#nothing in this life will make me cry harder than the 'i could have saved one more but i didnt' scene

[gutsby]

Make It Stick

Pairing: Old!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel never thought he’d need a vasectomy. Then, one night, he accidentally finishes inside you.

Warnings: 18+. Unprotected-peepaw-p-in-v (I’m sorry). Accidental creampie. Age gap. Cumplay. Breeding kink. Ovulation has led me places I wouldn’t go with a gun.

Note: Convergence is a painting by Jackson Pollock. We studied it in high school and I thought it looked like jizz idk

Word count: 4.7k

Prequel | Part 1 | Part 2

He should’ve gotten snipped when he had the chance.

Should’ve taken the plunge, faced his fears of needles and fluorescent-washed doctor’s offices like any man his age could have done and gotten the damn vasectomy. Now he was here, nearly two decades older and still none the wiser in this cold, dead world with a pretty young thing like you between his sheets. In lieu of elective surgery, Joel Miller had only to grit his teeth, bite hard, and repeat over and over again in his head, desperate:

‘Don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum, DON’T—’

Words like those normally worked. With women that weren’t you, they tended to serve him exceedingly well.

But you were just so tight. And wet. And welcoming. And try as Joel might to pretend like he got laid on a regular basis, the truth was that he didn’t. Wouldn’t. Couldn’t seem to think straight when it came to this fixation he’d developed for you, so, instead, he let his dick do all the decision-making whenever he found himself around you. Ten times out of ten that ended in:

“J-J-Joel—oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—I’m gonna CUM.”

And that made it worth every last life-endangering drop.

Feeling how your flushed, lithe body came apart beneath his touch. How you needed him. How your eyes grew to half the size of your face and you gaped up at the man, lips parted, like you couldn’t even comprehend how the friction of seven inches could make you feel so good.

If he had it his way, he would’ve loved nothing more than to show you that feeling every night, and twice the next morning if his hip wasn’t giving him too much trouble.

But, at present, the man had bigger fish to fry. Like not becoming a new father at fifty-nine if he could help it.

With the last two fluttering pulses of your heat, and almost going cross-eyed from the pleasure as he felt it, Joel yanked his big, slippery cock out of your body and made a fist around his member as he always knew to do. Tugged and pulled and grunted above you—‘Sweet girl, you’re so fuckin’ good to me’—and watched your tits and your belly for the milky white ropes to ensue.

Strangely, though, your skin stayed the same.

No cum-spray Convergence appeared before him, no opaque and cloudy fluids dribbling down your ribs, nothing. Your stomach was as bare as the rest of you, save for a few beads of sweat, and that was all there was.

Joel shook his dick harder, confused. Beneath him, you were still coming down from your high smiling ear-to-ear and staring blissfully at the ceiling. Your chest rose and fell, rose and fell in quick succession, and while you endeavored to recollect your mind, Joel was losing his.

Where the FUCK was his cum?

In no naked horizontal tango to date had Joel simply…cum without noticing. Shit like that just didn’t happen to men, least of all to ones his age, so when he’d wrung his poor cock like a sodden towel and still saw nothing come out, he felt his stomach turn and plummet inside him.

He dropped to his hands and knees in less than a moment and lowered his head between your legs.

“No, Joel!” you squealed, giggling. Kicking your feet, “Another round and I’m gonna combust, you old perv!”

But Joel wasn’t looking to get his dick wet again. He was inspecting you. Or trying to, anyway. Quickly realizing he couldn’t see a thing in the darkness, he let out a breath through his nose and lifted you off the bed. Your naked frame thrown over his shoulder, bare hip beside his head and your strangled, muffled cry of, ‘What the hell, Joel?!’ hardly seemed to register with the man carrying you off.

You were toted to the bathroom. Joel was about to ease you down on your feet. Then, appearing to change his mind at the last second, he set you onto the sink instead. Your skin bristled with indignation, anger. A little arousal.

“Last time we did it on a sink we broke the faucet,” you reminded him, feigning more dismay than you really felt inside. If anything, you liked it when your fossil-age fuckbuddy switched things up. You were just exhausted.

Heedless of your words, Joel kneeled on the floor and pried your legs apart before him. When you swatted at his silver-flecked head, he brushed your hand away.

“Hold still,” he grunted.

“How come?”

“‘Cause I said.”

How quickly he commanded that tone of a father.

“Wanna sleep,” you groaned, about to roll your eyes.

But you couldn’t deny you liked being doted on by him.

Joel’s touch was gentle. Probing. Spidering down the most sensitive parts of your bare lower half, between your thighs, and slowly coaxing you closer to the edge of the sink. Your breath hitched when you saw his head tilt.

He appeared to be deep in thought—a rare sight for anyone who’d seen Joel Miller in the postcoital state. Most every time he’d blown his load before, the man was dead asleep within ten minutes. His joints could barely hold himself upright after a half hour of plowing the back forty, much less carry you, too, so you were puzzled now.

He thumbed at the seam of your cunt, and you whined:

“Jo-el—”

“Can ya…push, baby?” His eyes flitted up quickly.

“Push?”

“Yeah, just…” With a look you couldn’t quite read, he placed the palm of his other hand on your belly. Then, pressing, “Like this. Like you’re squeezin’ somethin’ out.”

You cocked a brow in muted confusion but did as he asked. You watched his gaze, and it stayed on you.

