#it is a pathetic miserable sight and he WANTS to be alone so no one can see him like that

[marc--chilton]

still losing my mind at the way houses relationship with john would have fucked up the way he sees being an omega. just,,, teen house, young and confused, experiencing these absoloutely brutal heats. not understanding why they are so bad and hard when theyre supposed to be a time where an omega feels good. already feeling broken and wrong, and then having to face john's anger and disappointment over him being an omega

like i can only imagine how it would affect him in heat, a time where he would be less able to think coherently. and constantly remembering how traumatic and horrible his heats as a teen were, the memory making him feel bad and in turn making him feel physically worse. just like,,, a constant feedback loop of remembering and feeling bad -> feeling physically worse in turn -> reminding himself even more of his childhood and feeling worse

i feel like after having to deal with his first few heats without a strong family net to acclimate to the changes, once house is outta there and doing his own thing he tries to never deal with his heats alone. he marks his cycle religiously, makes deals with alphas in med school to help him through them, or even finds street suppressants if he's especially desperate.

man. you just know john has put him outside for some of his heats, too. nothing to nest with, no scent blocking patches, just left him in the yard like a sacrificial lamb. it goes without saying how dangerous that is.

hell, once he's employed i wouldn't be surprised if he stole something from the hospital to bring home in case a heat comes up that he can't deal with, something that'll knock him out for the worst of it.

[6ronze]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐃

jujutsu kaisen w SAMURAI!TOJI FUSHIGURO. format. fic. warnings. fluff + hurt/comfort + nsfw. mdni. fem!reader. beating mention. spanking mention. pretty domestic and vanilla ngl. lots of praise(good girl, etc). a bit of dirty talk. fingering. endearments. wife!reader. toji in denial that he’s stupidly in love. summary. samurai!toji w his pretty wife + non-sorcerer au so he’s just miserable here

author’s note. gcbuiawbf got this idea out of nowhere. a bit inspired by hell’s paradise.

toji zenin. His birth name given by his parents along with all the responsibilities he never knew he was obliged to carry. If his soul while a fetus was informed that he was about to be born in a family where prowess reigned supreme and the right to be treated as a human had be fought for, perhaps he would have never wished to be born at all.

Against his will, he was birthed by his mother anyway, having to be scowled at and ostracised by his own clan which was said to be family. Growing up as a child, he learned what he had wasn’t family by the sight he was greeted with when he went out to the capital—children his age, running around with colourful toys in hand instead of a sword. And most importantly, they laughed. Smiled even.

It was something so mundane—a smile—yet something so foreign to him. The only smile he knew of at that age was the smile his relatives had when they kicked him on the ground, using the wooden sword he was given to train to hit him instead. The only smile he knew, was one full of sadism.

The older he got, the stronger he became, the more he realised he was slowly starting to pick up that same trait from them.

Very so often, he’d accept challenges from his peers or outsiders that wanted to humiliate him and his skills, looking down at him despite his bloodline of the Zenin clan.

He’d unsheathe his the katana he had resting on his hip, lazily taking stance and staring the arrogant man dead in the eyes with his own void eyes.

Such duels would end with the same outcome—toji having them laid on the ground, the sharp edge of his long katana dangerously close to the opponent’s neck. Sometimes—just sometimes, he’d smile. Just sometimes, he’d unintentionally make a thin cut to the neck just enough to draw blood.

He would be lying if he said the view from above wasn’t satisfying, the feeling of finally being the one looking down on someone as pathetic as the ones that humiliated him for years. The sneer he’d make with his lifeless eyes under the thin shadow that masked his face from his muscular and tall physique would make anyone think their life was about to be taken in a blink of an eye. But he wouldn’t. Toji would spare himself the trouble of having to face his elders for making a scene out of nothing.

Toji’s lived at the isolated quarters of the zenin estate for years—and that wasn’t about to change. It was where his mother birthed him and died—and so it would be where he would live and die.

The very least he would expect or care about was having a wife to continue his bloodline despite his progressing age. He knew better than to be greedy and trap a lady to the hell he lived in. Besides, he had absolutely no intentions of taking the ladies he’d frequently meet at the brothels out in town as his lover, let alone as his wife.

So the news of the elders arranging him a wife from another samurai clan shocked him. It was early morning when he was informed of such news, he had almost spat out his sake. The only thing he could utter in response was a loud, deep, huh?

Toji finally met you face to face after hearing your name being repeated by his elders when he had a meeting with them. Your family name rang a bell, though he never thought much of them since they weren’t politically involved in anything other than war.

He’s sat beside you, his hair slightly better groomed and yukata straightened compared to the sloppy way he wore it before. Making an effort in his appearance was the least he could do—since he was convinced he wouldn’t bother changing a thing about himself just for your sake.

“Your wedding ceremony will be held five days from now. End of discussion,” one of his elders concluded, the leader of your clan bearing witness and agreeing. Toji merely stared head on to his peers, moving a hand to lift his cup of sake and chugging it down without a hint of respect.

After a few more minutes of discussing the details about the ceremony, he finally turned his head to look at you—his future wife. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, your figure considerably insignificant to his. From what he thought would be an average woman being wed to him, his eyes lingered on you quite some while before he glanced elsewhere, his expression unreadable still.

You two parted ways for the day and he returned to his quarters, cup of sake in hand and his arm rested on the knee of his leg that propped up while sitting on the floor, his other leg bent towards himself. Toji stared out the courtyard of the estate, trying to peel the image of you out of his head. He internally cursed himself and his elders for suddenly arranging a wife for him just because they didn’t want their reputation to be tarnished by having an unmarried man. What was he supposed to do with a woman he’s never met before anyway? Regardless, he refused to be like the men within the zenin clan that lacked sympathy towards women and children.

The wedding ceremony was brief but complete. He was the best dressed he ever was in years, with you by his side. Just some family member from your families and a brief dinner, and the ceremony was complete. You didn’t seem to say a word about it either. Deep down he wondered if you loathed him, or your parents, for setting you up the low life of the zenin clan instead of his cousins. He would never know, he didn’t want to anyway. Ignorance was bliss, he thought.

You were lead back to his quarters after the ceremony ended, the sight of the somewhat empty and undecorated room not giving you much of a shocking reaction as he had hoped. Toji didn’t know what exactly he hoped, maybe a look of horror, sorrow, or pity. Yet he looked at you only to see you nod and acknowledge him, your expression remaining calm as if saying ‘I can work with this’.

Your first night together was mostly silent, perhaps a bit awkward whenever he tried offering you a blanket and separate futon to sleep in. While you thought that he didn’t like you, he was worried (albeit in denial) that you’d be uncomfortable sleeping with him.

To his and your surprise, you ended up having a brief yet meaningful talk that same night while you were both in your respective futons, about to sleep. He liked that you didn’t have expectations, understanding of his situation and yours now that you’re his legal wife. Maybe you weren’t so bad.

Months had passed since your wedding. And he’s become increasingly close to you—he’s fond of you, is what he would say in his own words. Though in the eyes of servants, others that weren’t blind, could see just how infatuated he was with you.

With how he’s stopped going to the brothel he so frequents in the capital, with how he’s become more hostile to those who insult you, it was quite clear how he cared for you, at least. Though what they didn’t know was how flirty he is with you behind closed doors, how he it was simply impossible for him to keep his hands to himself whenever he was in close proximity with you. He was insatiable. Not that you’d tell that to anyone. Unless you wanted a good spanking in the privacy of your quarters.

“What’d I tell you about gossiping with the maids, hm?” He’d murmur against the skin of your neck from behind you, his hard body pressing up against your soft one. His hands were all over you, the curve of your hip and the soft flesh of your breast that he had cupped over your loosening kimono, his calloused fingers circling your nipple making you shiver and squirm.

“I wasn’t gossiping, you fool,” you mumbled, your breath shaky and your body writhing in vain attempts to rid yourself of his touch.

“Then what were you doing? Bragging? Complaining?” You heard from the shell of your ear, his hot breath fanning your skin and the sound of his breathy laugh making you groan in frustration in embarrassment.

“Neither,” you huffed, settling yourself down on the futon with his arm under you still, holding you close to him.

“Liar,” he quickly refuted, his lips grazing the skin behind your ear and slipping his hand under your robe, searching to cup one of your tits and fondling it the second he captured it. His other hand moved down to your thighs, hooking his fingers under the slit of your robe and pulling it away to reveal your bare thighs, and exposing a hint of your dampening heat.

“There’s my beauty,” he whispered, his eyes flickering down your body from your shoulder to see the present he unwrapped for himself, your pretty cunt. He’s reminded you so many unneeded times before that he owned it, you. His calloused fingers slid to the apex of your legs, parting your puffy folds since your legs remained insistent on keep closed.

“Toji—” you started only to quickly be silenced with a deliberate stroke of his finger up your slit, the pad of said finger resting on your clit. The sudden touch made your lips part to exhale a shaky moan, your eyes looking down between your legs to see the movement of his hand.

“Yeah? Need something, sweetheart?” He hummed by your shoulder, burying his face into the crook of your neck to feast on your skin. While his teeth nibbled and marked you up, his finger on your clit began rubbing deliberate circles, feeling you up until he felt it twitching against the pad of his digit. Before you knew it, he had parted your folds further, slipping his thick middle fingers into your entrance, revelling in the way it made you squirm against him, your ass rubbing against his hip. You could only answer him with pathetic mewls that were only music to his ears, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be giving you much time to catch your breath to utter coherent words.

“Thought so, baby,” he scoffed triumphantly at your soft moans, his fingers curling inside you as he thrusted it in and out of your slowly, making sure to leave brief harsh kisses on your g-spot to keep you wanting, to keep you clenching around his digit in need but not enough to make you cum.

“You’re so tight around my finger, darling, can’t imagine how much tighter you’d get when I have my cock buried inside you. Think you’d like that? Feelin’ stuffed?” Was what he kept on whispering to you while he bottomed his finger in and out of you at a steady pace, making sure you’re feeling it as much as he was—and fuck was he feeling it. Even if he had you drunk on his finger, you weren’t exactly oblivious to prodding of his cock on your lower back. You just didn’t have the capacity to focus on it, not when he was turning you on with the mere thought and descriptions of him fucking you.

Toji felt you beginning to spams around him, your voice getting more and more high-pitched and whiny along with your nipples hardened to peaks between his cruel fingers. Signs of you being close to cumming was everywhere and he noticed them all, though he led you on to brink just to pull away when you needed him most.

“Yeah, not on my finger baby. You know where I want you most—where I want you best,” he grinned, his voice gravelly and hoarse as his breath brushed against your already warm skin.

Toji slid his finger out of you with slowly, savouring the way your juices coated him. The mere sight of his slick finger assured him that you were ready for—so fuckin’ ready.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, his free hand now slipping under your thigh, lifting your leg up to forcefully part your legs knowing you’d cramp yourself while trying to keep it up for him. “Yeah, ‘m here,” he assured from behind you when he finally took notice how you kept calling out his name, your voice all whiny and shaky in desperation. He positioned himself from behind you, shifting his hips and snuggling closer to you to lose whatever distance you still had left between each other.

“Feel that? ‘M all hard and ready for you, baby. Just like how ready you are for me,” he cooed, tugging on his own yukata to free his raging hard on, letting the thick girth slick with precum prod your ass, earning a needy whimper from you. He couldn’t help but stare at your side profile, taking in the sight of his wife making such expressions you’d never make for anyone but him.

His arm under your body curled your body suffocating close to him, making sure you could feel his chest against your back and his chin buried on the top of your head, alternating the choice of preying on the skin of your neck or ear.

After a moment of teasing, he finally slid his cock over to your wet folds, letting the tip mingle his precum with your slick juices before he pushed upwards, slowly penetrating your entrance that fluttered around him already, making it hard for him to go further.

“Fuck, princess—you gotta relax. I know you can take me in like a good girl,” he groaned, his jaw clenching at the feeling your soft flesh against his tip before you finally relax, letting him push further into you. He kept on uttering filthy encouragements by your ear while he made you take him in inch by inch until the hilt, his head tilting to kiss down your neck. He stayed still for a moment to let you adjust to his size, not letting that moment go on for too long until he started bottoming in and out of you with you slow, deliberate thrusts, your leg trembling in his hand.

“All mine—this tight cunt’s all mine.” The foul words that reached your ears would have normally had you recoiling in disgust but now, knowing those words came from him, it only made you moan shamelessly in his arms, your insides churning with pleasure and need to chase that high that he so often gave you. His need for you was palpable, almost equivalent to yours with how his hand kept alternating between your tits while he fucked you, his pace quickening now that the knot in his loins was tightening.

Your shared bedroom room was filled with nothing was the scent of your arousals, the lewd squelching sounds of his thrusts into you and loud shared moans. Toji’s hips didn’t stop for even a moment to let any of you rest, not when he was so close, you were so close. His grip on your breast tightened along with his grasp that help your thigh up, his hips bucking into your until he felt his balls tighten, his cock eventually spurting ropes of his thick semen into your canal, his movements jerky until he stopped. He nestled his cock into you until the hilt, unloading himself and letting you clench all around him.

He savoured the feeling with heavy pants, deep growls on satisfaction leaving him when he realised you came with him. Toji kept himself inside you for a while, not showing any signs of pulling out as you both basked in the afterglow.

He’d finally lower your leg down, humping against you lazily now that you’ve both came down from your high. Toji cradle you close to him, his hand slipping out of your robe to move his hand to your stomach instead, his face buried in your hair as he inhaled your natural scent and the musk of your mixed fluids that had began to ooze out you.

“Think you’d be up for another round after this, darling?” His low voice breathless voice met your ears, earning himself an annoyed frown which he merely chuckle at in response.

[suspiciouslypinkrosegarden]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡Armin x Reader⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

Description: You and Armin exchange comfort, taking place somewhere after Eren's physical fight with Armin while he is still healing. While dwelling on past events, Armin joins you and the two of you share some emotions. This does ignore timeline accuracy as I wanted to provide some care for Armin following him getting rather beat.

The relationship between the reader and Armin is left more undefined, as I wanted to allow in a broader audience. This goes out to everyone who feels they grew up with the characters.

The two of you sat side by side now, on the floor in front of the fireplace. It was silent aside from the crackling of the burning wood, and it would have been dark if not for the orangey glow cast upon the common space. 

At first you were alone, staring at the dancing flames with a sense of melancholy. In a way, you felt a kinship to the burning cedar, the fire licking at its unmoving form until there was nothing left but ash. Once an element strong enough to build homes with, now becoming a pile of dust. The wind could just as easily blow you away in this miserable state, going over memories from the cadet corps and early scouting years. You envied Marley’s photograph technology, memory foggy recalling old faces of your fallen comrades. 

Armin was quiet as he approached and sat beside you, and you wouldn’t dare make him feel that his presence was unwelcome in your turmoil. You also wouldn't dare to further question the remnants of fast healing wounds upon his face from his recent encounter with Eren. Instead, you leaned into him selfishly, your head resting on his right shoulder as the two of you faced the fire. In the late hour of the night, you both found your eyelids heavy with sorrow instead of sleep. He gently nudged you, and you turned to look up at him. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”

His voice was soft and full of care. 

“I’m just…thinking. About everything. Old memories, mostly.”

He did not push further, knowing what it meant to mull over all of the past events in your mind. As the stars took their rightful place in the sky, the pain of change and loss caught up to you soldiers, unable to forever outrun the weight of grief alone with your thoughts at night. And it would still follow you underneath daylight of course, chasing you through the world of wonders you were denied inside those walls. Your chest sank with a breath as you felt the pain now, as if someone stuck their hand in and gave that precious beating organ a squeeze. There was a fault in your breathing that Armin could hear, the unmistakable sound of someone trying not to cry. 

The man beside you was quick to act, gentle as he gave you space. Armin had a look about him, one of guilt or shame, as if he felt it was a sin that he didn’t know what to do in order to comfort you, to save you. It was you who felt truly guilty though, for somehow hoping his presence could blind away the devil on your back by enveloping you in his bright sunlight. As if he could turn all of the leaves killed over the long years into fresh greens, simply by not leaving you to be alone with your sadness. You must have been a pathetic sight, and you felt sheepish to not stand tall and kind in front of him when he was also hurting beyond measure. As his hand then found yours, it grounded you as you let him see you this vulnerable. You then began to distract yourself with thoughts of him as he enveloped your space and your senses, his hand warm and firm in yours as he again inched closer. 

Armin was… special, and his appreciation for the beauty of life drew you closer to him with a magnetic pull. You understood Eren’s old pedestal for his friend, the awe and wonder in Armin’s eyes unreplicable, him acting as a reminder for your tired heart to keep beating in order to see what the world had to offer. Here, by his side so close, you wished you could simply rub against him and take with you his magic that is human hope. You clung to him as his friend not only for your shared qualities, but because he felt like what you needed in order to survive your darkest days. 

As he grew taller and Eren strayed, Armin’s eyes were dimming with the beginning of manhood. However, that still never changed the way you saw him and his nature. You really couldn’t picture him blooming underneath anything other than the sun’s light, a strong stalk constantly absorbing what the world had to offer like a sunflower. You only wished he had better soil to stand on as he matured. You only wished that things could be better for both of your sakes.

Your gaze lingered upon his face that should have still been dramatically bruised after Eren’s beating, if it weren’t for his titan aiding in his healing. He awkwardly smiled at you as you studied him, shifting as if self conscious. You decided to bite the bullet and ask about his feelings, turning the conversation away from yourself. 

“Sorry for all this. I’d really rather hear how you’re doing right now, Armin.”

There was a silence as he sat there looking at you, and you gave his hand still in yours a light squeeze. 

“There’s not much to say, I guess. I’m…hurt. I can’t believe Eren would say those things, or do those things.” 

His blue eyes rippled with emotion. 

“Say what things..?”

“He said he had always hated Mikasa. So I punched him.”

