder. Wayward priest, meet your angel. Here to reunite you with your maker.

Brian is glowing, at least in Tim's mind. His clothes are cleaner than he's ever seen them, and even as Brian says something to him that he doesn't make out, he's smiling. It's that same stupid, cheeky grin he'd wear whenever he'd tell cheesy puns and jokes to Tim in highschool. Those upturned eyes that always looked towards the sun and would exchange glances with him that said a million words regarded him now with joy despite it all. The same fiery passion in his gaze and ice water in his veins was there now, even now that Tim had completely blanked out on his words.

"Uh… Tim? You alright?"

Brian's voice carries all of the same, and Tim is undone. A weight melts off his shoulders, but something holes itself up in his throat. All he can manage is a nod.

Brian exchanges a look with the nurse and looks back at Tim. Then, he laughs. The sound is a fire that burns away Tim's fear and anxiety and gives way to a giddy feeling he can't remember the last time he'd felt. He moves a hand up to wipe his face and sniffs. He hadn't realized how wet his face had gotten.

Then, he smiles back. He isn't sure if his words will hold, but he tests the waters anyways.

"I missed you, Brian."

I thought you were dead. I mourned for you. Grieved for you as if I'd watched the soul leave your body with my own two eyes.

"I missed you too, Tim."

Brian just smiles. And it's more than Tim could have ever possibly hoped for.

[asidian]

Best Unspoken

by: Asidian

Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3

Pairing: Astarion/Wyll

Warnings: parental issues, abuse, implied noncon

Excerpt:

Shadowheart's Dark Lady haunts her steps, granting pain and trials.

Wyll understands.

Karlach loves the world so fiercely that she would rather burn away entirely than give it up again.

Wyll can't understand, not yet, but someday he knows that he will.

The things that Lae'zel has been living for – has spent her whole life devoted to – the things that she thought were as solid as bedrock beneath her feet – have been stripped away in an instant to leave her floundering and unmoored.

Wyll understands that, too.

And Astarion, it seems, has a taste for a rather more sanguine diet than he'd cared to admit – for exactly the sanguine diet Wyll has long suspected him of. He's charmed and flirted and put on a smile for the lot of them – gone without, in this place of endless shadow, too afraid to admit to the thing he's become.

Wyll understands that most of all.