Or, rather, on that soft and pliant spot between your legs the old man seemed to favor so much. On any other occasion, in a position like this, he surely would’ve been wearing a smile. Tonight, his lips curled into a grimace.

And twisted even further when you ‘pushed’ like you did.

At first you felt nothing. A gentle clench of your walls supplied little more than a sense of having been stretched—no novel concept to you, who’d spent the last three-and-a-half months or so getting fucked by the finest AARP affiliate alive most every night. It wasn’t until you clamped down again that you got the feeling there was something else. Something thick and warm and slow as molasses trickling out from between your folds.

You let out a low, tender, ‘Mmph’ without meaning to; it felt kind of nice. Beneath you, Joel’s face turned grave.

He watched as his spend oozed out of your freshly-fucked hole and thought of vasectomies again.

You were young—too young to know better. Too sweet and naïve to see any peril in spreading your legs for a man like him, in a world like this. And Joel swore he’d be careful. But no post-apocalyptic birth control method was perfect, or even close to it, and it was clear he’d relied too heavily on reflexes to keep him from cumming inside you. Joel was old—too old to be doing this shit.

Too grown and well-versed in sex to be making mistakes as stupid as that. His brow pinched in, and he drew his next breath as if the air around him was growing scarce.

“Joel, what’s—”

“When’s the last time you— you— uh…bled?”

Hardly more in control of his face than the rate his heart went thudding in his chest, Joel winced at the end. This time, you were the one to knit your eyebrows together. You could tell by that tight, discomfited tone he wasn’t talking papercuts, but were still unsure of his purpose.

“Like two, two and a half weeks ago. Why?”

Well, fuck.

Joel buried his face in his hands. You scooted closer to the sink’s edge, thinking little of his cum leaking out.

“Why?” you tried again. Softer this time.

An old, weathered head lifted to greet you. It was bleak.

“You see this?” Joel paused. Swiping his finger through the viscous white substance that had trickled out on the counter, in a puddle now, “Y’know what it means, right?”

You let his look, and the question, remain suspended in air for a second. Then another. Then you shrugged.

“Yeah. But…you’re old,” came your answer at length.

You’re old.

Joel and you both knew as much, but the former wasn’t quite following your train of thought. Still wanting to try and mitigate damages while he could, though, Joel reached for the roll of toilet paper that was fastened to the wall and tore himself a strip. He bunched it up and, reaching for one of your knees to spread you further for him, took to daubing the tissue across your entrance.

“What’s me bein’ old got to do with anything?” A little sharp, then, seeing you flinch when he drew too close to your clit, “‘m sorry, baby, just— gotta get this out of you.”

You made a face but let him continue anyway. Your eyes followed each movement of his hand, and reflexively, the muscles in your thighs tightened. Why bother with this when the man has so many better uses for his hands?

For a second, your eyes fluttered half-shut.

“Maria says old folks are, uh…infertile. Got something to do with a middle pause,” you said, breaths labored.

Joel stopped just long enough to shoot you a look.

“Menopause,” he corrected, all too matter-of-fact, before returning to his work, “is a woman thing.”

What the hell were they teaching in Jackson’s sex ed classes, anyway? Then Joel remembered how his brother sincerely believed that women peed out of their vaginas until he was twenty-three, and the thought of you not knowing the ins and outs of male virility wasn’t the most far-fetched idea in the universe. Besides, sexual health wasn’t exactly the community’s highest priority when the world around it was in a perpetual state of decay and hordes of fungus-faced fuckers ran rampant in the wild.

He curved a tender, careful finger against the ring of muscles framing your sex, trying to absorb more cum, and your grip on the edge of the countertop tightened.

“S-So, you—” You swallowed, throat constricting a little too, “You’re sayin’…men can make babies…whenever?”

You sounded so innocent as you said it. Joel wanted nothing more than to club himself over the head for being the cause of this predicament—of being such an instrumental part of the perceived corruption, as it was.

Meanwhile, your head was swimming in filthier thoughts.

Deeper, Joel, keep…pushing in…dee-e-per. You would have scarcely had more luck giving a fuck what Joel was talking about now than if he’d just said the room was on fire. By his voice, you knew you should’ve been paying attention, but the dexterity of his fingers was too much. He was caressing the first couple inches of your inner walls, attempting to scrape what bits of his release he could get unstuck from the flesh, but it seemed he was succeeding mostly in just turning you on. Rendering you deaf to the drone of his words as you pictured him pushing something else inside your tight, throbbing—

“—whole lotta problems for us if you’re, uh…ovulating,” Joel finished, expression taut and oblivious. You hadn’t heard the first part of that sentence and didn’t care to.

“Ovulating,” you repeated slowly. Indifferent.

Joel carried on without a hitch.

“Kids just ain’t fit for this world. I know you know that.”

You nodded along, not hearing a word.

“And if you’re— if y’ever did consider, maybe…”

Your lungs took an extra sharp inhale when Joel’s fingers coaxed out a warm, sticky glob of his load, and he petted your folds with his thumb. Then let out a breath himself.

“…y’oughta start a family with someone your own age—”

That part snagged your attention. Too swiftly, it came:

“My own age?”

Sighing, in spite of those welts of pleasure so heightened by his touch that the space between your legs began to throb and ache. Hardly possessed of more sense to form words that weren’t just echoes of his own, you tried communication from a simpler source—your foot.