“Oh…so that’s how-”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m currently waiting for my titan abilities to fix me up.” 

You didn’t know how to respond to his comment regarding Mikasa. You didn’t have to guess that she must be heartbroken right now in her own right too, briefly imagining her sadness under the cover of the darkness of her room. After all she had done for Eren, that’s how he treated her?

“Why would he say something like that?” you said a bit angrier than you meant to. 

Armin sighed gently before responding with an “I don’t know.” 

In your dismay, unable to fully grasp the weight of comprehending the changes your old friend was going through, you decided to continue to reach out to the one directly in front of you. Your free hand lightly touched a bruised spot on his right cheek, and it was unusually hot to the touch as it healed. You looked at him desperately, as if he’d change under the light of the full moon too. 

“Are you in a lot of pain, Armin?” 

You lightly fussed over him, examining his face. He did not stop you, no matter how embarrassed his expression seemed to show he was. Your eyes mulled over his features, and he felt himself burning up under your caring scrutiny. 

Armin’s signs of aging were the easiest to recall of all the guys, going from a soft, rounder face to having a slightly more defined look. However, that wasn’t to say he lost his prettiness for a traditionally “chiseled” appearance, still adorning a button nose and fuller cheeks. While he couldn’t pass for a double of the cutest girl in the previous squad anymore, he was certainly tender in his looks. He broke the silence again as your fingers grazed over bruised skin.

“No, I’ve been in worse pain. I’m just upset.”

“Rightfully so.”

You dropped your hand from his face, watching as Armin’s expression changed to a gentle plea of sorts. 

“Let’s not talk about this anymore. I don’t think I can keep…talking about this. Please don’t tell the others what I said either for right now, we don’t need more conflict. We’ve got to keep it together to keep fighting.”

In the quiet, your “ok” was all he needed to feel respected. You took initiative to gain back your previous closeness, leaning on him once again. Your head found his shoulder once more as you again switched conversation topics, urged on by the feeling of his newfound broader nature. You felt like telling him every first thought on your mind, as if losing a basic conversational filter.

“When did you become a man, Armin? Your shoulders were smaller when we were cadets.”

His laugh was clumsy, not forced per se, but a quick reaction to a strange question. He suddenly paused for a deep inhale, then exhale, as if gathering thoughts. 

“You don’t have to keep deflecting the conversation away from yourself, you know. I came in here to check on you, but you’re making it all about me.” 

“I’m…technically not deflecting right now. I was thinking about everyone we’ve lost and how we’ve all changed so much when you sat next to me. Then, looking at what Eren did to you… I guess I just never stopped to appreciate the good changes you’ve undergone. I think Eren’s changes for the worse scare me into not seeing what’s right in front of me. Thank you for surviving with me.”

It was here that you could tell Armin felt his familiar shyness creeping in, unsure of how to truly respond to the new conversation you were starting. You ran around him in circles here, it already feeling gauche to comfort you. He’d never admit the pressure of yearning for your approval in particular, tip-toeing around his discomfort with the topic of his own survival.   

“I…am happy to be by your side.”

You sighed comfortably, deciding to talk about yourself as he seemed to have wanted.

“To…talk about earlier a bit more. I miss everyone we lost in Trost and after. I miss laughing with Sasha and Connie together, and I even miss the warriors when they pretended to be our friends. If we had those…cameras…that Marley has, I could remember exactly how Mina and Thomas looked still. It just sucks, all of it. I am…scared to lose you. I am scared you’ll change too, that you’ve already stopped seeing the world in so much color with everything happening.”

Armin thought for a moment, wishing to give you a solid response. He was, in fact, emotional too as he heard you say these things about how he saw the world. He couldn’t remember exactly when he last spoke to you about something he was excited to experience, more focused on battle plans in a fight for survival. 

“I don’t think I ever stopped seeing the world in color, maybe. It’s more that I wish we could collect those colors and form rainbows, not wars.”

You remained quiet as you thought his statement sounded poetically cheesy, but good for what you needed to hear at this moment. His brain always seemed to translate the world as if pages in a book, inking those words into your tired mind as they left his mouth. He awkwardly glanced at you, giving you a reminder to react to what he had just said.

While you wouldn’t say Armin was the type to actively ask for external validation from others, you could always tell it’s what he craved in moments like this. To be told his words weren’t strange, to be reminded his presence was welcome and that he wasn’t out of place in the emotional space between you two. As he looked at you, you pondered on his silent plea for…something. 

“Can I hug you, Armin?” 

He did not falter, his cheeks a dusty pink as his eyes filled with tears. He moved closer on instinct as he answered. 

“Yeah...”

And as the walls around you built by age seemed to crumble down, you found yourself face to face with that familiar boy from all of those years ago. You saw it now, the salty air rippling through his long blond hair, water the shade of his eyes slipping through the cracks between his fingers on that special day. You couldn’t tell who reached out for the physical comfort offered first, crashing into each other as if by the pull of the moon. Your old friend gathered you into his arms in a swift motion. At the same time, you offered him shelter from the roaring tides in yours. Armin’s familiar nature was not lost in the sea of emotions shared tonight, but found. You felt his arms squeezing tightly around your torso as you did the same to him, the tickle of his nose in the crook of your neck as he buried his face close. You both clung to each other as if buoys in the middle of all that blue, promising to always be there to help each other stay above ebb and flow of the current. 

[veronicaphoenix]

Series: Into the Abyss of Bad Habits | masterpost Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Reader x Oliver Sykes

Hearts Like Ours. Additional multipart. Chapter 2: The Angel of Death | Words: 8k Summary: The morning after her breakdown, Reader does not expect to get any better until a certain person unexpectedly appears at her front door.

Tags and trigger warnings: established polyamorous relationship, angst, hard truths, anxiety, mentions of parent's negligence, comfort/fluff, noah only appears on phone in this part but he's mentioned throughout the entirety of the chapter, soft!oli, mentions of blowjobs, sexual content (spit used as lubricant, p. in v., protected).

Author’s note: this is mostly self-indulgent so bear with me, i love softness 🥹 It's also another attempt at writing something short and ending up with 8k 🫠 Regarding tags, I'm trying something new and tagging everybody down below in the comment section, given that as of lately a few people have reached out to tell me they didn't get the notification and I've read somewhere that tags indeed are not working well. So let's see if this does the trick.

When she woke up the next morning, her neck and stomach ached, a remainder that she had skipped dinner the night before. Sitting up, the two shirts she had slept with clung to her and then fell to the floor, reminding her why she had chosen to sleep on the sofa instead of the bed. She was alone. Noah wouldn’t be home for another three days, and Oliver was lost somewhere in the southern United States.

            It was Saturday. How was she supposed to spend the entire day alone at home, with no work and no one around? She felt even more pathetic than she had the night before. What was happening to her? She hadn’t always been this dependent; she hadn’t always felt this miserable. 

            But then again, it wasn’t every day that your mother hurled insults at you and made you feel dirty in a way that was far from the real thing. 

            She ran her hands over her face. If only Luna were here... Given her age, Oliver had decided not to bring her to America, and now his father, Ian, was taking care of her. 

            Last year, they had talked about adopting a dog, mostly so she would have company when the boys were away, but with work and the idea of getting married, adoption had been pushed aside. Now she regretted not insisting more.

            Still holding the shirts, she went upstairs and made a quick trip to the bathroom, overwhelmed by another wave of misery as she caught sight of herself in the mirror—eyes swollen from yesterday’s crying and her face as pale as a ghost. The sight of Noah’s and Oliver’s toiletries—their toothbrushes, shaving cream, face wash from different brands, a facemask Oliver had recently got from Lush…—only deepened her sadness. 

            Her deep sigh echoed in the empty space. 

            She had to eat something and get out of the house, get some sun and fresh air. She’d told Jack she would visit Sylvie, but the truth was she didn’t feel like it. She was happy for them. She was going to be an aunt. But she was feeling so blue that, she knew if she met Sylvie, both would end up crying, for totally different reasons.  

            So, she opted to tidy up and spend the day cleaning. That’s one of the things Noah used to do whenever his mind was not in the right place. 

            Before breakfast, she checked her phone, tempted to message the boys and tell them she was going through hell, that she couldn’t silence the voices in her head —especially her mother’s— and that she needed them because she felt like she was sinking. She wanted to swim to the surface but felt like she had a rock tied to her ankle, and she would probably drag herself to the bottom before they came home. 

            She hated being aware of the self-destruction her own mind subjected her to and not being able to do anything to stop it. It was a battle against herself that she couldn’t win. A battle she had fought before, and although it seemed she had won many times, those demons always came back sooner or later. 

            In the end, she just let Noah and Oliver know she was awake and, to distract them, sent a couple of photos of her underwear abandoned on the floor when she changed into somehting more decent. She knew that spending the whole day in pajamas would only worsen her state. 

            In the kitchen, she made herself a cup of tea and something to eat. 

            After having lunch on the back porch and letting herself be caressed by the sun in one of the hammocks, she went back inside, ready to spend the next few hours watching a comforting movie on the couch. Or perhaps an angsty one, and cry a few more tears. What did it matter now?

            She remembered then she hadn’t picked up the mail for the past four or five days. A mix of excitemend and dread flooded her at the thought that maybe Oliver had sent a postcard from wherever he was, even if it was just from somewhere else in the country. He’d started doing that the previous year, and it was a sweet gesture that always warmed her heart. 

            Stepping outside, she found her neighbor Marina tending to her plants and flowers in the front yard, a lovely married woman in her forties with two children. They greeted each other, and Marina asked about the boys. She replied that there were still a few days left before they returned, and Marina, probably sensing her sadness, kindly suggested joining her at her house any afternoon for tea. It was a comforting gesture, though still far from the kind she truly wanted.

            With only a couple of letter in her hands and no postcard from Oliver, she made her way back to the front door, only taking a couple of steps before the sound of a car pulling into the driveway and stopping made her turn around. The sight of the black Range Rover made her heart flip and almost lose her balance.  

            Oliver stepped out of the car, closing the door behind him without taking his eyes off her. During the short walk toward her, his green gaze remained steady and unwavering. He wore casual jeans and a t-shirt, exuding calm determination. 

            Before she could even react, he was in front of her, gently holding her face in his hands, and then he kissed her. 

            Her hands instinctively moved to his chest, her right one still clutching the envelopes. However she could, her fingers gripped his black tee tightly, as if fearing he might disappear at any moment. 

            His mouth was warm, his kiss passionate and urgent. She was left nearly breathless. 

            When she finally lowered herself from standing on her tiptoes and opened her eyes, her heart was pounding wildly.

            “What are you doing here?” she managed to say, it being the only coherent thought she could muster. In truth, she didn’t care about the answer. It was enough that he was there in the flesh.

            Oliver let out a sardonic smile. “Hello to you too, love,” he said, poking her nose. “Where am I supposed to be when my girl needs me?” 

            His words stunned her for a few seconds as he took her hand and stroked the back of it with his thumb. 

            Of course, it had to be Jack who told him. 

            “But—What about the tour? How did you get here so fast?” She asked, still gripping his t-shirt with one hand. 

            “We’d better go inside,” he suggested, nodding towards the house next door where Marina was watching them absently as she trimmed the dried leaves from her plants. Oliver waved at her, asking how she was with the easy charm of a gentleman. 

            Marina would have chatted for quite a while, likely making mention of his girl’s mood and asking Oliver the very questions she wanted answers to. But Oliver, sensing this, skillfully dissuaded her in less than thirty seconds, practically dragging his girl inside the house. 

            Once inside, with the door closed behind them, she dropped the letters on a small table in the entryway and threw herself into his arms, bursting into tears on the spot. 

            Having Oliver there, being able to hold him, inhale his masculine scent mingled with his perfume, and feel the brush of his long hair against her cheeks, felt like a miracle.

            “Please, don’t go.”

            “Love, I just got here.”

            “I know, but I’m sure you’ll have to leave again in a couple of hours.”

            With a resigned sigh, Oliver took her hand and guided them both into the living room, settling onto the couch. 

            Oliver observed her silently for a moment, studying her face for signs of the previous day’s tears and the sleepless night. They were all there, all too evident. 

            He gently stroked her cheek, and she leaned into his touch, savoring the moment, the warmth of his skin against hers. 

            “I can stay until tomorrow night,” Oliver murmured softly. “As soon as Jack called me, I booked the first available flight out of Houston. We have two days off until the next show. I have to be in Kansas City the day after tomorrow. But please, don’t worry about that now. What the hell happened?” 

            She struggled before mustering the courage to tell him. 

            She began with a vague summary of the events, but Oliver insisted on the details, wanting to know every word her mother had spoken. 

            She watched as he clenched his jaw, holding back a torrent of curses. 

            As a few more tears traced down her cheeks, Oliver gently pulled her into his embrace and fetched a box of tissues from a nearby coffee table. 

            “Why didn’t you wait until Noah and I were back?” He questioned, watching her wipe her tears. “We said we’d tell her together, precisely to avoid this,” he said, not intending to scold her but clearly unsettled by her decision to face her mother alone. 

            “I know, but I couldn’t shake the thought, and I didn’t want her saying anything hurtful to you, so I thought I could handle it on my own,” she confessed, sniffling into the tissue then dropping it on the coffee table.

            “And did it do you any good?” Oliver asked, his tone soft, his gaze tender as he peered at her. 

            “No,” she replied, shaking her head, defeated. “It just made everything worse. I’ve spent the last twenty-four hours feeling miserable and missing you both terribly. Last night, I felt like I couldn’t breathe without you guys around. I just wanted to protect you…” she trailed off, her voice heavy. 

            “I know,” Oliver murmured, gently touching her face again. “But we protect each other, don’t we? We’re stronger together. If Noah and I feel low, we lean on you, and you make us feel better. That’s how it works. You have to let us do the same, doll. It’s taking you too long to get rid of this habit.” 

            She sighed, but she knew he was right. 

            “If you keep everything to yourself, then what’s the point of this? Of us? Of being in any relationship, for that matter?” Oliver continued, his eyes reflecting her own sadness. “We’re together because we love each other, and by love I mean that we’re by each other’s side under any circumstance. Loving us is not just you giving me and Noah blowjobs and letting us have our ways with you, baby. Loving us means you’ll let us know when you’re anxious, when you’re sad or angry. You’ll let us help you because we want and we love every part of you—the good, the bad, and everything in between. Wasn’t that clear?” 

            His words made her feel terrible, very aware of her mistakes, but she deserved it. If anything, to at least make her understand for once and for all that she had to lay her head on their shoulders whenever she needed, without a second of hesitation. 

            “I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just hard… because loving also implies that you don’t want the other person to get hurt, and all I was doing was…” she trailed off. There was no point. Her voice turned into a whisper and then into desperation fading into nothing. 

            Oliver squeezed her hand and placed it on his thigh, speaking gently.

            “Listen, I know this is hard to accept, but you don’t owe anything to your mother,” he began. “Our parents made us, but we’re not meant for them. You’re meant for me and Noah. Everything else, everyone else, is just a bystander to your story. You can’t force them to be a part of your life if they don’t want to, darling. It sucks. It fucking sucks because sometimes you want people to be part of your life so bad… but they don’t want to be; they don’t want to share your happiness, they might not even understand it, and that’s okay.” When he saw her face, Oliver chuckled softly. “I’m not saying that the things your mom said were okay, but you get my point. You’re not meant to live your life by your mom’s wishes or follow in her footsteps. You don’t have to walk with her. You’re walking with Noah and me.”

            Seen that way, from that perspective, Oliver was undeniably right. 

            She had spent much of her life trying to please her mother, striving to be a perfect daughter even when she wasn’t consciously aware of it. Since formalizing her relationship with Noah and Oliver, she had come to realize how many decisions she had made in the past with her mother in mind rather than herself. And now, with her mother’s rejection of her relationship with the boys, all that weight came crashing down on her.  

            Her mother didn’t want her, didn’t want a daughter like her. But as a parent, there’s only so much control one can have. She wasn’t a child anymore, she was an adult, and she had done nothing wrong. She had simply fallen in love. Hard and twice.

            Loving wasn’t a crime, and as much as it pained her not to be able to share that happiness with her mother, as much as her mother couldn’t see how happy Oliver and Noah made her, she realized that her attempts to make her mother understand had to come to an end. After all, Oliver’s words spoke the truth: the most important people were the two of them, her fiancés.  

            Staring at the ring on her finger as realization dawned on her, she was filled with profound sadness. She had lost her father long ago, a man who had chosen to go his own way, unable to wait until his children were old enough to let them walk their own path and make their own decisions. And now, she felt she had lost her mother, too. 

            One parent had not waited to see her grow up; had not held her hand as she learned to walk the path of life. The other one was unwilling to see her walk hand in hand with two men. 

            Tears welled up in her eyes once more before she could stop them. She was a mess. 

            “I know it hurts,” Oliver’s voice soothed her, his hand running gently throught her hair, “but you gotta let it hurt until it doesn’t anymore. There are some things we cannot change, and this, I’m afraid, is one of them, baby.”

            Seeking solace, she moved to straddle him, unable to bear the distance anymore. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head on his shoulder, tears streaming down her cheeks and staining Oliver’s tee’s fabric. She let him envelop her in his embrace, pressing herself against his body as he held her close. He placed a couple of tender kisses on her shoulder and neck, offering her the comfort she needed. 

            She remained in his arms for a while, relishing the warmth of his body, the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat against her own, and the security of being in his arms. His whispered words of comfort in her ear were like a balm to her troubled soul. 

            She could easily drift off to sleep there, cocooned in his arms , feeling grateful that Oliver had dropped everything just to come home and be with her. 

            “Did you tell Noah?” She whispered, her lips brushing against his neck as she resisted the urge to move even an inch away from him. 

            “Yes, of course I did,” he replied, his hand finding the hem of her shirt and sneaking in to rub her back. She was soft as silk and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t missed the feel of her skin under his hands every single day and night he spent away. “But I want you to call him and talk to him. He’s worried.”

            The sigh that escaped her this time was heavy. 

            “What?” Oliver said, teasing her. “Did you think that picture of your underwear on the bedroom floor was going to do the trick?” 

            She shrugged, not particularly caring. 

            “Come on,” he encouraged, pullling out his iPhone, resolute on not extending that dispiriting situation any second longer. “He might still be up.”

            Without a chance to compose herself or check her appearance in the mirror, Oliver was already Facetiming Noah. 

            As soon as Noah’s face appeared on the screen, looking all cozied up in a hoddie and sat on his hotel bed, he saw her curled up in Oliver’s lap, her head resting on his shoulder with her tear-stained face, and his expression fell. Noah clicked his tongue, his brown eyes filling with sadness.

            “Kitten..”

            She tried to hold back another wave of tears and sobs. She sniffled and attempted to smile. But as soon as she uttered “I miss you”, she had to take a moment to steady her breathing and control her sobbing. Oliver pressed a kiss to her forehead. 

            A few moments were filled only with her soft crying, then, with some self-control, in the quiet of the house, she began to talk to Noah, recounting every hurtful thing her mother had said.          Instead of feeling tortured by reliving those moments, she focused on the relief of sharing her pain with her boys, feeling lighter now that they knew. 

            Noah did his best to offer comfort from the other end of the line, though he knew it wasn’t a simple fix. He was just grateful that Oliver had rushed home to be with her, knowing that besides words of reassurance, she needed their physical presence.

            Just as much as she needed them, he needed her and Oliver.

            All those nights on the road, sleeping in bunk beds or alone in hotel rooms, had been manageable until he fell in love. Suddenly, sleeping alone felt like a punishment for every misstep in life. He understood her perfectly. And considering what her mother had said… Fuck. All he wanted was to be there for her, to hold her while Oliver comforted her, feeling complete with them by his side.

            It was late where he was, and she could tell from the exhaustion etched in his eyes. Her own state wasn’t helping him at all, so she mustered the strength to encourage him to end the call and get the rest he needed. He promised her he’d be home soon. Just a few more days. Nothing would keep him from coming back home to her. 

            After hanging up, Oliver tenderly touched her face, his thumb stroking the side of her jaw as she breathed against him. 

            “You look tired, too,” he remarked.

            “I didn’t sleep much last night,” she admitted. 

            “Want to take a nap? I could use one myself,” he suggested. 

            With a nod, she attempted to rise from his lap, but Oliver shook his head. He grabbed a folded blanket from the sectional and urged her to lay down as he nestled in beside her, letting her find a comfortable position with her head on his chest and her legs intertwined with his. 

            He enveloped her and covered them both with the blanket. He kissed her hair tenderly and she reciprocated by pressing a kiss to his clavicle. After exchanging whispered “I love yous”, she finally allowed herself to drift off to sleep, comforted by the presence of at least one of her boys being home. 

Despite his own exhaustion after an impromptu flight and the whirlwind of the past twenty-four hours, Oliver found it difficult to fall assleep. He waited until her soft breathing indicated she was in a deep slumber before carefully disentangling himself from her arms and legs.

            Ensuring she was covered with the blanket, he tiptoed to the kitchen, where he leaned with his forearms against the cool marble tiles of the island as he unlocked his phone and texted Noah. 

            Oliver: Still up?

            Noah: Yep. Can’t sleep.          

            Without a second thought, he dialed his number, making sure to keep his voice low as to avoid waking her up. By the time he had filled a glass with water, Noah’s voice was on his ear. 

            “What’s up? Is she feeling any better?” Noah asked.

            “She’s passed out on the sofa,” Oliver informed him after taking a sip. “But she looks tired, and sad,” he continued, glancing towards the open hallway door that lead to the living room, as if he could see her. He could picture her gloomy features from before she’d fallen asleep. “How about you coming back earlier? Could you make it?” He asked, aware of the significant distance separating them. Noah was in Europe, not just a few states away. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you could make it, give her a surprise, cheer her up… She doesn’t just need me. She needs both of us. And,” he made a pause before changing his tone, “you owe me a blowjob.”

            “I don’t owe you a blowjob,” Noah replied, his voice rising slightly. “You didn’t send those tacos, man.”

            “I’ll drive you to the damn restaurant.”

            “Needy, huh?”

            “Very. I want to see you before I hit the road again,” he admitted, then softened again. “She needs you here, Noah. Think you can make it earlier than scheduled?”

            “Yeah, yeah…” he trailed off, as if preoccupied with something else. Oliver heard the clicking of a keyboard, muffled in the background. “I was actually just checking flights…”

            “Oh, good.”

            “The first one is in three hours. I could catch that one and—”

            “In three hours?” Oliver exclaimed, furrowing his brow. “Dude, get some sleep first. I didn’t mean for you to—”

            “I can’t sleep knowing she’s upset because of what her mom said to her,” Noah retorted, setting his MacBook aside and getting up from the bed. “We have a couple of interviews scheduled for tomorrow, but I’ll ask Jolly and Folio to handle them. I’m nearly done with my packing, so I can head to the airport in less than twenty minutes. If I catch that flight, I can make it home tomorrow before evening.”

            “Fuck. Okay. That’s great. It’ll give us a few hours together.” 

            “Yeah, just come pick me up at the airport, all right?” he concluded. “Keep her distracted with something. Tell her you’re going to get a haircut.”

            “Dude, she’s going to be glued to me the whole time because I’m leaving tomorrow night. And a haircut? That would be the lamest excuse after I left my own tour to be home with her. You have the worst ideas,” he complained as he shook his head. “Can you not get an Uber?” 

            “Just come pick me up,” Noah said, resolute, “and you’ll get that damn blowjob.” 

An hour and a half later, her voice calling out for Oliver echoed through the walls of the house’s ground floor. 

            Oliver appeared at the threshold of the archway into the living room, holding a tray with pastries and two mugs of hot chocolate.

            She blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes with one hand still half-covered by the fluffy blanket. Oliver struggled to decide if she looked adorable or too tempting to resist making love to her right there on the sofa.  

            “Am I dreaming?” She mumbled, prompting Oliver to let out a chuckle. 

            “Nah,” he replied, walking towards her. “These croissants were frozen. I thought Noah got rid of them after his lecture on how unhealthy and useless it is to buy frozen food, but surprise: he didn’t. So now I get to treat you,” he finished, setting the tray next to her. The smell of freshly baked croissants and hot chocolate filled her senses, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. 

            She gave him a tiny smile. 

            “Just don’t tell him I baked them for us,” Oliver added, his tone hushed, as if Noah was there and could hear them. He had changed into more comfortable clothes and was now wearing a white t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants she had washed and ironed more than two weeks ago.

            “I will tell him,” she whispered, with a hint of mischief in her voice. Her sleepy face, however, made her look more adorable than mischievous.  

            Oliver rolled his eyes. “He’ll make me wear the maid costume and cook homemade sugar-free croissants for him as punishment.”

            “You look adorable in that, though,” she commented, grabbing one of the croissants and using her other hand to catch the crumbs.  

            “Do I, now?”

            She nodded, her mouth already stuffed with a big bite. Oliver smiled and touched the corner of her lower lip, wiping away a crumb with his thumb. 

            “Feeling any better?”

            Swallowing, she nodded. 

            “What do you feel like doing?” he asked, still concerned. He had dropped everything to be home with her, so he would only do as she pleased. “Movie and cuddles?” he guessed. “We can take it easy and spend the rest of the day snuggled in here. We don’t have to go anywhere. We’ll order takeout for dinner, then maybe a hot bath before bed.”

            She absorbed his words, blinking and chewing slowly.

            That sounded like… Heaven. 

            Instead of quickly agreeing to his appeal, which was irresistible, she asked, “What time do you have to be at the airport tomorrow?” There was a note of anguish in her voice because she dreaded the answer. She just wanted him to stay for a while longer, to extend that dreamlike weekend that was, in fact, her real life. 

            “Not ‘til late at night. We have the entire day together tomorrow, don’t worry,” he reassured her again, taking his mug of hot chocolate to his lips. She watched as the dark brown liquid touched his lips and how his own tongue licked them clean afterward. “Let’s choose a movie and get comfy, yeah?”

            The next fifteen minutes slipped away as they struggled to decide on a movie. By the time they settled on one neither had seen, the croissants were gone and Oliver had finished his chocolate. They cuddled through the entire film, occasionally shifting positions, playing with each other’s hair, and kissing. They made comments about the movie and chatted about he film and other trivial things. 

            By the time the sun began to set on the horizon, the house was enveloped in the serenity their nearly routine evening. She was in the living room, tidying up the small mess they had made, folding blankets, and arranging the cushions on the sofa. Meanwhile, Oliver busied himself in the kitchen, plating the takeaway food that had arrived just minutes before. 

            If Noah had been there, he would have been nearing his time out in the studio. Then he would’ve joined oliver in the kitchen to set the table. 

            That was a familiar routine, which happened at least once a week, usually on Fridays, marking the start of a long weekend where work was left behind and their time was fully devoted to each other. 

            Whenever the three of them were engrossed in individual tasks, especially in the afternoon or evening, the house exuded a peaceful ambiance. Sometimes, Noah would light incense and play relaxing background music as they went about their activities. If they crossed paths in the hallway or in any other room, Noah would grab her waist and pull her in for a kiss. If he encountered Oliver, she would hear a sweet exchange of words and laughs between them from the other room. 

            It was lovely, what they had built. A precious home and a beautiful family. 

             After filling their stomachs and clearing up the kitchen, Oliver urged her upstairs for a well-deserved hot bath, but she declined, stating that she prefered the shower. 

            As mesmerizing as the idea of a hot bath sounded, the reality was that, despite their efforts to get a larger-than-average tub for the master bedroom’s bathroom, Oliver was too tall to fit comfortably if she was also inside. What to say about Noah? He just outright hated bathtubs and found it a waste of space. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fit in with either of them; he simply couldn’t fit comfortably on his own.

            After some persuasion, she finally found herself naked under the hot shower, with Oliver’s bare body behind her, his hands massaging shampoo into her hair. The intimacy of the moment was heightened by the familiarity of the shampoo the three of them shared. 

            They took turns washing each other, making sure to apply a bit of pressure here and there to relieve sore muscles, especially Oliver’s, strained from days of performing on stage for over two hours and getting to bed late. The physical demands of his routine weren’t always ideal, but she appreciated how they had toned his body over the years, giving him strenght and stamina. She relished his manly physique, a mix of rough and soft areas that she found squishy. She just loved every part of him. 

            When he got down on one knee to soap up her thighs, she took the opportunity to wash his hair, enjoying the sweetness that spread through her veins and to her heart when he pressed a few kisses from her navel down to her lower belly. 

            After they were thoroughly washed, Oliver rinsed his hair under the water one last time, throwing his head back and closing his eyes, lips parted, neck exposed and muscles on display as he moved his hair back with both hands. 

            As attractive as the sight was —which, under other circumstances, would have just gotten her on her knees, and not exactly to wash his thighs—, the part of her that craved a deeper connection took control. She wanted a closeness that went beyond the physical act of giving each other pleasure. 

            She wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her cheek to his chest, acutely aware of the ticking clock and the precious time slipping away from them.  

            Oliver didn’t say anything. He kept the water running and hugged her back, resting his chin atop her head. The mirror above the sink and the window overlooking the garden had fogged up, and the vapor was filling the room even though they had left the door open.

            Minutes passed, the water turning cold, droplets hitting the tiles, her breaths soft and steady, following the rhythm of Oliver’s heartbeat. When she lazily ran her fingers down his back and wandered down to one of his buttocks, she felt him shiver slightly, and her curse nearly disrupted their peace. 

            “You’re cold,” she pointed out, peering up at him. 

            “It’s okay, love.”

            But it wasn’t. Taking his hand, she turned off the water and pulled them out of the shower, handing Oliver his towel while she grabbed hers. 

            Oliver wasn’t done soothing her. He let her dry herself up and brush her hair. He left the bathroom for a couple of minutes to get some underwear, finding another one of Noah’s boxers in his drawer. Instead of pointing it out to her and reminding her that the boxers with the chibi drawings of Titan were Noah’s, he laughed and opted to keep them there. He would enjoy watching Noah huff and rummage through his own underwear looking for those specific boxers when he returned. 

            Returning to the bathroom only wearing black boxers, his wair still wet and dripping, he used the towel to dry it a bit before discarding it on the floor and refocusing his attention on his girl. She was occupied checking her eyebrows in the mirror, a habit he found amusing because he could never understand what she thought was wrong with them. Taking advantage of her distraction, he poured some hydrating lotion into his palm, rubbed his hands together, and kneeled to spread the cream on her thighs. 

            She let out a cry of surprise at the sudden cold sensation, but quickly adjusted to it and found herself enamored with the way he looked up at her as he massaged her body once more, tenderly applying lotion to her skin. The smell of lavender filled the room as he stood up to gently smooth it onto her shoulders, his hands moving in slow, soothing circles. She was truly getting spoiled as his touch traced the contours of her arms and back, each caress a silent promise of his love and devotion. She closed her eyes when she felt threathened by another wave of emotion and gratitude. She wouldn’t be hard on herself again and say that she didn’t deserve him, or Noah, but the truth was that they were too good to her, and her heart kept on swelling every time they shared a simple yet intimate moment as such.

            “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, her cheeks red—perhaps from shyness or perhaps because it was too hot in the bathroom.  

            “Shh. I love pampering you, and that’s why I’m here now. In two weeks I’ll be back to busy boyfri—fiancé, sorry, mode, with no time to shower with his loves because the artist’s life is a twenty-four hour job. So, rejoice,” he finished the sentence by touching her nose and leaving a stain of cream for her to spread.

            She muttered an “ouch” and glared at him, nearly pouting at the truth of his words. 

            While that had been an isolated scenario and the timing of both bands’ tours had coincided leaving her alone for quite a long period of time, she couldn’t really complain about her job or about her life in the big picture. She was as happy as any girl could be with two men loving her unconditionally day and night, which made her aware that if somedays they were not attentive as she wished, it wasn’t because they chose to be distant. It was their demanding jobs, so different from her mundane one. Their careers sometimes took a toll on them, but it was a sacrifice they made for something they loved, and she admired them for it. They were passionate and dedicated, as they were with her, too. She would never ask them to prioritize her over their bands because they themselves knew when to put a stop to it and get their feet back on solid ground. It was sometimes a difficult balance to navigate, but with each other’s help, they knew how to make it work without letting it consume them anymore. 

            Her eyes followed Oliver as he walked barefoot to the other side of the bedroom, heading towards the drawer where he would find his worn-out clothes for sleeping. She watched with a tender expression as a smile appeared on his face when he spotted how neatly his t-shirts and sweats were stored in the drawer. As mundane and tedious as the task of folding clothes may seem, it was something both of them enjoyed doing together every once in a while—seated on the carpeted floor, picking up each item from the laundry basket and adding it to one of the three piles next to them: Oliver’s, Noah’s, and hers. 

            Folding clothes was sort of a meditation, and given that she had spent the last weekends alone, one of them had been dedicated to reorganizing the cupboards and drawers, including refolding all those clothes that had been thrown to the back of the cupboard. 

            She could have stared at Oliver for hours, but the clock would still keep ticking. 

            Licking her lips and rubbed the heel of her left foot on her right calf, her expression fell a little as she called out to him. 

            “Yeah?” He asked. 

            “Make love to me?”

            Her voice came out as a whisper, a plea that he didn’t understand, for she didn’t have to ask for that. Ever. So he nearly laughed, but aware that maybe it wasn’t the best reaction, he dropped back into the drawer the clothes he had picked and walked to her, with determined strides, his green eyes focused on her as if nothing could make him look away.

            “Did you even consider I wouldn’t intend to?”

            Uncertainty clouded her eyes, but her hand released the corner of the towel she had secured atop her chest, letting the only fabric covering her body fall to the floor.

            Oliver’s gaze fell to her breasts, and then down below, as if he hadn’t seen that same beautiful body, those edges and curves, merely five minutes ago.

            She parted her lips to speak, to ask him to touch her, but Oliver was quicker. He picked her up in his arms, prompting her to wrap her legs around his waist. She stared down at him for a few seconds, struck by the light those green eyes contained, how much power to turn someone’s life into something beautiful with just one look. 

            Oliver carried her to bed. He laid her down on the mattress, her head propped up on the  numerous pillows that Noah, ever the minimalist, didn’t understand. In a matter of seconds, Oliver discarded his boxers and crawled up to cover her body with his. Holding his weight on hands and knees, he bent his head down and kissed her, her hand sneaking up to the back of his head and tangling in his curls, still damp from the shower and with the lingering scent of the shampoo.

            The kiss was hungry, desperate, wet. She kept pulling him down to her, as if she could do more than just kiss him; as if she could just drink him in, swallow him, keep him in her heart forever. 

            He already was. 

            His hand pushed at one of her knees, silently instructing her to open her legs for him. When she complied, he touched her folds, his fingers navigating her delights just for a couple of seconds before sinking two fingers inside of her, letting her wrap around his digits with welcoming warmth.

            Her hips arched towards him. 

            “What do you want, love? Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you,” he murmured.

            “Just you,” she sighed, knowing that he would always keep his promises.

             Skipping foreplay, he removed his fingers from inside of her and sat back on his heels, asking her for a condom that she retrieved from one of the drawers on the other side of the bed. He put it on, then spat on his hand and covered her core with his saliva before leaning over her again, fusing his body with hers, one inch at a time. 

            He loved how her breath caught in her throat with every movement, every push in. Her eyes widened and her expression contorted into one of pleasure.

            When he was finally settled in to the hilt, he sought her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers before placing their hands above her head, on the pillows.

            He began to move. A delicate, sweet and hot cadence. 