You nudged his shoulder, and Joel looked up.

“What?”

“What?”

Parroting was, evidently, a hard habit to kill. Your toes curled into the bare skin of Joel’s shoulder, and when he re-inserted his finger, you ground your heel even deeper.

“When’s that ev…ever stopped us from doing it before, hm?” you said, tone strained but laced with some humor too, “Thought you liked sayin’ you’d make me a mama.”

Joel’s face flooded pink at the recollection—as a matter of fact, there had been several such memories. Instead of answering immediately, he just averted his gaze again. He anchored one hand to your thigh, and with the other teased out another string of your shared arousal before wiping his finger on the tissue, clinically, and repeating. All he had to offer in reply after was: ‘That’s different.’

And it was, to some extent. Joel wasn’t blind to the sea of uneasy looks that trailed behind you both whenever you walked the streets of Jackson together. How wide the eyes would get when instead of observing some filial display of affection play out before them, as expected, you’d loop your arms around his waist and take his lip between your teeth as you kissed—‘Can we please go home now, baby?’—that Joel was certain he’d been cemented as the resident pervert among everyone in town. Just how much worse that reputation was liable to get if there ever happened to be a round and swollen belly between that embrace someday was unthinkable. Dirty talk was one thing; parenthood another entirely.

This is for the best, became the low, grating refrain in his skull. Why he dug so hard, pushed so far inside the wet, velvety interior of your body without a thought for his own desires in that moment; he had to cull every trace of himself out of there, before he had half a chance to think.

“Baby, hey, hey, no—” Joel cut in a second later, abrupt.

No, no, no. You weren’t thinking either. Wrapping your hand around his wrist, pushing his fingers deeper inside.

Smiling a little, too.

“What are you— no, honey, don’t— you can’t,” Joel’s words splintered in every direction, watching you plunge his own index and middle fingers into the slick and the warmth he’d just been trying to get his cum out of. He looked up and saw your lids were heavy, about to close.

“What are you doin’? This ain’t…no, baby, it ain’t…safe.”

Back to sounding like a dad in no time at all.

“What’s wrong with leaving it in a bit longer? Feels nice.”

You had no idea what you were talking about. Joel pulled back on his hand and, in less than a second, had it freed.

“I just told you,” he huffed, “You’re too young—”

“I’m plenty old, Joel,” you returned, eyes snapping open, “You’ve shown me that more times than I can count.”

Joel was silent, stunned. He rose to his feet as your eyes seared holes into his, and for a second, he was uncertain whether to take a step back or reach out for you again.

“Baby…”

To his surprise, something like hurt surfaced behind your eyes. You set your lips in a tighter line, and your grip on the counter grew firmer just the same. He would’ve taken that move as his cue to lean in gently, slot his body between your thighs, and venture an apology of some sort, when the next thing you did stopped him cold.

Without a word, you slipped your free hand between your legs—eyeing Joel closely, almost scornfully, as you did.

You took your middle and ring fingers and sank them into your cunt. Not intending to let a drop of his spend leak out, you wedged them in as far as they’d go. Joel watched. Gawked. Once sufficiently pleased with the look of shock taking over his handsome, aged features, you withdrew the fingers. You brought them up to your mouth, wrapped your lips around the tips, and sucked.

It was a rare thing to get a taste of you and Joel together like this, so you savored it. You moved your mouth further down to drink it all in, peering up with wide, indulgent eyes and a look that was meant to punish.

Feels nice.

Tastes alright, too.

You’d licked the last bit of this glaze off your hand when your stomach clenched. You knew it would happen. Full as you were, you feared your body still hungered for more. As such, it hardly came as a surprise when next your muscles tensed, and you shifted closer to Joel.

“Maybe I don’t want babies with someone my own age.”

Either one of your knees were nudging his hips. Drawing him in. Joel appeared to waver for a second, unsure, but the look on his face made it clear this was mostly a matter of a delayed reaction. He couldn’t get his legs to move because the rest of him was still in awe. Staring at your lips, where the residue of his spend was glistening, then to your eyes, which were no less inviting, then up to the crown of your head and over it, to fix his stare on the mirror behind it. You watched him watch his own reflection with a look that was both hard and unkind, breathing slow. When he didn’t stir from that position after a minute, you touched a hand to his lower stomach.

And, brushing the heel of your palm against what felt like a hundred grey hairs in the old man’s happy trail—your favorite ones—you smoothed a caress along his belly, back and forth, before moving it left. Your hand came to rest on a mound of muscle and fat sitting right above his hip. Love handles, Joel had remarked one morning with vague distaste. Love handles, you’d repeated, beaming. You held on tightly now, appreciatively, and used your well-loved wall of flesh to pull him closer. As with any beckoning of yours, Joel didn’t have so much as half a mind to resist. He did, however, refuse to meet your gaze while you tilted your hips and spread your legs wider, before winding your ankles around the backs of his legs.

“Don’t you think I’d look pretty?” You pouted up at him. Your folds made a light, warm suction rubbing along the front of Joel’s cock—of course he’d grown hard again, and you could hold him, point him down to that wet embrace awaiting him patiently at the edge of the sink.

Joel cursed under his breath.

“‘Course I do…” he said, voice hoarse, “Y’always look—”

“I mean…with your baby inside me, Joel. Right here.”