            He understood that this time it was not just about pleasure; it was about the connection that having their bodies merged brought to each other. It was about finding peace and safety in the vulnerable state of offering yourself to the other, about the relief that it brought to her —and him— knowing they had found each other in this massive universe and that nothing else mattered at the time. 

            Just him, her, and the ghost of Noah, the lingering scent of him that still permeated his side of the bed, on the sheets that she had refused to change after they had left.

            They kissed. Oliver swallowed her moans, relished in the way her nails dug onto his back, the way her thighs pressed him to her, the way she breathed him in and held him, wordlessly telling him she would never let him go. 

            Making love like that focused on the fire of their sexual energy, their passion, and desire, and let those align with their hearts and souls with every thrust and every cry in response. It brought them balance and harmony. It was something beyond the drive and rush experienced any other time, yet someething they needed all the same. 

            That night, she needed that, the slow pace, the eye-contact, and he didn’t mind. How could he? He was benefiting from it all the same. 

            Ever since Noah introduced them to this slower, more mindful practice, Oliver’s connection with both of them had deepened, and it had brought him closer to them (if that was even possible).

            Lost in the passage of time, Oliver whimpered against her, his breaths ragged as he penetrated her over and over and as he looked down at her expression, her eyes closed because she was getting close, her mouth agape in pure bliss, little sweet and honeyed sounds coming out in waves, music to his ears. 

            A few thrusts grew harder and rougher unintentionally, and she moaned loudly, trying to supress a scream by biting onto his arms, right onto the inked angel of death that adorned his skin.  One of his hands cupped her breast, squeezing and rolling her nipple between two fingers, giving her just the touch she needed. His face was buried in the crook of her neck, but his voice reached her ears as he told her he was about to come and needed to feel her climaxing around him, too. 

            The seconds that followed were intense, but not very loud. He spasmed inside of her at the same time that she arched to him, their hips meeting. They rode each other’s orgasms, and the mattress welcomed the dead weight of their exhausted and sated bodies a while after. 

            The bliss that came after that moment gave way to a heavy, contented silence filled with the heady and comforting fragance of sex. 

            Oliver’s body pressed down on her, just a tad sweaty, but she found her sanctuary in his embrace, only imperfect due to the missing weight pressing on her from the other side.  

            “Thank you,” she whispered after she removed some hair from her face and brushed her lips against Oliver’s stubbled chin. Her thighs trembled a little after she let them fall on the mattress, on either side of Oliver’s legs.

            “Always,” he replied, tickling her cheek with his wild strands of hair and tracing a path of kisses down her jaw and neck until he could taste her nipple in his mouth. A moment later, he was back at her mouth, his large hand cupping her cheek, his words seeking reassurance of her well-being. 

            She sighed for what felt a long time. Her fingers, in the meantime, weaved into his damp hair, holding him close. The weight of his body on hers felt grounding, a reminder that he was there, real and solid. His presence and the feeling of him filler her, from the spot between her legs to her heart and soul, was a balm to her frayed nerves, soothing away the remnants of her ealier distress.

            But still. Something was missing. Someone.

            “I’m still upset,” she admitted after a breather from his kiss. She didn’t want to say it right after they made love, but she knew Oliver would understand. That’s what that entire day had been about: her understanding that he would listen, try to comprehend, and never ever diminish fer feelings and emotions. 

            “Why?” he asked. Their voices mere whispers in the night, in a room that also seemed to miss Noah’s presence. “Is it because I have to leave? Doll, Noah will be here in no time.”

            “I know… I’m so happy that you’re here, that you came for me…” Her eyes had wandered down, slightly conflicted at her complaint. “But I want you both,” she confessed, loking back up at him. It wasn’t much of a confession because he already knew that. That had actually been the truth that had got them three together in the first place, the confession to Noah that had urged him to find Oliver and propose to him to share the girl of their dreams in the middle of a tour in the UK. 

            “I miss him, too,” Oliver reminded her, palming her hair, his cock still inside of her. He wouldn’t leave the warmth of her body until she asked him to. Missing Noah was one of the things he hated the most in their relationship. Sometimes they spent months without seeing each other. Oliver would come home and Noah would have left the day before, keeping them on opposite schedules. That was why last year, Oliver had tried to get Bad Omens to play in the same summer festivals as Bring Me The Horizon, so that at least they could be together after their performances and while traveling from one country to another, sparing the enormous pain of coming back home to realize the other wasn’t there yet. 

            It felt relieveing to share that feeling with her. It felt like missing him together took some of the weight off their shoulders. They would lean on each other and wait until Noah was back. Luckily for her —and for him— Noah was now on a flight on his way home, and unbeknownst to her, she would have both his boys home tomorrow, all devoted and willing to kiss the same ground she walked on. 

            “You know what I miss the most about him, actually?” Oliver started to say, his tone a bit more earning and cheerful as he rested his body weight on his elbows and as his fingers moved to reach her ears and start to play with her earrings. 

            “What?”

            “That annoying habit of his of touching my legs with his bare feet under the blanket.”

            Her laugh filled his heart with such relief that he couldn’t even put it into words. He had felt so anguished when Jack called him the day before. All he could think about was how she must have been coping alone after meeting her mother to tell her about the wedding. As Jack spoke to him on the phone, Oliver recalled that night after Jack and Sylvie’s engagement party. Noah and he had tried to make love to her to keep her racing thoughts away from the disastrous first meeting with the woman who would be their mother-in-law, but she had been totally restrained by her anxiety and so upset that they hadn’t been able to calm her down for two days. 

            He didn’t want her to feel like that again, and he knew her state would be even worse now since they weren’t there with her. That’s when he grabbed his phone, wallet, and passport, and headed to the airport. 

             “You know he does that on purpose, right?” she told him, remembering all the times she had been pissed at their antics on either side of the bed. She often found herself squished between their two bodies as Oliver kicked Noah to keep his naked feet away from his calves and Noah pretended to be half asleep while trying to touch him again. In the meantime, she was getting knocked from both sides, suffering Oliver’s kicks and the brush of Noah’s cold feet against her own. “He loves it when you squirm under the sheets.”

            “Of course I know,” oliver admitted. “I’m going to make him pay for it one of these days.”

            “I’d love to see that.”

            Wriggling underneath him, Oliver understood she was getting uncomfortable. 

            He got up only to remove the condom and clean them up a bit, then tucked them both under the covers, letting her find her safety cocoon not on his chest or in the crook of his neck, but on his bicep, which she often mentioned could be used as a pillow. She found exceptional comfort in resting her head against the angel of death tattooed on his arm, his bicep big enough to offer the perfect-sized spot for her to drift into the realm of dreams. 

            The only thing missing was Noah’s arm around her stomach as she lay on her side, keeping her protected from all the evil in the world as he reached over to grab onto Oliver as well, his palm finding his place on Oliver’s hip. 

            They would keep their bodies connected and fall into a peaceful sleep, as if enchanted by a magic they couldn’t see but that was always there, always present in their love for each other.  

CHAPTER 3: THE CROW WITCH - COMING SOON

[novashelby]

The Girl With the Smile: Chapter One

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Tilly (OFC)

Warnings: Mention of drinking, alcoholism, language, typical period attitude, sexism, depression, mental illness.

Word Count: 1.8

Story Summary: Matilda "Tilly" Swanson was a klutz who never really wanted to be a maid. Arthur Shelby was a manic wreck who never wanted the maid to begin with. What happens when a miserable old sod starts to find comfort in his younger and silly maid?

Chapter Summary: Arthur isn't very happy when Tommy brings over a young woman. To him, he's fine and just wants to be left alone.

Please enjoy! Reblogs and comments encouraged.

“Arthur, look at you!” Tommy Shelby could be described as a functional mess, but Arthur Shelby was a functional nothing. Scattered about the floor of his darkened parlor lay empty whiskey bottles, discarded cigarettes that the ashtray could no longer hold, and broken things that Tommy couldn’t identify. Tommy covered his nose with his handkerchief, eyes scanning around before landing on his brother. “You’re a bloody fookin’ disaster. How do you function in this filth, eh?” Tommy kicked the wooden leg of the red velvet chair his brother rested on; slumped and decaying in his own aroma. 

Arthur gurgled out a train of incomprehensible gibberish. “Wha-s-ye-wan’, Aye?!” Fetal position, he curled up with the bottle of rum, turning himself so as to not look at Tommy. “Fook off!” That was clear. His trousers were soiled, shit stained, and hair unkempt. His stubble almost matched his mustache in length. 

“Now, Arthur!” Tommy removed his cigarette from his lips and rubbed it out in the ashtray, adding it to the ground. His brother wasn’t hardly a smoker, but he assumed that he must have taken it up when Linda left. “It’s been three fookin’ weeks now-”

“Fuck off-”

“In a minute, eh?” Neither brother wanted to deal with the pathetic situation at hand, but Tommy feared if he let it go any longer, Arthur would bloody off himself. “I think I have been quite patient in terms of…of whatever this fuckin’ is.” From behind Tommy, the door opened a crack, and the slight bit of sunlight left of the day peeked through. Tommy shot a look behind him, and said, “I told you to stay outside-”

“I know!” A soft, young voice spoke suddenly. Arthur grunted, shifting a bit and squinting towards the door. Through the slightly opened mahogany door, slipped in a young woman, delicately, but simply dressed. With gloved hands, she gripped a small suitcase that held no more than a few sacred belongings. Both men looked at her for a minute, and she quickly apologized, taking off her hat. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t wear such a thing inside, but now my hair is quite messy and wow, I just…wow.” Once she registered the sight before her, she took a step back and slowly looked up at Tommy with a gaped mouth. “Mr. Shelby-”

“I’ll pay you fifteen pounds instead!” Quickly, Tommy jumped over to her, gently touching her arms. “Fifteen pounds, a good more than you got working for me, eh?” He grinned, pinching at her chin. His grin slowly dropped as he let out a sigh of exhaustion. It wasn’t an ideal situation. What maid wanted to be a babysitter, housekeeper, and cook all for one smelly, distraught, and difficult man? “C’mon, fifteen pounds, eh?” He tried, tapping her arms. She offered a sympathetic smile, right shoulder shrugging a bit. “Alright, alright. Twenty pounds. That’s double the national average!” 

Hand motioning to Arthur, who had passed out sometime within the mix of conversation. Sympathetically, she said, “Mr. Shelby, I’m grateful, but your brother isn’t exactly known for being easy. That’s why Sandra and Clara rejected the offer-”

“And you didn’t because you’re a hard worker!” As his hand hit harder against her arm, she winced. “And you are good with people, Miss. Swanson.” The maid eased her shoulders and nodded, pushing her suitcase to the cleanest spot she could find. “Arthur!” Tommy kicked the leg of the chair once again, that time hard enough it almost dug the drunken fool out of his inebriated state. Jumping up, he yelled out, thrashing and seething. “Arthur!” Tommy yelled again, pushing his older brother down in the chair. “This is Miss. Swanson.” Arthur could hardly find her through his double vision. Squinting, he grumbled a few words that neither made sense nor were relevant. “I’ve taken her from my own team of maids-”

“I-ish wan’ no mai’.” 

She blinked. “I’m sorry, I don’t speak Romani. English?”

Tommy swallowed, dryly stating, “that was English.”

“Oh.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Arthur!” Tommy picked his brother up straight and made him sit like a normal human being. “You be kind to Miss. Swanson, you understand me? Hm?” Pinching his cheeks, Tommy leaned in. “She’s goin’ to ‘elp ya’ around here, alright? Make sure you’re keeping clean, eating, showering, getting your fuckin’ arse to work! Three Goddamn weeks, Arthur! Haven’t come to bloody fuckin’ work in three fookin’ weeks.” He and Arthur wrestled for a moment over the whiskey bottle. Tommy tried to pull the bottle away, but Arthur kept it close to his chest with a grip stronger than anything. “Alrigh’, fine! Fuckin’ have the bottle, but until you can fuckin’ shower and shave, you’re off the bottle, eh? No more!” 

He walked over to her, tired of it. She hesitantly looked over at the sunken man and then to Tommy. “Are you sure I should stay here…alone?” Motioning to him, she continued, “I mean, he’s a bit neurotic. What if he…I don’t know, hurts me?”

Tommy sighed. “My number is on the phone. If I don’t pick up, I’ve left numerous other numbers. He won’t hurt you-”

“You didn’t say that with confidence, exactly, Mr. Shelby.”

“He’s never hurt a woman,” he corrected before adding, “never before. He’s small. Um, not much to him. You can take him. Believe in  yourself, eh? I’m counting on you.” As he stood above her, cupping her cheeks, and leaning down. “Tilly,” he said, affectionately. “Mr. Shelby is counting on you.” Giving in, she offered a little smile, the rounds of her cheeks turning red. “I couldn’t ask anyone, but you.”

“Alright, Mr. Shelby,” she agreed. “Twenty pounds a month, thirty pound bonus upfront-”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, eh-”

“But you couldn’t ask anyone, but me, remember?” She grinned, a little twinkle in her eyes. Tommy sighed, pulling away and reaching into his wallet, digging out ten, mumbling how he’d supplement the other twenty. “Don’t worry…they say you should always high ball a man, not low ball.” Tommy Shelby couldn’t even be angry at that. It was as if she was beating him at his own game. All that stuff he said was simply a trick to get her to stay. Tilly, in fact, was the last maid he wanted to ask; clumsy, oblivious, and a bit…unruly. But he adored the girl in some way or another. 

“Spend it wisely,” he said, a slight sarcastic undertone as he fixed his hat. He nodded to the girl and affectionately touched her shoulder in passing as he left. The door closed behind her with a quick swift bang, it echoed throughout the home. 

When the silence returned and the room felt still, she looked over at the man, slumped over in the chair. “Well then,” she said, with a smile, clasping her gloved hands. “Why don’t we open some windows?” she offered, and waited for any sign of life. But he was cold. Out cold. Cautiously, she took slow, careful strides towards him. “Never in my life,” she whispered, studying how he cuddled the half-drunk bottle and slept with a gaped mouth, a stream of drool hitting the arm of the chair. Outreaching her gloved hand, she poked him. “Alright, you!” Poke, poke, poke. On the third poke, they scared each other. Arthur shot awake, thrashing the bottle about, hollering in a drunken state while Tilly jumped back finding refuge behind the matching velvet sofa.

“The fook is ‘ere?!” he yelled, dropping the bottle. Tilly gasped as glass shattered and rum splashed. When he saw no one, he allowed himself to mourn. “Me fookin’ bottle. Last fookin’ one.”

Tilly slowly peered over the couch, eyes wide. “Mr. Shelby?”

“OI!” Quickly, he looked over, their eyes connecting. “Are you a whore?” he managed to get out, perhaps a little hopeful.

“N-no, I’m not,” she said, slowly standing, hands palms up. Cautiously, they watched one another as she walked around the sofa. “Your brother, Thomas, hired me to clean your home. Thought you’d need some help-”

“Fuck off,” he said, throwing himself back on the chair, refusing to look at her. “And tell him to fook right off, too. Sick of the lot of ya, can’t leave me alone.”

Tilly knew he’d be difficult, but she overestimated her patience for it. Swallowing, she winced. “Well, um-”

“Well what!? Get it out, eh?”

“I can’t leave,” she explained. “I can’t leave, and well, for one, you live quite from from where I’d need to go and I don’t drive. And there’s no car.” She stopped talking, deciding that it was useless. “How about this!? We can open some blinds and let some sunlight in. I suppose some brightness would do you well.” She walked over to a curtain covered window and pulled it open, allowing the last bit of sunlight to come through. It brightened the place immediately. She was quite shocked to find that everything was not black, but indeed varying different colors. “You see, Mr. Shelby, doesn’t it look much better already?” 

But like a bear who hadn’t seen sunlight for a winters time, he hissed out, covering his eyes. “Woman! The bloody ‘ell are you doing to me?!”

“Oh please,” she said, walking to the other window, pulling the curtain. “A little sunlight will be good for you. Then I can start cleaning up this mess. Perhaps make you a quick supper. You’ll need some food with all that alcohol in you. You’re just withering away.”

“I wish I would wither away right now,” he mumbled under his breath. “I want you to leave, Miss. Just leave and go wherever. Don’t have any bloody need for a woman that isn’t blowing me cock-”

“Vile,” she commented, pursing her lips together. She had just picked up a broom to clean the shattered glass, but she immediately put it down. “Alright, if you are just going to be that bloody stubborn, I will call your brother to come pick me up. But I warn you, Mr. Shelby, he won’t be very happy-”

“Well, he can fuck on off, too-”

“And he did,” she snipped, walking to the phone and picking up the ear piece. Tilly looked back as her finger dialed around the numbers. “And he left me here with your sorry arse. You’re a miserable one, aren’t you? And to think I remembered you kinder at one point…Hello! Mr. Shelby?”

On the other end, Tommy Shelby rubbed his temple. She hardly lasted as long as he thought. “Yes, Tilly,” he said, dropping all sense of formality. “Put him on the phone.”

Tilly called to Arthur. “Your brother would like to speak with you.” There was a groan and a crack of joints as the man slowly lifted from the chair. Wobbling over, he grabbed the phone and slammed it down. “That was quite-”

“Let me show you to your room,” he said, cutting her off. “It’s either I listen to him or I listen to you, and I’m tired of listening to him for forty bloody fuckin’ years.”

Taglist: @lau219 @vivianleighwishesshewasme @wonderlanddreamer @mysatnin @umbrielchip000

@hollyluvseveryone4ever13

@lilvampirina

@jaymcdowell

@kmc1989

@lilladygrinningsoul @fiercelittlemouse @peakyswritings @runnning-outof-time @brummiereader

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

what am i to you | pablo gavi [part iii]

🌧️synopsis: It’s well past midnight when a knock on your door stops you in your tracks. You don’t want to open it – you already know who it is. And when you see Pablo, drenched and drunk, standing in the rain, all you feel is anger. tags: angst, reconciliation, love confessions, happy ending. (written in 2nd person but no mention of yn) (around 2.9k words) (this part is dedicated to @htpssgavi)

you can read the first part here.

The storm outside has you on edge. Each gust of wind rattles the windows, and the rain beats down so hard you swear the roof might cave in. The rain outside is relentless, thunder growls in the distance, each rumble sending shivers up your spine. You’ve always hated storms – how they make the world feel unpredictable, out of control. The power flickers once, twice, but holds steady. Wrapped in your too-thin pajamas, you pace the living room, arms crossed tight against the cold seeping in from every corner. 

You look at the clock. It’s well past midnight, but sleep feels impossible. You’re alone in the house, and it’s too late to call anyone without sounding pathetic.

You’re shivering and should grab a blanket, but every time you think about it, a flash of lightning freezes you in place, and you’re stuck listening to the wind howl like it’s coming for you. You're pacing back and forth, back and forth, trying to burn off the nervous energy. Your feet ache with every step, still hurting from the past few days, but you don’t care. It’s better than sitting still. 

Lightning flashes, illuminating the room for a split second, and you freeze. A loud knock at the door follows, startling you so badly your heart leaps into your throat. You stand frozen, listening, hoping you imagined it. But then it comes again – three sharp, insistent raps. 

You swallow hard, the icy fear of the unknown crawling up your spine. Who could possibly be out in this weather? Who would show up at this hour? Your hands are trembling as you inch toward the door. Each step feels like it takes a year, the storm outside roaring louder with every second. When you finally peek through the peephole, the air leaves your lungs all at once. It’s Pablo. Of course, it’s him.

You’re not relieved. You’re furious. The sight of him standing there, drenched to the bone, just makes your blood boil. What the hell is he doing here? Your feet ache worse as you stomp the rest of the way to the door, anger bubbling up with every step. Your fingers tighten on the doorknob, and for a moment, you consider not opening it at all. 

When you yank it open, the cold wind rushes in, biting at your skin and making your shivering even worse. He’s soaked to the bone, rain dripping from his hair and clothes. He looks as miserable as you feel. But instead of pity, all you feel is anger.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you snap, your voice sharp enough to cut through the storm.

“Can I come in?” His voice is barely audible over the rain. Still, you don’t move.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, your eyes narrowing. The smell of alcohol is faint but undeniable.

“Yeah, a little,” he admits, not meeting your eyes.

“Are you kidding me?” you spit, crossing your arms even though the cold air is biting at your skin. “You show up here, like this, in the middle of the night? What do you want, Pablo?”

He takes a shaky step forward, and you instinctively step back. His shoulders sag, and he looks at you like he’s about to break. “What do you want me to do?” he says, his voice cracking. “Do you want me to kiss you? Would that fix this? Would it make it hurt less?”

You gape at him, stunned into silence for a moment before the anger surges back, hotter and heavier than before. “Are you serious right now? You better remember this, Pablo. You’re the one who is destroying our friendship. It isn't my feelings for you. It is the fact that you’re an asshole.”

You hate how your chest twists at the sight of him soaked and shivering. Hate that even now, a part of you wants to pull him inside and make him warm. But you’ve learned the hard way that letting him in never ends well for you. Your jaw tightens and you say: “Go home, okay? I’m not doing this.”

He flinches like you’ve slapped him, and for a second, you think he’s going to leave. But instead, he just stands there, looking lost and small and so incredibly stupid. “Can I sleep here?” he mumbles. “I can’t drive!”

“How did you even get here?” you demand, your voice rising with disbelief.

“Uber,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Then Uber yourself home,” you snap, already stepping back to close the door.

“My phone’s dead,” he says, and there’s something so pitiful in the way he says it that you hesitate. “Why can’t I stay? I’ve stayed here a hundred times before.”

“Because we’re not friends anymore,” you say, your voice shaking with anger. “Are you even listening to this conversation?”

He looks genuinely confused, his brows knitting together as he stares at you. “What are you talking about?” he says, his voice soft and bewildered. Then, he looks even sadder. “What do you mean we’re not friends?”

Your anger wavers, just slightly. 

You sigh, the fight draining out of you all at once. “Fine. Go to sleep,” you mutter, stepping aside to let him in. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

He nods, looking like a scolded child. “Thank you.”

The silence between you is heavy as he stands there, dripping water onto your floor. You toss him a towel and point toward the couch. “Sit. And don’t talk.”

But, of course, he doesn’t listen. “I had a dream,” he says suddenly, his voice quiet but insistent. “About you.”

You whip around to face him. “I don’t care, Pablo.”

He looks down, rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a faint flush on his cheeks, and when he finally meets your eyes, there’s something there that makes you nervous. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it,” he continues, ignoring your protest. “It felt... real. Too real.”

You scoff, crossing your arms. “What, did you dream I magically forgave you? That we’re friends again?”

He rubs his neck again, avoiding your eyes, his words tumbling out too quickly, like he’s trying to outrun his own embarrassment. ‘It wasn’t... just that,’ he stammers. “It was... different.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you mean, ‘different’?”

He looks away, running a hand through his damp hair. “You know what I mean.”

You think for a second…

“Oh my god. Are you seriously implying –”

“I didn’t come here because of that!” he says quickly, his face burning now. “I just... it made me think about us. About you. And how I’ve been such an idiot.”

“You think one stupid wet dream changes anything?” you say, your voice rising. 

“I’m not saying that,” he says, his voice steadying. “I’m saying I’m sorry. For everything. For not seeing what was right in front of me.”

You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes. “You don’t get it. I’m serious, just shut up!”

“No, listen,” he says, stepping closer. “I need you to know that I –”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, holding up a hand. “Don’t say it.”

He stops, his expression crumbling. 

You stare at him, the weight of his words pressing down on you. Finally, you sigh, gesturing toward the couch. “Go. To. Sleep. We’re not talking about this anymore tonight.”

You walk away, leaving him alone with the storm outside and the cold silence inside. You slam your bedroom door shut behind you and lean against it, heart racing. You don’t know if you’ll sleep tonight, not with him just a room away.

part 2

A pale light filters through the curtains, casting cold streaks of sunlight glow across your bedroom wall. You’ve been awake for a while, if you even truly fell asleep. Your mind’s been running in circles, replaying the storm, the argument, Pablo’s stupid, pretty and sad face.

You can’t stay in bed any longer, so, quietly, you push your door open, the hinges creak just loud enough to make you wince. The living room is still dim and you expect to find him passed out, maybe snoring. Instead, he’s sitting on the couch, awake. He’s shirtless, his damp shirt draped over the armrest to dry. He’s holding a glass of water, staring into it like it might hold all the answers to last night’s mess.

He looks up when he hears you, his eyes soft but tired. “Couldn’t sleep either?”

You shake your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “Not really.”

You’re not sure what to do. Your plan was to creep out, grab a cup of tea, and avoid him until daylight made things less awkward. But here he is, looking... smaller somehow. He sets the glass down on the table and leans back. “Sorry about last night.”

You exhale slowly, sitting down in the armchair opposite him. “Which part? Showing up drunk? Talking about your dream? Or just being an ass in general?”

He flinches, but there’s no anger in his eyes. Just regret. “All of it,” he says, “I shouldn’t have come here like that.”

You let the silence stretch out between you, not ready to fill it. Outside, the first birds start to sing, the storm has passed without you even noticing.

Finally, he speaks again. “I wasn’t lying, though. About the dream. About what it made me realize.”

You lean back, crossing your legs as you watch him carefully. “And what’s that, Pablo? That you can’t live without me?” There’s sarcasm in your voice, but it doesn’t land the way you want it to.

His expression softens, his brows drawing together like he’s trying to find the right words. “Maybe,” he says quietly. “Or maybe... that I’ve been an idiot. That I’ve been so scared of losing you, I never let myself imagine what it’d be like to have you.”

Your heart stumbles in your chest, but you don’t let it show. “You were pretty clear about not seeing me that way. More than once.”

“I didn’t know,” he admits. “Not until now.”

“And now, what? What if you’re just confused?”

“What if you’re confused?” he counters, his voice calm but pointed.

“Did you really change your mind because of a dream?”

“I know, it sounds stupid.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But I was wrong. I thought keeping you at arm’s length was the right thing to do. That it’d protect us, protect our friendship. But all I did was push you away.”

Your voice wavers, rising in defense. “Boys are disgusting. You’re just horny. You don’t even like me.”

“I love you,” he says firmly.

You shake your head, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “Yeah, but you don’t like me.”

His lips twitch into a faint, sad smile. “If boys are disgusting, then girls are confusing. Tell me what you want.”

You don’t respond right away. You’re not sure how to.

You’re so tired of having this conversation, it takes physical effort for you to get words out. “I want to mean to you what you mean to me.”

“I was thinking,” he continues, “About all the times I ran to you when things got hard. How you were always there, always patient, even when I didn’t deserve it. And how I’ve spent so much time telling myself you were the one thing I couldn’t have, I never stopped to ask if I actually wanted more. If I was just scared to want it.”

You swallow hard. “And now? What do you want now, Pablo?”

He looks at you then, really looks at you. The sunlight catches the edges of his face, highlighting the beauty of his features. “You. I want you,” he says simply. “But only if you still want me.”

You just sit there, the silence stretching out between you again. The birds are louder now, the morning fully settling in.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you admit.

He nods, like he’s been expecting that. “I’ll prove it,” he says, his tone steady. “Whatever it takes. I don’t want to lose you again.”

The sincerity in his voice feels like a balm, soothing some of the ache you’ve been carrying. You don’t have all the answers yet, and neither does he. 

“You’re making breakfast,” you say, standing up and heading toward the kitchen.

He blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

“You heard me. If you’re serious about proving it, you can start by making breakfast.”

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, and for the first time since he knocked on your door, you feel like you can breathe again.

part 3

The lake looks the same as it always has. Flat, endless, reflecting the blue sky and the thin wisp of clouds. It’s peaceful, like it’s always been, and you’re starting to think that’s why you came here. Why he came here.

The breeze is gentle, carrying that earthy lake smell that you love so much. It’s early, the kind of early where everything feels softer, slower. Like the world is waking up at its own pace, unbothered by alarms or responsibilities.

You’re leaning back on your hands, legs stretched out in front of you, toes digging into the cool, damp sand, while Pablo sits cross-legged beside you, idly tracing patterns in the dirt with a stick.

He’s barefoot, his sneakers tossed somewhere behind you, and his shirt is wrinkled from where he must’ve balled it up to use as a pillow earlier. His hair’s still damp, messy from when he dunked his head in the water on a dare you didn’t even make. You’d rolled your eyes and called him an idiot, but you’d smiled, too. You couldn’t help it. 

“This is weird, right?” he says, breaking the silence. His voice is light, teasing. “I mean, we’ve been coming here forever. But it feels different now.”

You look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Different how?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. It just does. Maybe because you’re not yelling at me for skipping rocks wrong this time.”

“That’s because you’ve finally stopped skipping them like a toddler,” you shoot back, and he laughs, his head tilting back just enough for the sunlight to catch on his cheekbones. It’s unfair, how good he looks when he laughs.

“I wasn’t that bad,” he says, feigning offense.

“You were terrible.”

A bird calls out from somewhere across the water, and the breeze ruffles his hair just enough to make you want to reach out and fix it.

“You remember the first time we came here?” he asks, his voice softer now, nostalgic. “You made me row the canoe the whole way because you were too scared to touch the oars.”

“I wasn’t scared,” you lie, and he chuckles, shaking his head.

“Sure. And I didn’t almost tip us over trying to grab that stupid hat you lost in the water.”

“You’re the one who knocked it off my head,” you remind him, your tone sharp. “And it wasn’t stupid. It was my favorite hat.” You groan, covering your face with your hands.

He laughs again, the sound warm and familiar, and you let yourself smile behind your hands. When you drop them, he’s watching you, his expression is sweet.

“You’re my favorite person,” he says suddenly, “You know that, right?”

You blink, caught off guard. “Don’t say stuff like that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because...” You trail off, looking away. The lake’s surface ripples gently, the reflection of the sky breaking into pieces. “Because it makes it harder to… stay mad at you.”

“Good,” he says, nudging your shoulder with his. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” he says, grinning.

The sun climbs a little higher, the golden light spilling over the trees and turning everything warm. You sneak a glance at him, catching the way the sunlight dances off his skin, how his hair falls messily into his eyes. He notices you looking and raises an eyebrow, a small, teasing smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“What?” he asks, his voice soft.

“Nothing,” you mumble, looking away quickly, but you can feel your cheeks heat up.

He chuckles, low and warm, and it makes your stomach flutter. You hug your knees to your chest, burying your face against them for a moment, but then you feel his hand, warm and steady, brushing against yours.

“I like when you do that,” he says.

“Do what?” you ask, your voice muffled by your knees.

“Stare at me,” he says.

You peek up at him, “I don’t stare,” you say weakly, but even as you say it, you know it’s not true.

He shifts closer, and suddenly his knee is touching yours, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You’re allowed to,” he says quietly.

You don’t move away, and then he leans in, slowly, giving you all the time in the world to pull away. You don’t. His lips meet yours, soft and familiar but still electrifying, like every time before and yet somehow different.

The kiss is gentle only at first, but it deepens, his hand moving to cup your cheek, and you feel yourself melting into him, into the kiss. When you finally pull away, you don’t look at him right away, your face burning. It’s silly, really, considering this isn’t the first time. But something about kissing him here, in the open, with the sky and the lake and the whole world around you, it makes you still –.

“Still shy?” he asks, but there’s no teasing in it, just something soft and fond.

“Shut up,” you mutter, burying your face in his shoulder, and he laughs, wrapping an arm around you to pull you closer.

[yearningandstillnotlearning]

𝚃𝚘 𝚊 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚋𝚎𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚊𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐.

- B.E.

First request!!! Req by: @bilsluckyheart !! Thank you for your faith in me and i hope i didn’t disappoint <3

A/N: used one of my experiences and altered it some more!! Help!!

C/W: m*n mentioned, comphet implied, death mentioned (?), angst, hurt no comfort, no use of y/n, Billie referred to with her name instead of she once, hope i didn’t miss smt

Summary: You finally get a partner and as you said you didn’t care what they were like! You just wanted to not be alone. Is that what fulfils you? Is that what you expected to happen when you were finally “not alone?” Bet you didn’t expect to lose what you realised way too late was what you truly wanted there with you.

❀。 •*₊❀。 • *₊°。 ❀°· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ❀。 • *₊°。 ❀° ❀。 •

A man, a man supposedly being your boyfriend but you can’t seem to help that you see him as a best friend more than anything. Sex feels rather like a playtime-pass time than intimacy - what’s supposed to be dates instead is like going out with your dad’s friend instead of your lover - being with him feels more suffocating than it does to be utterly alone.

Sick worried about your sexuality and cravings, controlling to the core. You needn’t have cut her off, did you? You didn’t like her like that, right?

Or was it just you being in denial? Have you thought how obvious it is when others hear how you talk to her, your tone, your blabbering, clinging onto every little detail ever just for the sake of a never-ending conversation. How your eyes light up the entire milky way the moment she looks your way, gives you attention, answers your texts, you you you in her mind you wanted it to be you.

And he saw that as a threat, his very own misery being contagiously inflicted to you, all in plain sight.

So many excuses for how he is- but you cant deny it. You don’t dare deny it, and you know it too.

The car rides you’d wish would lead to her, the friends you’d go out with you wished would include her, the indirect questions of his old friends in a flick of hope to hear about her.

She was never to be talked of again.

He broke up with you, why are you sad? Body shaking with devastation, tears running like real-life waterfalls, screams of a broken heart hope. You had only hoped you like him, you had only hoped you could convince yourself you like men, the way they like you. The closet shut so quick for the sake of being with someone for once, anyone.

It doesn’t take long until you realise you’re better without him, you aren’t miserable yourself, you were forced to be but yourself. The episodes and constant crying is over, your body has no one to reject anymore, so as the months go by, why do you still feel crashed?

Mind replaying the thoughts you had while dating him, how often you’d think of Billie, wish for her upon every shooting star, hoping your words would reach her under the same night sky.

You weren’t in love with her though? Right?

The times she’d laugh at your stupid jokes and you’d only grow warmer, all from inside out. The way she laughed at your idiotic jokes, eyes shut closed and uncontrollable irregular panting laughs, you felt your heart open up and flutter like a lotus. You weren’t breathing anymore - you were blooming.

Or how she would always react to you with a smile, no she wasn’t always happy, but she felt that way whenever you were in the picture.

You knew she wasn’t always happy, especially when you tried to contact her about a month after your breakup, after the breakup of probably the most pathetic relationship ever.

Her hometown being your own isn’t helping, with a new year of studies crawling in and summer days shortening she’s come to visit family and friends and you cant help but imagine every other girl she interacted with was you.

Stolen glances while passing by the street, yours were full head turns, trying to drink up as much of her as you can in that luck-pathed moment, whereas hers almost looked through you. Short and cold, like broken icicles used as daggers.

The eyes that once bent and twinkled with such a welcoming warmth you now find them leaving you breathless. The hands that once opened up like wings, fingers empty of their shiny rings, -something she always did knowing how the sensation makes you cringe unpleasantly- knowing she’s gonna see you, eager to be held by you contentedly, palms facing you with a silent request to hold them — now you see fallen, the only thing about them looking at you being the big shiny intimidating rings peeking from a fist.

The mud is dirty, the water is not the best. All kinds of things found around the pond taking a sip or a dip. But a lotus flower grows again tomorrow even cleaner than before. Why can’t she see it?

You a year ago today is nothing compared to you right now, you know what you are and what you want. So why is she suddenly scared to get wet? Why is every person attracted to the pond but her?

Everyone but the one you want.

The one person to bloom the lotus within you, the one to plant the lotus seed inside you, to keep it from rotting all along. She gave it life and left it with you to die.

Or at least you tell that yourself to feel better, better about the fact that you left her without a word and hoped for the best.