As if to put a finer point on your words, you nestled the head of his cock inside the first inch of your body. Joel had to seize the laminate underneath you and grit his teeth to keep from letting out a groan too loud. That tip may as well have been a first-rate conductor of heat, and your warmth the thing that might send him spilling again

“You don’t—” Joel choked out, nearly incensed, “—don’t know what the hell you’re sayin’, baby. What that means.”

In truth, there wasn’t a world Joel Miller could imagine where a girl like you could give more than a passing thought to getting knocked up by him—a man his age. What good would it do? You had your whole life laid out before you like a four-course dinner spread; there was no sense whatsoever in letting the meal go to waste on him.

He communicated as much by moving to pull out.

You met the effort with a push of your own, sinking down another inch or two on his shaft and smiling when you saw his eyes roll back in his head at the dizzying friction.

“I know more than enough, old man—” Grin stretching ear-to-ear as you dug your heels in his ass and tugged him deeper, “—who do you think taught me all this?”

Of course, it had been Joel.

Always, always him—the only one, in fact.

Your walls drew him in like a hug. For once, Joel conjured up the strength to take a look between your lower half and his, and when he did, the next moan was inevitable. It trickled through his lips. Your body looked sublime swallowing a third of his cock, and it was almost as though a maggot had crawled into his brain, chanting:

‘Make her full. Make her yours. Tell any man who’d even think of looking her way she belongs to someone else.’

He couldn’t.

Joel would never be so selfish. Just think of her youth.

But when his gaze drifted back to yours, every thought and any word besides seemed gently to melt away. Beneath him, your eyes were two pools of desire.

“You like this…don’t you, Joel?” Your voice was tiny.

“I do.”

In fact, he loved it.

“Then why can’t we?” Why shouldn’t we?

Minuscule now, the words that reached him barely exceeded a whisper. It was as though the moment itself had drained all fear from your face—and out of Joel, all common sense from his brain—leaving you both to stare at the other with shared, stupid, anoetic looks of bliss. The man who had you beat by thirty-odd years seemed nearly of the same mind, with almost identical ignorance.

Idiocy.

“Just once?” Joel croaked.

Somewhere underneath, unseen, you smiled.

“Just one?” you murmured back.

He sank in another inch. When your walls contracted around him, Joel’s hands found your hips by force of habit and pushed your back against the glass behind it. The mirror was cool, and inside you, Joel was throbbing.

“Once,” he repeated, not thinking too deeply.

“One,” you said, with a world of more purpose.

Joel relinquished the last three inches, and with it, all of his resolve. The handsome, scarred, and plainly greying features all twisted as one, and the expression that you knew too well to mean that the man was feeling good took on the slightest hint of guilt. He gripped you tighter.

“One?” Joel panted. Confused.

He pulled out halfway just to find his home again. Your pearly slick mixed together with his spend, and both coated over Joel’s shaft in a pretty, generous sheen.

“One more of you, I mean.” You sounded too sweet. There was no way in hell you’d actually meant it.

Joel’s cheeks flushed again, but he didn’t stop, either.

“Baby…” he trailed off instead. He pushed in, pulled out, felt your tender little hole make an ‘o’ around his shaft, and then he kissed the edge of your left cheek—maybe to rein in the need in his words before he spoke again: “One’a me takes and I’m givin’ ya fifteen more, y’hear?”

The smile he received told him as much as he needed to hear. He probably wouldn’t have believed it even if you’d said the words yourself. Joel’s thrusts sped up, and as the pleasure distended in the pit of his stomach with the friction and the feel, his words flowed a little more freely.

In disbelief, “Wanna be a mama that bad for me, huh?”

Your grin grew bigger. You nodded your head.

“Make your old man a daddy, is that it?”

Exactly. Senseless as it was, your look said it all.

To have slipped between the grooves and ridges of Joel’s brain and caught wind of even a fraction of the things he wanted to do to you then, a smarter girl would have run. Would have shoved him back out as swiftly as she’d let him in and told him no, that’s gross, and gone home. And, had the grey matter floating inside your own skull not been so completely dominated by primal need and wanting, that’s likely what you would have done, too. Instead, with a head full of lewd, youthful stupidity, you seized the black-grey curls dangling at the nape of his neck and drew him closer. You spread your legs wider.

“That is what you’ve wanted this whole time, right?”

Under his scruff, a muscle tensed as Joel bit down.

That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Let the neighbors talk.

Let them say what they wanted to say—it was probably all true to the point they were trying to make, anyway. That Joel was a pervert, of course. That you were naïve, also true. That you would look too good not to stare in a white cotton frock with a bump underneath, absolutely. These were the ideas permeating your brain and his while Joel took a firmer hold of your sides and brought his nose to rest against yours. With every stab of his hips, he pressed kisses to your soft, parted lips, speaking low:

“That what you want, too, darlin’?” More serious now.

The head of his cock nicked a sensitive ridge inside you, eliciting a whimper, but you nodded. You nodded again, feeling the brush of his stubble at your mouth and your chin, and nodded again when he bottomed out, stuffing you tight. It felt a little more momentous than any other time in the past, now that you were picturing a fullness that wasn’t just him. Him and you: a concrete being to soothe the sting of his absence long after Joel withdrew.

Something to stick.

“Please say it, baby.”

Someone to call yours.

“I want it,” you said, sounding desperate.

A coil was just starting to form in the place you felt him. Drifting up, pulling tight, making your eyes go glossy and wide while they stuck to Joel’s and begged him for more.