You hadn’t realised just how much time had passed, or that time had passed at all. Now out of your mind and back to your body, looking right at the entrance of a park, you hadn’t moved an inch since you looked back and was met with a killer gaze. The evening sky turning to yet another dark night. Were the nights always this cold?

You lean against the random buildings fence, state of shock unbothered. Your head tilts up as the breeze kisses past your features, thats when you realise your body has betrayed you yet again, wet cold teary cheeks.

Blink,, blink,,, blink… and you shot your eyes up ahead, the stars in the dark blue of the sky dancing along the hue of the endless horizon above and beyond, and for a moment you saw her eyes again, for a moment you saw her staring at you the way she used to. For a final moment before you felt your heart rip itself apart.

...

..

You had no outlet for your love to her, you didn’t have her. What was there to do with a feeling so tender that sucker punches your stomach the moment it sees the owner of it whole? A feeling that fights against your held back words and actions, trying to get out in any way, ends up finding that the only way out, is through.

There was no room for it. If you clung onto it, it would only destroy you.

[mydarllinglover]

Stars Collided || Seven

Previous

"You would think she was being sentenced to death." Ahsoka sighed.

"Privileged people have a weird way with coping." Anakin shrugged, as they watched Lovisa pour another glass of  wine.

"I can hear you." She sniffled, as she sipped the red drink.

"Why did we need to be here for this?" Ahsoka asked her, directly.

"Because I don't like to be alone, and you're hired to do what I say."

The two shared another look.

"Not because we're great company?" Anakin asked.

"I asked the two of you here, and no one else, didn't I?" She glared at him, as she grabbed two more glasses, filling them.

"Basically, what she is trying to say, is that she loves us, and we're her best friends." Ahsoka smirked.

"You may go now." Lovisa switched her glare to the girl.

"Always in such denial." Anakin grinned widely, as he moved around the counter to stand near her.

"I must love terrible company." She rolled her eyes, sipping her drink, and stepping away from him.

"So, you do love us." Ahsoka cheered.

"Bye." Lovisa walked out from the room, where they stored their wine.

"Where are you going?" The two pains in Lovisa's asses, followed her.

"To drown myself." She answered, walking down the hall, and towards an exit of the large castle.

"But then Anakin's gonna get in trouble for letting you die, and I'll be out of a job." Ahsoka told her.

"That doesn't really seem like my problem." She shrugged. "I won't care, if I'm dead."

"That's what you really want?" Anakin asked.

"No." She groaned. "But it doesn't matter what I want."

"What is that?" He pushed. "What do you want?"

She continued to march through the grass, no destination in mind.

"Everything that I can't have." She refused to give details. "I don't want to be tied to a stupid throne." She tore her tiara off her head, throwing it away from her, but Anakin moved to swipe it up, as he and Ahsoka both followed.

"It won't be terrible, Lovey." Her friend told her.

"Like you could even begin to understand." She snapped.

"Then explain it to us." Anakin urged.

"My life has just been poured down the drain." She was frustrated, and angry. "I have spent my whole life, knowing that I was the spare, whatever I decided to do with my life, never really mattered, as long as it didn't affect the Kingdom or my family, in a bad way, and I would be able to do whatever they needed of me, but now?" She laughed harshly. "Now, my father is going to force me to find a suitable husband, to share the throne with, and it won't be mine, it will be his, and I will have to bare his children, so that he has an heir, they won't be mine, but his, I don't even want children! I won't ever be able to get away, my duties will be doubled, I will never get a say, for my own country, but everyone will be looking at me, when something goes wrong. I wanted to travel, to see great, amazing sights, from all over, and be able to paint, and be happy, and to live, but that's gone, it's all gone! And she got to make that decision, because she gets to be happy, with the one she wants, because she's older, and she gets to step away, because she had a back up, and I don't, so I'm stuck here, and its not fair, it's not fair!" She fell to the ground, to her knees, as she breathed heavy, the weight lifting from her chest, as she continued to stare down, at the skirt of her dress. "I've never been allowed to make a decision in my life, I hate it, I hate them, I hate my title, I hate it all! And I'm going to be miserable and alone, for the rest of my pathetic existence, I hate being alone, my biggest fear is coming true, and no one even cares to ask about what I think, how I feel. They didn’t even bother to tell me, they all knew and kept it from me" She dropped her face into her hands. "Everyone just thinks of me as this wild and selfish, spoiled brat, that always wants her own way, but nothing ever goes my way."

Anakin and Ahsoka looked at each other, they both felt guilty, they felt terrible for teasing and tormenting her, for not bothering to truly see things from her side, yes, she was living lavishly, and was better off than them, she never truly knew what it was like to come from nothing, but unlike her, they had made choices to be where they are now.

"You won't be alone, Lovey." Ahsoka told her, gently, "You will always have me, and I won't let that happen."

Lovisa looked up, her waterline was brimming with tears, "Do you swear?" Her voice cracked, as she asked.

"On my own life." Ahsoka held a hand to her heart, as she also sunk to the ground. "And that does not need to happen, you can rule, make this what you want it to be, you don't need anybody else, and your parents aren't going anywhere, you still have so much time, to do all the things you want to do. You can travel, and fall in love-"

"I can't." She interrupted.

"Yes, you can" Ahsoka smiled encouragingly.

"No, Ahsoka, I can't fall in love." She looked past her friend, at the boy stood behind her, who was already looking at the princess, and he didn't care to look away.

His own chest was beginning to feel heavy, the idea of her moving on, getting married, and starting a family, with anyone but him, it drove him crazy, and since their first kiss, it had been keeping him up, at night, thinking about it, but he could not help himself, the jealousy was too consuming.

But she was a princess, and he was a Jedi.

"Oh..." Ahsoka whispered.

"I wish to go to bed." Lovisa sighed, getting up from the ground, shaking the grass out of her dress.

"I shall accompany you, princess" Anakin told her, nodding to Ahsoka that it was okay for her to go to her own space.

"No need, Jedi." She continued to walk back to the castle.

"Of course there is, I have to make sure that you get to your quarters, safely. That is my job, after all." He replied, walking beside her.

"Very well, then." She wiped her tears, as she kept her focus on where she was going. Her palms were facing down, as she tried to walk properly, like she was taught, and yes, she was made to walk with books on her head, as a child.

But then she was swooped up, in someones arms, Anakin's arms.

She let out a squeal of surprise, as she hooked her arms around his neck, scared that he might drop her, but he carried her through the castle, as though she weighed nothing, even with her poofy skirt, he didn't even seem to care.

"What are you doing, Ani?" She asked him.

"Carrying you to your room, Princess, you seemed to have been struggling." He told her, not bothering to look down at her face, so she was looking up at his. "And I just wanted an excuse to be close to you." He also admitted.

Her cheeks turned rosy, but she didn't say anything else.

When they had reached her bedroom, He only set her down, once he had reached her bed, so he could sit her down on her mattress.

"Do you need anything, before I go?" He asked.

She hesitated, before thinking.

"Yes, I do, actually." She told him.

"And what is that?" He rose a brow in curiosity.

"Well, normally Ahsoka helps me undress, and I can't do it myself." She looked down, bashfully, what if he said no? Then she'd be stuck sleeping in an uncomfortable corset all night.

"O- Of course, M'lady." She didn't miss how he looked taken aback at her request, she had found that it didn't take much to fluster the skilled Jedi.

"Thank you, Skywalker." She called him by his last name, she thought that it would make things less awkward, sound more professional.

She turned around, so that her back was facing him, and she waited for only a few moments, before she could feel his presence behind her, it sent goosebumps all along her skin, and he hadn't even touched her.

Anakin untied the knot at the bottom of her dress, before unravelling the ribbon, finally letting her body relax from the tight prison.

His finger tips danced around her back, she could feel his breath on her ear, and she fought the reaction to shiver.

His hands moved towards her shoulders, then he was gently pulling down the small sleeves.

"Thank you." Lovisa gasped, sharply, breaking herself out of the spell, as she took a step forward, creating distance from him, then she moved towards her divider, so that she could change, picking an blue nightgown, with a matching sheer blue robe, with the fluffy cuffs and hem.

"Would you like me to leave now, princess?" Anakin asked her.

"No, you haven't checked whether my room is secure." She made up an excuse, just to keep him a little longer.

"Of course." He nodded, before walking towards her bathroom, to check it, and then it was her balcony, he even bothered to check under her bed, as she watched. "Well, it looks safe and sound." He told her, as she sat on her bed, he was only a few feet away from her. "I shall leave you to rest."

He only walked a few steps, towards the door, before she stopped him.

"Ani, can you-.... would you wait with me?" She asked. "I don't want to be alone, and I want you- your company, I would like your company." She reiterated.

He was by her side in milliseconds.

"Yes." He said. "I can wait with you."

"Thank you." She said in a hushed breath.

She then got off from the end of the bed, so that she could get underneath the duvet, and lay at her pillows. "Will you lay with me?"

"If that is what you desire." He answered, copying her movements, as he got into the bed, on the other side.

“Are you comfortable like that?” She looked at his clothes.

“I suppose so.” He shrugged. “It’s not what I typically wear to bed, but that’s okay.”

“Well, how do you usually sleep?” She asked him.

“Not a lot.” He bit down a smirk, as he avoided her eyes.

“Oh.” She hated that her cheeks turned red, she focused on her duvet, to avoid the mental images in her head.

The two layed on their side, looking at one another, not sure what to say or do.

Then she took his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles, feeling the scarred tissue, and the roughness, a show of hard work.

"I can't believe I'm laying in bed, with the future queen of Naboo." Anakin joked, breaking the silence, and causing a chuckle from her.

"Shut up." She rolled her eyes, with a small smile.

"You will make an amazing queen." He told her, with seriousness, now. "You don't have to make it the way things are now, you could make a difference, make things the way you want them to be, and fix Naboo, change all the bad that there is, here, there's so much you could do, and I know that it's you, who could and will do it, help the people, be the queen that this country needs."

"I don't think I would be very good." She shook her head. “The kingdom loves my mother and father, I would never reach their expectations.”

Anakin scooted closer towards her in the bed, he used his other hand to lift her chin, so that she would look at him, then moved to hold her cheek, swiping his thumb at the soft skin.

"Yes you will, Vis, you're the best option this place needs, I know you will do great, you're amazing, and I believe in you. You're a good person."

Her eyes softened, as she looked at him.

"But, I don't want to give you up, Ani, I don't think anyone could ever make me feel the way you do, I won't settle down with anyone." She shook her head in protest.

He kissed her, cutting off her next sentence before she could say it.

"Then don't." He said. "Don't end this, with me. We can be together, okay, no one has to find out, you don't need to marry, you don't need to marry anyone else, your sisters getting married, she'll most likely start a family with the senator, so the throne can just go back to them, after your reign, it'll be perfect."

Lovisa had no faith in his plan, she knew that was not realistic, and her father would never have that, it just wasn't the way things were, but to let herself be happy for just one more night, to enjoy his company, she nodded and smiled.

"Okay." She said, causing his own smile to grow wider, and he kissed her, again, with so much passion, that it broke her heart, just a little, she then pulled away. "Stay with me, for the night, please?"

"Of course, M'lady." He kissed her forehead, his hand in her hair.

She looked at his eyes, as they sparkled, as if he held the stars in them.

“You can undress, if you wish to, I promise I won’t look.”

“I don’t mind if you do.” He winked at her, playfully, as he did what she said, sitting up to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor by her bed.

“C’mere.” He laid back down, opening his arms for her.

Lovisa scooted even closer to him, wanting to be wrapped up in his warmth, Anakin hugged her tightly, his face buried in her hair, as they eventually fell asleep.

Next

[mayblossomss]

Whumptober Day 16: Wound Cleaning

Ponyboy was never known for being graceful. Quite the opposite, really. If there was an award for "World's Most Clumsy Person" it would go to Ponyboy.

It wasn't a surprise to see a new bruise or cut on the boy, as it seemed he was constantly running into things, or tripping over his own two feet. It was a common fact amongst the gang to never let him handle valuables.

On one particular day, the only three people inside of the Curtis home were Ponyboy, Dallas, and Two-Bit. Perhaps the most immature group to have left alone unsupervised, but it seemed unlikely that anything bad was going to happen.

Well, until Ponyboy started doing dishes. Two-Bit sat in the living room, chatting loudly with Dallas, who was leaning back against the couch, eyes closed. Pony's hand were wet and slippery as he took the dishes from the sink and dried them off.

Grabbing a knife from the pile of dishes, Ponyboy's grip on the handle slipped, and before he could register what was happening, the knife toppled to the floor and pierced his foot. He screamed, stumbling backward against the counter, eyes wide with horror at the sight of a knife peeking out of his foot.

Two-Bit and Dallas perked up from the other room, briefly sharing a look with one another, before bolting into the kitchen. The first thing they see is a hysteric Ponyboy, but then they spot the knife lodged into his foot. Blood was beginning to pool around it, staining the kitchen floor.

"Oh, holy shit," Dallas breathed, mouth agape as he stared at the bloody sight.

"What the hell did you do?" Two-Bit questioned, growing slightly queasy, even as he turned away.

"Dropped a knife on my foot," Ponyboy snapped, gripping the counter behind him desperately. "Do something!"

Two-Bit didn't need to be told twice, and he hurried off into the bathroom. A few moments of cupboards opening and closing later, he returned with a few items. He had bandages, soap, and rubbing alcohol.

Dallas, who had cleaned himself up numerous times after particularly bad fights up in New York, guided Ponyboy over to the table and sat him down. Taking the supplies, he crouched before him. "This is gonna hurt."

"What's going to--" Ponyboy cuts himself off with a shout of pain as Dallas removes the knife from his foot. "Dal!"

"Sorry, kid," he hummed, pressing a cloth to his foot and holding it there. "Keith, take this, would you?"

Two-Bit looked pale as he stepped forward to take the bloody knife. "What do you want me to do with this?"

"Clean it?" Dallas offered, rolling his eyes.

After a few minutes, Dally took the cloth away and started using a mix of water and soap to rinse the wound out. Ponyboy bit down on his lip, hard, to keep from whining pathetically. Finally, Dallas got to the worst part. "Okay, kid, this is gonna sting."

"Dammit, Dally," Ponyboy grumbled, hands clenching into fists. "Do you have to pour that into it?"

"Yeah," he grunted, opening the rubbing alcohol. "It keeps the wound from getting infected. Would you rather lose your foot and never run track again?"

"Now I know that ain't true," Ponyboy murmured. "I ain't a kid, you can't trick me with tha--" Dallas poured the rubbing alcohol into his wound, causing Ponyboy to break off with a cry.

Two-Bit looked on, completely stunned by the sight. Dallas simply kept tending to his wound before rinsing it off one last time and wrapping it in a bandage. "Should be good."

Ponyboy sat in the chair, miserable, as he stared down at his bandaged foot, sighing. Two-Bit silently inched forward to pick up the bloodied cloths. "Gross."

"It's just some blood," Dallas huffed, shrugging nonchalantly, before turning back to Pony. "You good?"

He nodded, looking from his foot to Dallas. His eyes betrayed the lingering shock and terror of the situation, but all in all, he seemed to be fine. "Thanks. For cleaning me up, I mean."

"Shoot, Dal," Two-Bit said, resting an elbow on the shoulder of the other boy. "When did you get so good at playing nurse?"

"Shut your trap," Dallas scowled, slapping his arm away and putting some distance between the two of them. "Be thankful it was Pony and not you, because I wouldn't have patched you up."

"Hurtful!" Two-Bit exclaimed dramatically, his playful attitude returning now that he'd gotten over the shock.

Dallas grinned a bit, before turning back to Ponyboy. "How about you lay off the dishes for a bit, huh, kid?"

Ponyboy nodded, completely agreeing with Dallas. The next time he held a knife, it would be pointed away from any part of his body.

[turtlecleric]

@oozedninjas hope you feel better soon <3 have some bay!Donnie comforting you

(@yorshie - tag list)

---

When you make it to Donnie's room, you find him hunched over something at his desk and muttering to himself. He perks up immediately at the sight of you, an excited smile pulling at the corners of his mouth, and it's so fucking cute that it sort of makes you want to cry.

Oh, hang on. Fuck. You might actually cry.

As he takes in your pathetic attempts to keep a straight face and the hand resting over your stomach, his pleased expression shifts to worry before settling on a sympathetic, knowing look.

"Shark week?"

You nod miserably. "Shark week."

He's up and heading toward you immediately, the bits of tech on his desk left abandoned. He gets within arms reach and pauses, hands hovering in the air between the two of you.

"Is touch okay right now?"

Instead of responding, you step forward, resting your forehead against his plastron. Donnie's arms gently wrap around you, and you feel him lean forward to press a kiss into your hair. A few moments pass in the safety of his arms, and then he places his hands on your shoulders and gently pushes you back.

"Let's get you set up. Okay?"

You sigh and nod. Words are too... something right now.

"Have you taken medicine yet?

You shake your head.

"Eaten?"

You nod.

He makes an approving noise and leads you to the bed. It reminds you of a nest, to be honest, with the excessive number of pillows and blankets there. As you crawl in, you think back to the circular, wall-mounted bed he used to have before you two got together. Before he traded it out for something bigger and more comfortable. Before he knew what it felt like to even be well rested.

Stop.

The lights dim, and suddenly he's kissing your temple.

"Be right back, Dove."

You hum in response, trying to ignore the sharp pain in your stomach and the tangle of emotions in your chest. You feel like complete and absolute shit in every way possible, and you're so goddamn tired of feeling like you're going to cry that it makes you want to... cry.

Fuck.

Donnie is back in no time at all, handing you two pills and a bottle of water. You down them gratefully, and then he trades you the water bottle for your heating pad. The one he specifically made for you.

No. Not crying. Not. Crying.

You manage to situate the heating pad and press your preferred settings into the remote control. Donnie waits for you to place a pillow between your legs and clutch another to your chest before fussing over the blankets and tucking you in. A hand brushes lightly through your hair.