“Want what?” He sped up, and his thrusts got sloppy.

“Want you,” you breathed, “Inside me, Joel, please.”

As if predicting your next thoughts, the man lowered his hand to your belly. You hadn’t even noticed the smallest bulge had taken shape beneath the skin. Joel slowed, momentarily, then rubbed the base of his palm against the mound where your body was obliged to make room for his cock inside you. He drew soft, tender circles there and, with the motion, sent stars flying before your eyes.

“Good girl,” he murmured, “Right here?”

“Ri— right there. Right there.”

Joel adored that sound. The soft, elated look, the gentle knoll of flesh in a bump below his hand, the whimpers rolling off your tongue repeatedly, quicker and quicker the more the pleasure inside you continued to build. Joel’s release was coming soon, too. For the hundredth time that night, he silently wished he were a little younger; so he could fill you up once, twice, twenty more times until your insides were stuffed and painted white. As if reading his mind, as he had for you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Hope our baby has your eyes,” you murmured to him.

It shouldn’t have had such a strong effect—but of course, it did. Joel pictured the small, sweet infant with irises that shone a bit like his, and his stomach caved in.

Tonight, tomorrow, or ten months down the line, he was getting you pregnant. He’d clear his whole schedule for it

“That right?” And now he couldn’t stop the smile as he spoke, leaning even further in, “What about their nose?”

He kissed the tip of yours.

“Hope they get this.”

He kissed either one of your cheeks.

“These too.”

You had to fight back a laugh while his scruff tickled skin. Two deep strokes away from the brink of release and he still somehow always stayed in tune with your needs.

The threat of your peak was perilously near. Joel’s spend and your slick, tender glaze made a chorus of sounds at each thrust, and the deeper he went, the bigger it swelled. Your smiles couldn’t stay for much longer when the feeling inside you both was being amplified like that. Sensing this, Joel took hold of your face and slipped his touch to cup your chin. He made you tilt your head up to him, as if to ask again, ‘Are you sure?’ and when you nodded, his lips twitched again. A fleeting hint of a grin, like he couldn’t be more eager to finish now if he tried.

Holding your face, cock swollen and throbbing and desperate between your walls, he felt a familiar twitch.

There it is.

[dark-fics-4-you]

Old Grudges Die Hard

dark!Bully!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Rafe Cameron had made your life hell ever since you first met him in elementary school. When you moved away for college, you thought you were finally done with your bully, but your life changes when you come face to face with him at his party a year later.

Warnings: noncon (rape), smut, unprotected sex, dacryphilia (crying & tear kink), rough sex, slapping, choking, sexual harassment, harassment, degradation, bullying, drinking, drugs

A/N: this fic begins when Reader and Rafe are in elementary school, but nothing sexual happens between them until they are 19 years old

When you were in elementary school, your parents explained to you that part of being a Pogue meant that people would hate you for absolutely no reason other than the fact that you’re poor.

Grasping your scrapped knee in pain as fat tears rolled down your cheeks, you were quick to tell your parents about the altercation at school as soon as they picked you up.

When you asked them what a ‘Pogue’ was, they exchanged a concerned look before gingerly explaining why the rude boy in your class had shoved you really hard at recess.

“B-but why would he do that?” You sobbed. “It’s so hard to make new friends here!”

“I know sweetheart,” your mother looked down at you sadly. “Is this the first time something like this has happened?”

“No! He made fun of my clothes on my first day. He said I look poor and he would know since he’s rich.” You cried louder, remembering how upset his words had made you. “A-and then all of the girls wouldn’t stop grabbing my skirt or pinching me because he told them to.”

“Have you told the teacher about this?” Your mother asked. You had reached the car now and she helped you into your seat and buckled you in.

“They just ignored me! Rafe gets away with everything,” you grumbled.

“Maybe he’s got a crush on you, Y/N,” your dad jokingly teased from the front of the car and you gagged loudly.

“Ew! No! I hate him! I would never like him in a million years!” You angrily exclaimed.

“Well, I’ll call the school and let them know he’s causing problems. He shouldn’t be able to get away with this without punishment.”

What your parents had a much harder job explaining to you was how powerful money is, and how unfair the world is.

Three parent-teacher meetings with your parents and Rafe’s accomplished little to nothing. If anything, the attention that you had brought to his behavior only made it worse.

It was remarkable how sneaky he could be in his torment of you, always waiting for the teacher’s back to turn before pinching your arm hard enough to make you scream, and bringing the teacher’s attention back to you only for you to be chastised for interrupting class.

He would accuse you of looking at his quizzes, all the while he was cheating off of you.

Any craft or art project that you worked on would mysteriously turn up damaged or missing, getting you in more trouble with the teacher for not completing work.

By the last day of 5th grade, you were thrilled to be heading off to a different middle school than Rafe.

And for three blissful years, you were safe from his cruelty. In fact, Rafe Cameron had become all but a distant memory by the time you reached high school.

Excited by your high grades in middle school and how fast you were learning the material, your parents saved up their money to put you into the best high school in Outer Banks, one that was populated mostly by rich Kooks.

You were so excited to start high school at such a nice school! It was very obvious to you that you were in Kook territory given how well funded it was, and you hoped that despite your Pogue status, you would be able to make friends.

When you realized one of your closest elementary school friends who had switched schools in the 7th grade was at the same school, you were over the moon.