"Music?"

You manage a nod, and soon one of your playlists is weaving through the air.

"Cuddles or alone time?"

You take a slow, deep breath. "Cuddles."

Another kiss is pressed to your temple before he leaves your view. The bed dips and he starts to settle in behind you, and you can tell that he's trying not to jostle you too much as he moves. His hand finds your hair again, his soothing, light brushes slowly helping you relax.

You still feel terrible, and the medicine hasn't kicked in yet, but. It's already so much better than it was.

You let out a long, contented sigh. "Thank you," you murmur.

Another kiss is pressed onto your temple, and then you feel the vibrations of Donnie's voice against your back.

"Of course, Dove." His face nuzzles softly into your neck, making you smile. "Love you."

You're glad that there's only a slight waver to your voice when you reply.

"Love you too, Donnie."

[luneariaa]

✧ tornare insieme.

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : claudio serafino x fem! reader.

✰ 𝐰. 𝐜. : 2k+ ( i got carried away )

✰ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 : since the breakup, his mind has been so restless. on one night, he unexpectedly bumps into you within the park.

✰ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : not much proofread, claudio seemed a lil miserable here though ( only at the beginning parts ) and might be ooc.

✰ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 : brainrotting over him still ngl like 💙 -- and idk what i wrote for the most part :")

. dividers by @/saradika-graphics !! 🏹

It’s been days since the whole break up thing happened. Have weeks passed, even? He didn’t really give you any proper reasons to do so, and it feels so abrupt. He could see through your reluctant actions– truly a tough decision to do. It’s not like you got any other choices at that moment.

The Italian exorcist remembers that day all too well; your mere expression showing a visible pained look, both physically and mentally. You didn’t even have the time to process everything, simply just doing what you were told.

Are you not good enough for him?

But during all those times when he’s not together with you anymore, he feels restless. He feels lost, he doesn’t know what to do. Claudio knew he had to do that eventually. The immense feeling of regret begins to resurface within him, now wishing he could take those words back as he was trying to take a break in his private study room. 

It’s been a tiring day as per usual for him today, and he wishes for nothing more than your sole comfort alone– even when it’s not possible after what happened. His duties may be done for the day, but his heart feels as if something is still lacking. He misses you. 

You were the light of his life, and he just messes those up further. Claudio even wondered if you still thought of him, as he did with you.

With a frustrated sounding sigh, he brings one of his hands up to rub his forehead to at least alleviate some of his current stress pain. He misses you dearly– plain and simple. He knew he fucked up, and it’s not really by his own favor. 

Claudio genuinely thought that his line of work is quite dangerous for someone like you, especially since you were too involved with him. He has forgotten on how you actually accepted his whole job and lifestyle as the exorcist leader for the Archers of Sirius– highly aware of the tasks that he has to do often, having no complaints. You accepted him for how he truly is.

It’s reassuring, to say the least. But also concerning, since he doesn’t want any potential danger to harm you while you’re not in his sight. Which as a result, he had to push you away, to prevent any of those from happening.

But now, the pain he feels is too much to bear. He needs you back. He wanted to make things right again; he doesn’t care at this point. You mean so much to him, and forever it will stay that way.

It’s quite late at night, as most people by that hour can be assumed to be already asleep, or merely just resting within their own private sanctuary. Claudio left the building not too long ago, wanting to clear his mind before making any proper decisions. No feeling of anxiousness, or even fear creeping up within him, as he had faced even scarier things during his time as an exorcist. But God, he feels pathetic and miserable for wandering around almost aimlessly in the middle of the night.

The lone moon shines overhead; simply looking beautiful as ever, and filled the atmosphere with such serenity, yet it’s just not enough for his preoccupied mind, filled with the mere thoughts of you.

Instead of letting his negative thoughts completely take over, his slate blue eyes wandered over the view of some parts of the city that’s being displayed. The sight alone never fails to amaze him.

But as he still tries to get a grasp of his surroundings, a familiar figure came into his line of vision; noticing how the said person even halted on their tracks so quickly. The expression of disbelief is present, but he wouldn’t even want to blame it on them for that matter.

Has fate decided to play around with them?

Of course, you’ve recognized that familiar tall, dark blue-haired male from somewhere as well– somewhere, which perhaps, better left forgotten. But you couldn’t, since your feelings for him are still one of those that you hold so dearly to yourself.

It looks like the both of you coincidentally had the same idea of going out on this seemingly fine night– you really can’t tell it anymore as much. Claudio was contemplating for a good minute there, thinking if he should openly acknowledge your sole presence, or simply walked toward another direction, but in the end– 

– “(Y/N)?” He begins to call out to your name; his voice sounding soft, yet lowered than usual, as if he was actually hesitant to break the lingering silence that was built between the two of you.

Your mind went blank for a moment there, unsure on what or how to answer him to that. Without thinking much, you tried to walk back towards the direction as to where you previously were from. 

“Wait!” The Italian male instantly cries out to you once more, catching up to your retreating form with ease. To be fair, he doesn’t really know how to deal with the whole situation either, since he never really experiences things like this with anyone else, but you. Only you.

“Can we talk, please..?” So you stopped in your tracks, turning your head to finally face him again, but this time, properly. You couldn’t find it in yourself to ignore him completely when his voice sounded so sincere, just like how he always did when you both are still in a relationship. Never once has he mistreated you, there’s that.

“About what, exactly?”

“Can we find anywhere more private, at least? Just this once– I want you to hear me out.” It’s been a while since you two talked like this, so it feels a little.. Odd. Yet, it gives you a lot of mixed feelings; you couldn’t even tell.

“It’s important.”

You gave it some thought, before eventually sighing with a defeated look. His expression alone makes you feel something, which stirs within you so much. Like, you genuinely feel bad if you chose to ignore or reject his simple request. What if he means it this time? The least you could do is to hear him out, even for this once.

“Fine. Just this once."

"You got any places in mind, or my place instead? Since it’s already quite late.” And why would you even offer your place to begin with? You wouldn't even know.

“Your place,” he replied almost instantly, very well aware of how late it already has been. Claudio wanted to settle everything properly for once, given the current opportunity– or even if it meant that this would be the last time he would be able to see you.

“Lead the way.”

“I’ll follow and watch from behind.”

The dark blue haired male didn’t mean to sound creepy in any way, but rather, his tone has shown the hint of protectiveness underlying within it, even though you both aren’t exactly together anymore. Still one of his admirable traits, but you wouldn’t say it out loud. Even when the two of you started heading towards the said destination, he remains behind with a quite respectable distance, silently feeling as if he has a sense of purpose for the night.

“This better be good.”

“I promise, I’ll make it worth your time.” Claudio reassures to your utterances; his eyes taking in his changing surroundings that begin to fill his senses like no other. But deep down, it’s like a mask he’s trying to put up, feeling the nervousness gradually eating him up internally. The last thing he wanted to do is to mess things up further and you being disappointed by him in a lot of ways.

Once the two of you arrived at where you’re currently residing, you told him to wait for you in the living room as you went to prepare some drinks for the both of you. You don’t even understand how you can be so casual right now– especially when your literal ex was inside your home around this specific hour, but you couldn’t care less. If his intentions were true, that’s the least you could do. You can fight if anything.

His eyes silently followed over your movements from afar, not making any attempts to approach you there or anything akin to it. The momentary stillness within the air definitely helps a bit; trying to remain calm himself.

Not much has changed inside your house either. The photo frames are still in place, and even the small vase with flowers in it looked so fresh; placed just on top of the table nicely. But what caught his attention is the pendant he used to give you in the past– hanging someplace safe, yet visible to those who are observant enough.

The exorcist was surprised that you would even keep that, clearly thought you got rid of it sometime during the breakup.

A nostalgic look flashes over his features, seeing as the remains of his magic somehow works perfectly still within the pendant, yet faint– as if to symbolize loneliness, even somber. It means a lot to him that you didn’t choose to throw it away.

Not too long after, his gaze shifted once again when you returned from the kitchen with the cups in your hands, settling yourself down across from him once you’ve given the cup to him. 

“Alright, speak.”

You didn’t intend to sound so harsh, as it’s the first thought that you literally had at the moment. He didn’t seem to mind as much, clearly understanding as he nodded slightly. “Right.”

“I just– I just wanted to apologize for how I broke up with you so suddenly back then.. And I realized that I never really gave you a clear explanation either.”

Straight to the point, he refuses to waste time any longer, choosing his next words carefully before adding to his previous statement. “You’re always so good to me, and you deserved better. I should’ve respected you more.”

The tension in the air is palpable, yet he tries his best to not let it get through him while letting his words flow out— the words he wanted to speak for so long. 

“But it's something had to do with my job before. I’m sure you’re aware of it already, of how dangerous it truly is.”

You remained quiet during the time he spoke, giving him all the time he needed after he took a sip of the drink you had made earlier. No anger is present, but rather, you let his words sink in.

His slate blue eyes would find your own, letting it stay there as you returned his gaze. Claudio wanted you to understand each of what he has said, of how he meant every word.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me in any way, but for the real reason– to keep it simple, I don’t want to potentially put you into danger; the risk from the last one is quite unpredictable.”

You had this one almost unreadable expression plastered across your face; silently contemplating over his words, while your eyes are skeptically glancing at him. Claudio noticed the look you currently gave him, which leads to him eliciting a quiet sigh.

“I mean it; honest.” He sounded way more genuine and truthful at this point; finding no reason to lie to you after what happened between the both of you. “You know how much I cared about your safety, cara.”

The rather endearing nickname slips past his lips without any second thoughts, yet he makes no attempt to take it back. Just one of his old habits; one that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. His words did reach your ears, but somehow, you got distracted by something else almost entirely.

“.. Have you eaten properly lately?” 

The Italian exorcist was caught off guard by your simple statement, remaining silent for a bit as he feels called out. You noticed, after all. Was it that obvious?

“I don’t know– it’s just been rough for me since, well, that day.” He looks almost too ashamed to admit it outright at this moment, but he knew he had no other choice. “I think I haven’t been able to eat properly as of late..”

Claudio suddenly had the sudden urge to tell you everything right from his mind. About how he always tries to keep himself as busy as he could– up to the point of forgetting his daily meals intake, whether it’s unintentional or not. Yet, he refrained from doing so, keeping it all to himself instead.

The guilt you felt at this moment is becoming too real; your eyes appearing to be filled with certain heaviness, though you managed to gather up your next words without any hints of hesitation whatsoever.

“Wait here, I’m gonna prepare something for you.” Before he could even protest, you've already gone to the kitchen. You wouldn’t dare to say that you’re a good cook much, but you’re willing to regardless. It’s like, the least of your worries at this point.

Claudio was taken aback by your actions, to say the least, but some other part of him feels somehow.. Relieved, in a way. He couldn’t help but to wonder; what’s running through your mind right now, and what made you act that way. Nonetheless, it’s somehow leading for a better progress, by the looks of it. 

It feels good to be able to let everything out from his chest– feeling more better than how he truly feels during the past few weeks.

However, his attention was shifted back to you once he heard a wince-- accompanied by strings of cusses under your breath. You've accidentally cut some tiny part of your finger with a knife while you're just trying to slice something.

The male immediately rushes to your side, feeling worried as ever if anything had gone wrong. His gaze instantly landed on your bloodied finger, letting out a faint sigh of concern. "You alright?"

You get startled by his sudden presence being way too close to you, but you simply brush it off.

"It's just a minor cut; a small mistake. I shouldn't be so careless.." Your voice trailed off near the end of your sentence, looking downwards with a somewhat disappointed expression.

"Let me see it." Claudio held his palm open, motioning for you to give out your hand to him. You didn't have any much choice, so you obliged. He began to take a closer look at one of your injured fingers, helping you clean it a bit, before wrapping the small bandage around it carefully. It looked nothing too serious, much to his relief.

"There, all done. Take it easy, okay? Please be careful, next time."

By the time he finished speaking out those words, he realized that you were no longer staring at your now bandaged finger, but rather, at him. So, he returned the silent gaze, not knowing what to do or say next--

-- that is, until he noticed that your eyes are getting teary this time, averting your gaze away quickly from him in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that." But what is there to apologize for? He already caught sight of it, now feeling a little more saddened by it himself.

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry for." He replies in a soft tone, retaining his gentle demeanor as he silently urges you into an embrace. "Mistakes happen, after all."

One of his hands begins to rub your back, in hopes of providing you some sort of comfort. Perhaps, you're still having trouble processing the whole events from the night, and it's starting to gradually overwhelm you.

"I'm sorry, I just.." You missed him. By the time you fall into his embrace, he could tell it so well-- especially when you begin to cling onto him ever so slightly, trying to keep yourself steady.

Claudio tightens his hold around you just a little, silently savoring the moment while still rubbing your back in a comforting manner. You did miss him, after all; just like how he did with you.

He wanted to tell you that he still, very much cares and loves you, but the timing doesn't feel right to him. Maybe sometime, when everything is back to normal and alright between you two once more, he'll finally have the courage to say it.

Just for now, he wanted to relish in your presence-- feeling your warmth alone, and even the scent that you possessed to fill his senses so nicely. God, he misses this; he misses you so dearly.

"I'll help with the cooking, okay?" He spoke in an almost hushed tone, brushing some of your strands of hair behind. Claudio is always the better cook between the two of you-- able to whip something up even with limited time. "I'll do the chopping and all of it, you'll just help me around a bit. Don't want to risk any more injuries on your hand."

You nodded slowly while your head is still buried on his chest, smiling ever so slightly when he finally pressed his lips on your forehead.

hope the ending part isn't too rushed bc i think my brain got fried atp /hj

@luneariaa do not repost; reblogs are alright. all rights reserved.

[fallingdownhell]

Hello! Nice to meet you!

May I request a quiet and sweet reader getting furious at and punching someone for dissing Noe and Vanitas?

Nice to meet you too, kind anon <3

Thank you so much for requesting something for Vanitas no carte. I never really got around to write for it until now, even though the anime became so much of a comfort show for me. So thank you for finally giving me the opportunity! I really appreciate it!

Word count: 1,6k

Content ahead: I tried making it with a gender neutral reader in mind; little bit of cursing; a bit of physical violence but nothing too excessive; can be read as either platonic or romantic

As always, hope you have fun reading!

Vanitas

I like to imagine that Vanitas thrives with someone who is more reserved and quiet than him

He talks a lot and he likes to hear himself talk, but more than anything, he enjoys the way your eyes sparkle whenever he tells a story or how you intently listen to anything he says

his heart warms up at the sight and he tries to think of even more storys and tales to tell you, just so you would look at him like that again

your quiet and shy nature aside, he also adores the way you care about others

Vanitas is a man that always portrais himself as independent, someone who does not care for others. Yet he deeply appreciates the way that you are the exact opposite, always looking out for others

sometimes though it's a bit unbareable for him when you start to neglect your own needs or your own comfort. Then, he just has to remind you again that you matter as well and that you are allowed to prioritize yourself from time to time

he really thought that he knew everything about you. A sweet little human that could not even hurt a fly.

Well, but as they always say... you can always learn something new every single day..

Since Vanitas has returned from a rather long and taxing mission, he decided to take things a little bit slower. After not seeing you for a while, he thought it would be refreshing to seek you out and spend some time with you again.

So he did just that, finding you in the comfort of your own home, disturbing your peace and quite to invite you out. He took you to a small café he saw on his way here.

On your way there and while you were sitting at one of the many tables he told you all about the stuff that happened on this little journey of his. Your eyes were fixed on his lips and you soak up every word that leaves his mouth.

"That sounds so amazing!", you sigh once he was finished with his tale. "I wish you would take me with you the next time. I really want to accompany you and see all this stuff for myself."

Before the black haired man beside you could respond, a man that was sitting at the table next to yours started laughing.

"Excuse you? Do you have something to say?" Upon hearing your tone of voice, Vanitas froze up next to you. He had never heard you speak in such a cold and dangerous tone until now. His entire being told him to be careful and if necessary, run away from this situation. All that and it wasn't even directed at him.

Yet that man didn't seem to care for it or he just flat out ignored it, because he just kept going. "Oh come on, you can't seriously fall for all that. Everything that boy said is obviously a farce. A scam! And you are falling for every little bit of it."

He started laughing again, not noticing how you got up from your table and positioned yourself right next to him. Vanitas was about to speak up, but you beat him to it.

Faster than he thought you capable of, you leaned down and grabbed that man by the collar, effectivly shutting him up and making him look at you. As he saw the ice cold expression on your face, fear started to slowly creep up inside him.

"The only farce I see around here, is you, you pathetic old scum. Sitting here alone, laughing about other people because your own life is just too miserable for you to bear. I bet you have no one to come home to because no one can stand that condesending tone and personality of yours.

You better shut up about other people and how they choose to spend their lives when your own is nothing special to begin with either.

Now, I suggest you get out of my sight before I completely loose my temper with you and trust me, you do not want to see me any more angry than I already am."

Once you let go of his collar, the man quickly stood up from his table, stumbling a few times on his way out, while you slid back into your seat like nothing had happened.

All the while, your companion watched the spectacle go down and he was surprised, to say the least. He would have never expected an outburst like this from your ususal sweet and caring person. But that just made it all the more better.

"Wow.. I have to admit, I was not expecting something like that from you. But it was definitely entertaining.", he laughed.

"Ugh, please shut up. That was so embarassing."

"Embarassing?", Vanitas laughed as he saw your pained expression. "You just verbally berated that man like you do this for a living and now, after you're done with him, you feel embarassed? Oh, this is gold!" He laughed even more as your expression turned even more.

"Can we please change the subject now? You had your fun, let me off the hook already!", you whined, not wanting to be the centre of attention anymore.

"Okay, okay, fine. So, have I told you about..."

And so, you continued your afternoon like nothing had happened. But Vanitas for sure was never letting you live this down, ever.

Noé

One sweet person combined with another one? Get ready for cuteness overload!