Linking arms with Olivia, she gave you a quick tour of the school before leading you over to your locker. After several attempts, you opened it and loaded your things inside.

“I’ve already made so many friends and we haven’t even started classes yet!” Olivia giggled.

“Really??” You asked. If Olivia was making friends this quickly, maybe it would be okay for you.

“Yeah! And there’s sooo many cute guys here! Like Brady, Joey, Daevon, Rafe, Aaron L, Aaron R, although Aaron D is straight up fugly.”

“Wait hold on, did you say Rafe? As in Rafe Cameron?” Your stomach dropped at the thought of running into him.

Even though it had been three years and you hoped that he had changed, you couldn’t help but feel apprehension at his name.

“Oh yeah, he’s sooo cute!” Olivia gushed, looking around the hall quickly before meeting your eyes again. “Why? What’s up? Do you have a crush on him too?”

“Well, I haven’t seen him in so long, but the last time I did, he was basically my bully in elementary school,” you joked, trying to make light of the situation.

“Wait, what?? That was Rafe?!”

“What did I do?” A familiar voice from behind you made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and you swiveled around to come face to face with the last person you wanted to see right now.

His face had changed and he was obviously much taller than he had been when you last saw him (you both were), but there was no mistaking his face.

He took you in for a moment, eyes widening when he recognized you.

“No way, Y/N Y/L/N, is that really you?” His voice was incredulous and you had never wished more that you would just evaporate.

“In the flesh,” you nervously joked.

“Hi Rafe!” Olivia excitedly greeted him, but he ignored her, much to her dismay.

“Y/N um, you know…” he paused, looking a bit pained. “I uh, I feel kinda bad about how I treated you back then, that was so long ago now though.”

He laughed and you reluctantly joined in.

“But anyways, I uh- wanna make it up to you, you should come sit with my friends at lunch today.”

His offer shocked you and you couldn’t help but stare at him for a few moments with raised eyebrows.

“Is this a joke?”

“No,” he quickly responded, looking to the ground with embarrassment burning across his cheeks. “I’m just trying to be nice.”

You glanced over at Olivia who gave you an encouraging grin, looking a little jealous herself.

“Um, I guess! Thanks Rafe!” You smiled at him and he mumbled a goodbye before running off to class.

Olivia squealed with excitement before pulling you into a tight hug, “OMG!!! Y/N!! He is so into you!”

“No way! He’s probably just trying to put the past behind us,” you rolled your eyes at Olivia’s enthusiasm.

However, as lunch approached, you found butterflies growing in your stomach. Were you scared or nervous? Why?? It was just lunch. Rafe did look very different, and you couldn’t deny that he was a little cute, but you still felt anxious to see what lunch would bring.

The bell rang out, releasing you from your last class before lunch. Your stomach was in knots as you walked to the cafeteria. You grabbed your food slowly, letting people filter into the seats and trying to spot Rafe.

He confidently walked in with his friends in tow, all of them laughing loudly as they made their way to a table near the back of the cafeteria.

You swallowed your nerves, clutching your lunch tray tightly before approaching their table.

Rafe stood up, grinning at you before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and leading you to a seat before pushing you down onto it, “here, sit next to me.”

He sat beside you introducing you to all of his friends at the table, “that’s Topper, Kelce, Byce, and Joey.”

“Hi,” you nervously told the boys your name.

After meeting them, the conversation moved on to discussing all of the cool things they had done this summer. You even chimed in yourself and they all seemed interested in what you had to say.

Rafe opened his lunchbox before sighing in disappointment and chuckling, “my dumbass parents forgot the silverware again.”

He looked down at his leftover spaghetti, seemingly with no fork or spoon in sight.

Feeling like you wanted to repay Rafe for inviting you to sit with him and his friends, you told him you could grab it.

When you stood and turned to walk away, you heard the entire table break out into loud laughter.

You whipped around, nervously meeting Rafe’s eye.

“What’s so funny?” You demanded, raising your voice to cut through their snickers.

Your panic caught the attention of the students around you, who also began laughing.

“Looks like Aunt Flo is in town, Y/L/N.” Rafe cackled, and your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you realized what was going on.

On the seat that you had just been in, beside Rafe, you could see red paint drying to the seat.

Without thinking, you reached behind and your heart clenched when you felt wetness on your bottom, and you looked down to see the same red paint now smeared on your hand.

Rafe and his friends burst into laughter, along with the other tables that had been nearby when you stood up.

The cacophony caught the attention of the other students seated further away, who noticed your seemingly blood stained shorts and started laughing along at you.

You had never felt so publicly shamed in your life, and you realized that you were dead wrong to assume that Rafe had changed at all.

You didn’t think he could ever turn over a new leaf now.

Hot tears sprang to your eyes as you ran out of the cafeteria, sprinting to a bathroom stall to lock yourself in as you cried.

After 5 minutes of ugly sobbing, you finally collected yourself and decided to go to the front office to see if they could help you.

Not wanting to mention the fact that you had been pranked, you tied your sweater around your waist and asked them if they had shorts you could borrow.

Luckily enough for you, they did and you were able to get changed as everyone in the lunch period filtered out to their next classes.

You grabbed a note from the office before rushing to your class, 3 minutes after the final bell had rung.

Entering the classroom, you tried to ignore the soft chuckled and looks of recognition you got, but your stomach clenched when you realized there was only one seat left.

Right in front of Rafe.

He sneered at you as you sat down, and you did your best to ignore him.

Halfway through class, his hot breath at your ear nearly made you jump out of your skin.

“Why were you so late to class, huh? Already running to mommy and daddy to tattle?” His whispered voice gave you chills and you ignored him, with great difficulty.

After whispering to you several more times and trying to get a rise out of you, he seemingly gave up.

Until you felt his finger hook underneath your bra strap at your back, pulling it back before snapping it against your skin.

You let out a gasp before spinning around in your chair to glare at him, “what’s your problem?!”

Rafe’s lips curled into a small smirk before responding, “what? I didn’t do anything.”

At this point your English teacher had noticed your outburst, walking over to you and Rafe with a stern look.

“Why are you disrupting my lesson? This better be good.”

You parted your lips, ready to respond, but Rafe beat you to it.

“I don’t know what’s going on with her, she just snapped at me,” he laid the charm on thick and you rolled your eyes.

“He’s lying!”

“Quiet, both of you! I don’t want to hear a word from either of you the rest of this class.” She chastised you, and you felt your cheeks burn with shame.

It just reminded you of him getting you in trouble years ago and you couldn’t believe that history was repeating itself.

The rest of your freshman year was no easier, with Rafe continuing to torture you and try to get you in trouble at school.

He never missed an opportunity to call you a ‘dirty Pogue,’ or shove you against the hard lockers whenever he spotted you in the hall.

Of course, no matter how many times you reported this to the school, often with witnesses, they always had their hands tied behind their back and deep in the pockets of Ward Cameron, who used his money and influence to shield his golden child of any and all consequences for his actions.

Sophomore year, his preferred method of torture was having his buddies pick on you in gym class. They would pummel you with dodgeballs as you huddled in the corner, the gym teacher laughing too hard to stop them.

Junior year, he broke into your locker, stealing all of your textbooks and breaking the locker door. Conveniently, the cameras were down that day and because you couldn’t prove that Rafe had done it, you and your parents had to pay for new textbooks and a new locker door.

Senior year, he and all of his friends on the football team took immense sadistic pleasure from whistling at and catcalling you whenever they saw you, albeit in or out of school.

You never assumed that he had suddenly had a change of heart about you and was now interested in you. No, you knew that this was just Rafe trying to get under your skin and make you as uncomfortable as possible.

To him, harassing you had clearly become a game, one that you were growing extremely weary of as it went ignored by school staff for longer and longer.

The sick grin that would spread across his face as you squirmed in front of him proved how much he enjoyed toying with you.

Despite Rafe literally chasing you down the hallway while repeatedly calling you a ‘slut’ at full volume because you had worn a shorter skirt to school than usual one time, none of the teacher or administrators ever took your side.

For four years, Rafe Cameron made your life a living hell, and you still just couldn’t understand why.

Yes, he hated Pogues, that much was clear to you after seeing his treatment of your friends, but he seemed to harbor a deeper resentment towards you than he did towards anyone else.

No one else was ever on the receiving end of such hateful and calculated behavior, and your friends all agreed that he seemed to have it out for you specifically.

When graduation rolled around, you were less excited about graduating high school than you were to finally be done with Rafe.

Considering the fact that you were off to college while he was going to community college in Outer Banks also gave you a sense of pride. Despite his wealthy background and many privileges, you were still starting your future on a better foot, looking forward to attending Duke University on a full ride scholarship.

Your first year there was a dream come true, a whirlwind of meeting new friends, working hard in your classes, and going out to parties for the first time.

Without Pogue vs Kook bullshit poisoning the air, you found that you were finally able to be yourself and find your real identity.

Dating was still somewhat new to you, but you had at the very least lost your virginity first semester of college on a hookup with a cute guy.

It wasn’t anything special, but it could have been worse, and you were just excited to get more experience as college went on.

After the second semester ended, you packed up your dorm room to move back to Outer Banks for the summer, excited to reconnect with old friends.

Which is how you found yourself in the front seat of your friend’s car, parked in the driveway outside of a huge house party as you quickly fixed your make up last minute.

“Let’s go, Y/N! My pregame buzz is already starting to wear off!” Olivia complained from the backseat and you quickly put away your makeup before giving yourself a once over in the car mirror.

“Are you really trying that hard to impress Outer Banks boys when the Duke hotties are just a summer away??” Jade asked beside you.

“I just want to be ready for whatever the night brings,” you giggled. “I’m keeping my options open for now.”

The girls laughed along with you.

“Well you look hot as fuck already, let’s gooo!” Jade opened her car door and stepped out before you could get another word in.

“Okay, fine!”

You stepped out of the car, feeling very confident in your short party dress and heels.

Walking up to the large, imposing house, you could already hear the music pulsing loudly from inside. There were people standing outside to talk and you recognized one or two of them, saying “hi!” on your way in.

Everything was much louder inside the luxurious house, which was absolutely packed with people. The deep bass of the music rumbled throughout the house, rattling around in your ribcage.

Since Olivia and Jade had gone to parties here before, you let them lead you into the kitchen where the drinks were.

A large variety of beers, hard liquor, seltzers, and jungle juice greeted you inside, but you headed straight for the jungle juice.

“Ooh it’s blue tonight!” Olivia noticed, “I bet it’s gonna be super sour.”