Literally, both you and Noé are so considerate people, always thinking about the well being and the comfort of the other person first before thinking about themselves

it became sort of a habit that you two took care of each other more than you would for yourselves

Noé always asking you if you drank any water today and reminding you to do so, while you ask him how much he has slept and scolding him for messing up his sleep cycle yet again

outside people who don't know either of you would think that you two are brother and sister with the way you were behaving around the other

it didn't bother either of you though. you didn't need an exact label on your relationship as long as you were both happy and comfortable, that's all that counts

although you have seen how Noé behaves when his more... animalistic side comes out, you don't think any less of him for that. He can't really control it all the time and he already tries his best, that's all you can ask of him

he however, has never seen you act out or anything of the sort. And quite frankly, he didn't believe that you had it in you to do so, either

You were enjoying a late night walk with Noé by your side, as you two so often did. The atmosphere was quite different at night and you got to enjoy much more of the city's charme with less people around, so it became a somewhat regular occurence for the two of you.

Often times Noé just showed up unannounced on your doorstep, asking you if you would care to join him for a walk. You had yet to ever turn him down on that offer.

You weren't exactly scared for your safetly either, knowing that the man you were with was more than capable of protecting both you and himself.

Enjoying the cool nightly breeze, you leisurely walked down the path togheter, talking about nothing specific, yet the conversation never died down. It was just so easy to talk to him, like you had known him your entire life.

It was such a calm and relaxing atmosphere, you knew that it sadly could not last forever. And the peace was indeed disturbed as a obviously drunk man came stumbling out of one of the many alleyways onto the main road.

"Be careful, (name).", Noé said in a hushed manner. And although you both made some space for the man so you could walk past him undisturbed, he stumbled so much that he still somehow managed to bump into the white haired man beside you.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!", he slurred, yelling at Noé who kept his composure.

"I apologize", he responded, trying to keep the situation under controll and getting out of it as soon as possible. Yet that man seemed to have different plans.

"I don't care for your apology. You ran into me! How dare you do that!" The man got even louder than before, now starting to shove Noé away from him.

Before any of the two could do anything farther than that, your fist swiftly landed in the mans face, effectively knocking him out on the side of the walkway.

"Don't you dare touch Noé like that!", you said, but the man was already passed out and probably didn't hear you anymore.

Pleased with your action, you turned around to see Noé looking at you like he has just seen a ghost.

"What?", you looked at him, not getting what got him so spooked all of a sudden.

"You.. just... what?"

"I didn't like the way he was treating you. Besides, he is so drunk anyway. He probably won't remember a thing tomorrow."

With that, you just continued walking like you didn't just knock a man out just like that. Noé didn't say anything about that incident, but he now always made sure to never get on your bad side.

[whinlatter]

think (harry/ginny) | a microfic

day 13 of @hinnymicrofic | prompt: think

He showers quick, tries to scrub the train off him. Snorts at the sight of Vernon’s large bottle of hair-thickening shampoo. Having stared at his uncle’s head all the way back from London, he reckons Vernon’s due a refund.

There's some lurid deodorant of Dudley's - hair gel, too, looks cheap and shit. He feels a stab of pity for whichever poor girl his cousin’s trying to scrub up for these days. Dudley trying to pull, he thinks with a laugh, Christ. But thoughts of pulling lead to thoughts of girls, which lead, inevitably, to thoughts of Ginny.

He shoves the hair gel back on the shelf. Adds Dudley pulling to the don’t think about it list he’d started making on the train, somewhere around the Cumbrian border, when Ron had offered him a Caramel Kappa, Ginny’s favourite, and he’d wanted to throw up all over the chess board.

The Dursleys had waited all of two seconds after he’d slammed the car boot shut before speeding off to dinner at some miserable gastropub off the M3. Suits him fine, wants to be alone. He stabs a fork through the plastic film of his ready-meal, makes sure to puncture the yellow reduced sticker Petunia's left on for his benefit, and watches the bright white of the mashed potato atop the shepherd’s pie whirling around in the microwave. 

You know, it’s made from real shepherd, he’d said to Ginny once. That’s such a dad joke, she’d said, and he’d said I wouldn’t know and she’d said Potter you get one dead dad joke a day and you already used today’s up at breakfast. Shepherd’s pie is on the don’t think about it list, then, he thinks, just before he burns his fingers sliding the ready meal onto a tray. Probably best add cottage pie, too, same idea. Maybe all savoury pies, play it safe.

He flops down on the sofa, feet up on the coffee table, eats straight from the hot plastic as he flicks through channels. The nine o'clock news is all budget this, Hong Kong that, Tim Henman out at Wimbledon. The nine o’clock news is not Dumbledore's dead, Snape murdered him, there’s a war on, Harry Potter's dropped out of school to go hunt bits of Voldemort's dismembered soul. 

Dropped out of school, he thinks. Scandalous, delinquent. What d'you reckon? he asks the Ginny in his head. Harry Potter, troubled dropout? Do anything for you? The Ginny in his head laughs. It’d be fun if she were here, he thinks, curled up next to him on this ugly sofa, taking the piss out of Petunia’s cushion covers and Dudley’s wrestling trophies. Imagines taking her up to his bedroom, pointing out the lamp Dobby whacked himself around the head with. But then the Ginny in his head looks at him and says I never really gave up on you and I knew this would happen in the end, and it all bursts, shatters into a hundred dusty pieces.

He chucks the rest of the meal in the bin, adds dropping out of school to the stupid list. Might as well add the budget, Hong Kong and Tim Henman, why not.

Turns off the telly, goes upstairs and lies on his bed, fully-clothed, staring up at the ceiling, because on the walk from the living room to his bedroom the list has expanded to include his trunk (train, Hogwarts, Ginny), his jumper (still smells a bit like her on the left arm, pathetic), and Hedwig (how does it feel knowing your owl prefers me, Potter?).

He stares out of the window for a while, eyes next door's new extension, which sort of works - ugly nothing suburbia - until he remembers the twins and Ron at the window in a flying Ford Anglia, zooming him off to the Burrow where a little red headed girl is blushing and sticking her elbow in the butter dish and god, this really is shit, isn't it, they weren't lying. She knew then, of course she did. He's never been good at thinking of nothing, has he, and he's thought about her as he falls asleep every day since about October, so what chance does he have now?

He's dreading the dreams the most, knows they'll be unbearable. Almost hopes he dreams of lockets and green light and dead headmasters. Can't be worse than bright brown eyes, freckles on a bottom lip (how do you even get freckles on your bottom lip, Gin? Don't be jealous of my freckles, Potter, just because your skin's so boring), the smell of her hair (what do you mean my hair smells? What is that supposed to mean? Why are you laughing?) and the sound of her laugh and her gasps and the sound of her breathing, soft, lying beside him under the cloak on the lakeshore. Looking down under the table at dinner, seeing her thigh next to his on the bench, hand on his knee, body drawn to his, magnets, magic.

When he wakes groggily the next day - crick in his neck, still in his jeans - his first thought is: he's overslept. He’s missed Ginny on her way down to breakfast, going to be late for Potions, fucked it.

But no, of course not. There’s no Ginny, no breakfast, no Potions. Might still have fucked it, though, who's to say. Don't, he tells himself, as he heads for the bathroom to scrub the night off him, just don't think about it.

now up on AO3 here | ask me anything

[ohyoru]

what you deserve _INUI SEISHU

seishu doesn't necessarily hate his work as toman's top executive, nor does he love it. it's just something he does without really thinking too deeply into. he only knew that he needs to stay close to koko, for both their sake in that corrupted organisation. he does as he's told, questions nothing and keeps nothing lingering or attached. day by day, the light in his life fades, and there's nothing he intends to do to change it. but if he has any regret at all, it would be you.

he acknowledged that job is risky and decided that it would be best to break up with you from the beginning. he didn't see much worth in his graceless self anyway, so surely you wouldn't mind breaking up with him and hopefully find someone that could be a much worthier partner for yourself. except that you didn't think in such way at all. when you cried as you begged him to not leave you, he just didn't have the heart to deny you despite knowing full well of the hell that awaits you for staying with him.

you're experiencing that hell now, every night, the same cycle again and again until who knows when you'll finally realise that you deserve better. just like tonight, seishu arrived home way past 12. the living space was ridiculously way too empty and lonely for anyone to live there on their own, and by this, he meant you, because he's rarely around. at one corner of the room, dim lighting made you glow, despite how miserable you look with tear stain on your cheeks. your palm rested on your swollen belly, your ring finger barren from any sight of ring that's long overdue.

seishu knelt in front of you, his callous fingers caressed your cheek softly enough to not wake you up. in his heart, the feeling of regret intensified. "how much longer?", he asked himself quietly. "how much longer until you realise that you deserve way better than this? how much longer until he's finalise ready to let you go?". that question made him realised the dirty truth — it's one thing that you didn't want to break up with him, but it's completely another thing that he yearns for you to stay just the same, that he loves you too much to see you walk away.

closing his eyes, he sighed silently. "don't linger around", he reminded himself, "not even for memories or feelings". gently, he cupped your cheek and kissed your forehead, but left your belly alone. he didn't want to be tied to any other, for your own sake. "what a pathetic guy i am", the self-loathe filled his heart, but he learned to numb it out after years of being in his career. carefully, he slipped his arms under you and lifted you up, secretly savouring the feel of your increasing weight and warmth against his body. it's the least he'd allow himself to have, because tomorrow, he'll leave and break your heart again. "soon, you'll realise that you deserve better than this".

[sylus-qin]

As Sylus sat in his big crimson chair in his parlor, waiting patiently and seemingly puzzled, she walked in wearing a bright red Christmas dress, looking completely miserable.

"Jinglegram..." she greeted Sylus sullenly with the biggest and most pathetic-looking pout on her face, not even making eye contact with him.

As if on cue, Luke snickered and turned on some upbeat pop music.

"Santa, can you hear me?" she sang as cheerfully as she could in spite of the fact that she would rather hurl herself into an active volcano instead. She smiled stiffly at the Onychinus leader as she continued singing, "I want my baby, baby / I want someone to love me, someone to hold / Maybe, maybe / He'll be all my own in a big red bow."

She continued to perform this private show for Sylus, her cheeks practically turning the same shade as her dress. In a far corner, she could make out those two bastard twins laughing their heads off at her misery. She mentally made note to beat them with a dense fruitcake and shank them with a broken candy cane at a later time.

Too humiliated, she wasn't even aware of Mephisto flying past above her head with a mistletoe branch in his mouth.

"Can't be alone under the mistletoe / He's all I want in a big red bow~" she sang, her heart practically leaping out of her chest. By this point, she felt like she was having an out-of-body experience, no longer aware of anything other than rushing through the song so she could go and do her one good deed for the world and dispose of two troublesome twins from this mortal plane.

She grimaced when she caught sight of Kieran silently motioning for her to wink. Reluctantly, she awkwardly winked at Sylus, her voice a pitch higher than intended, "Tell me my true love is near / He's all I want, just for me."

Miraculously, she was nearing the end, and by the grace of God, she had not dropped dead out of sheer mortification. As the song slowed down, she finished softly, "Santa, that's my only wish this year..."

She was practically a whimpering mess now (and not even in the fun way). Hesitantly, she looked up and managed to squeak out, "Merry Christmas, Sylus..."

(OOC: Brownie points if anyone knows what song this referenced 💀👍)

His eyes lit up as soon as she walked in in that outfit, an amused smile creeping up his face. The fact that she didn't look thrilled almost made him laugh, but he held himself back, crossing an ankle over the knee and sitting back, thinking 'oh, this is going to be good'.

The performance began and he started nodding along to the music, tapping his foot to the rhythm. He knew Luke and Kieran must have been behind this, but for all the trouble they caused, he didn't mind this one bit.

He had to put his hand over his mouth by the time she winked at him. Even if he was enjoying this immensely, he didn't want to offend her by laughing when she was already clearly struggling.

When it ended, he stood up and clapped, approaching her.

"All of this for me? You flatter me, kitten. Should I take the lyrics at face value?" With a gesture of his finger, he commanded Mephisto to land on his head and lean forward, the mistletoe dangling between them. "Now all I need is a red bow, right?"

[sugarcloudsky]

Hi! Welcome to the cookie run x reader community! Here you'll find so many amazing fics, writers, and anons like myself! I am personally a big fan of cookie run x reader stuff and I saw you and thought I'd give you a request and see what your writing is like!

I noticed how you prefer writing for male characters and lucky for you...my top two favs are males lol! (Clotted cream and affogato!)

So I was thinking....may I request am affogato x a shy, sweet reader? Like the reader is an absolute bean?

Again, welcome and I hope you like the people and anon and other writers here!

「The Sweetest Medicine」

character: affogato cookie

wc: 1.1k

cws: none

first request done, i really hope you like it!! thank you for the kind welcome, i appreciate it >_< this rlly came out longer than i expected,,

Early morning hours were always a thing Affogato Cookie quite disliked. The bleary gray sky served to always dampen his mood, and he sometimes found himself longing for the day the Dark Cacao kingdom may just one day see a sunny morning. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He was too tired to deal with that miserable excuse of a king today. For once, he just wanted to lay in bed all day. Oh, to be able to have an entire day to himself, being able to sit alone and eat all the sweet confectioneries he could ever want—

A knock at his door interrupted his fantasies.

“…Sir Affogato Cookie? Are you awake?”

Normally, he wouldn’t have sprung up from his soft mattress so quickly, but perhaps this case was a bit special. He quickly straightened his hair before replying in the same sugary voice the cookies of the kingdom was so used to hearing, “I’ll be right out.”

After a few moments of changing out of his sleep attire and fixing himself up, he slides open the door to his chambers. There, he meets you waiting for him. He carefully scans your figure, taking in your nervous body language. He watches as you entirely avoid eye contact with him, as well as noting that you are obviously hiding something behind your back with your two hands.

“My, my, quite the lovely sight, even in these early morning hours. What brings you to my chambers so early, hm?”

His compliment caught you entirely off guard, causing your face to burn and the speech you had planned in your head to completely dissipate. You try to speak, but the words are caught in your throat. The only thing that comes out is a quite frankly pathetic mess of words.

“I— You— F— Ah,” You stumble over your words, and your face burns even brighter when you hear him chuckle. Panic quickly enters you, is he already laughing at you?! Oh crumbs, this really was a bad idea. You pull one of your arms out from behind you, subconsciously try to hide your face in your hand in an attempt to calm yourself.

“Sorry, I—”

“Why don’t you come in, hm?”

“Huh?!”

You bite your lip in embarrassment at your loud exclamation. Other cookies who were roaming the halls of the citadel all turned to you, and at that moment you might as well have just melted into a puddle. Affogato chuckled again as he gently peels your hand away from your face. His hands cup your own as he softly pulls you into his bedchamber. You aren’t able to get a word in before you're standing in the middle of his room.

“What is it you wanted to tell me? You don’t have to worry about anyone else being around.”

You do not reply. You are frozen in place, unmoving. This isn't how you planned for this to go. All you wanted to do was give him what you made for him, and leave. That’s it. You didn’t expect to be standing in the middle of his bedroom alone with him. This is the worst possible outcome, you thought. How did it turn out this way?

He observes you closely, almost being able to hear the gears turning inside your head. He quietly sits on the edge of his bed, his eyes not leaving your stiff form. He clears his throat as a means to get your attention, and you jolt. Affogato pats the space on his bed beside him, beckoning you to sit next to him, and you hesitate.

“S—Sir, I really don’t think this is appropriate. I shouldn’t be in here so casually with you…” you fluster.

“Why so worried, hm? It’s just us in here. You can sit next to me as much as you like.” He deflects, still patting the space next to him.

Attempting to swallow your nervousness, you sit. Immediately, you’re hit with the mixed scent of coffee and ice cream. The bitterness of the coffee with the sweetness of the ice cream left your head spinning and cheeks burning once again. Oh crumbs, he smells really nice— no! That’s creepy! Just give him what you wanted to give him and go!

After what felt like forever, you pulled out what you had hiding behind your back onto your lap. It was a neatly wrapped box with a cute little ribbon on top. Affogato’s curiosity peaks as he asks you what’s in the box.

“It’s— um, I made you.. I made you a cake… because I heard you talking about how you… you liked sweets…” Your voice grew softer as your sentence continued, your figure shrinking on the spot.

For a moment, there’s only silence.

Then, he laughs.

“My, my,” he says, attempting to suppress his giddiness, “For me? How charming. You’ve come to me this early in the morning just to give me this?”

You nod. You’re so flustered and embarrassed at this point, you thought you were going to explode at any moment now. He gingerly takes the box from your grasp, untying the ribbon and opening the lid. Inside was a small chocolate colored cake with light fluffy icing, along with a cute little spoon. His eyes widened at the sight. The aroma was divine and the cake looked delicious.

He smiles as he turns to gaze at you, eyes holding pure adoration for you. He watches as you fiddle with your fingers nervously, your eyes glued to the floor in front of you.

“Thank you.” he sighs. His tone is so different from what you’re used to hearing. It was so genuine and kind in comparison to the faux sweetness he held with any other cookie in the kingdom. “I appreciate it, truly.”

“It’s— It’s nothing!” you nervously laugh, still refusing to face him. Despite your embarrassment, you’re glad he likes your gift. Sure, a cake so early in the morning might be a bit odd to some, but he likes it, so that’s all you really care about. You spent almost the entire night in the kitchens of the citadel, perfecting your recipe to make sure it was well suited for Affogato Cookie, Dark Cacao Cookie’s right hand.

“Such a thoughtful gift from a lovely cookie deserves a reward, does it not?” he hums in an unrecognizable tone, causing you to look up at him quizzically.

Your sputter, eyes widening.

He smiles angelically, motioning a spoonful of the cake towards you. If it was even possible, your face darkened even more. But you could’ve sworn his own cheeks held a light red tint as well.

“Say ‘ah’.”