You poured yourself a glass before taking a sip to try it. It tasted like blue raspberry, and the alcohol level made you gag in surprise at first, but on the second try you found that you liked it a lot.

“It’s good! Wait should we all do a shot together too?” You locked eyes with your friends, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

“Fuck yes,” Olivia cheered.

“I’m in!” Jade added and you poured out 3 shots.

Grabbing your shot glass, you raised it up, along with the other girls.

“Cheers!” You clinked them together, then tapped it down onto the table once before throwing it back.

“Okay, can we find the hot guys now?” Olivia joked and you nodded in agreement, reaching to pick up your drink.

Your hand slipped as you grabbed the plastic glass however, and it fell off the counter, spilling it’s contents all over the floor.

“Shit!” You cursed, looking around for some paper towels.

Your friends grabbed a roll off the fridge and handed it to you.

“Ugh I’m sorry!” You apologized as you got onto your hands and knees to clean up the mess. “Hey, you guys should scope out the people in the next room.”

“Ooh that’s a good idea! Let’s go Liv!” Jade grabbed Olivia by the arm and pulled her out of the kitchen, leaving you alone to mop up the sticky drink with paper towels.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” Rafe’s easily recognizable drawl made goosebumps erupt across your skin, and you froze in place. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.”

All of the sounds of the party seemed to zone out as you quickly stood up, turning to face him.

When you looked up at the man who now towered far above you, you could tell that he had changed in the year since you last saw him.

Rafe had never been a skinny guy, especially when he had played football throughout high school, but now he seemed more ripped than you had ever seen him. Clearly he had been using a lot of his time away from school to build up his physique.

You also noticed that he seemed to have grown into his face more, looking more lean and handsome than he did in high school.

The smirk that was plastered on his face was all too familiar to you though. It was the look he always had when he was playing games with you.

“Hi, Rafe,” you nervously answered. “I could say the same.”

He paused, his gaze flitting down before slowly working its way up your body. His blue eyes narrowed as they met yours and you repressed a full body shiver.

“It’s my house,” he took a step closer to you and you instinctively took one back. He chuckled at that. “That’s why I’m so surprised to see you, ‘specifically looking so dolled up.”

His words surprised you and you mentally kicked yourself for not pressing the girls for more details about whose party you were going to.

Honestly you were just surprised and a little hurt that Olivia and Jade would choose to bring you here knowing your history with Rafe.

“I- I had no clue this was your house,” you stammered, taking another step back to create more space between you and the taller man.

Despite the muffled sounds of the party around you, and the knowledge that your friends were just down the hall, you felt so incredibly alone in the now all too cramped kitchen.

“How’s Duke been treating you?” His face was even, but his nasally tone betrayed a hint of disdain.

“It’s been…” you paused, unsure what the best thing to say would be. “It’s been really good. My first year was easier than I expected, but still interesting.”

He was silent, just studying your face for a moment. Rafe’s nose twitched before he let out a flat, “that’s good.”

Already feeling a heightened anxiety from being around him, and feeling distrustful about his questions, you were ready to exit this conversation.

With your drink clutched in your hand, you made a weak excuse about needing to catch up with Olivia and Jade before trying to walk around him.

You were shocked however when he suddenly moved as you walked by, his fingers wrapping around your arm just above your elbow and stopping you in your tracks.

“What are you doing? Let go of me,” You demanded, looking up at him in confusion and trying to tug your arm out of his grasp.

He moved in front of you, blocking your exit path with his grip still firm on your arm.

“C’mon, wait a second, I- I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. I know I was really an asshole to you when we were younger, but that was so long ago, y’know? Could you just let me apologize to you?”

His words came out somewhat stammered, but still confident, and due to the forced proximity you could probably deduce why.

Rafe’s pupils were blown wide, his free hand gesturing in a jittery manner that could only point to one conclusion.

He was high as fuck.

“Please just- let go of me!” You begged with him again.

His eyes darkened, jaw tightening in annoyance as he looked down his nose at you. Rafe huffed, his lips parting to say something else but he was interrupted.

“Hey, what the fuck is going on here?”

You had never felt happier to hear Olivia’s voice. Glancing over Rafe’s shoulder, you could see her and Jade standing in the doorway glaring at Rafe.

Rafe immediately released you and you quickly rushed over to your friends.

“We were just catching up,” Rafe spoke with a casual ease as he turned to face you, like he hadn’t just corned you all alone at his party. It reminded you of all of the times you had tried to report him to teachers, only for him to sweet talk his way out of punishment.

“See ya around, Y/N.”

You shot him a dirty look before rushing out of the kitchen with Olivia and Jade in tow.

“What was that??” Jade asked as soon as the three of you were in the crowded living room.

“Better question, did you guys know this was Rafe Cameron’s house?” You angrily asked them.

You were still feeling shaken by the interaction. Maybe you should have anticipated that he would at the very least be at this party, but you had never expected he would be the one hosting it.

Olivia’s face dropped and she anxiously apologized, “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I honestly figured we wouldn’t run into him since there’s always just so many people here.”

“It’s okay,” you sighed. “He’s just being his normal, weird and creepy self. We probably won’t even see him again the rest of the night.”

You took a large swig of your drink to calm your nerves.

What this night needed was a distraction from Rafe Cameron, and you, Jade, and Olivia were still determined to have a good time tonight.

The three of you walked through the large house, coming across many familiar faces from high school.

Even while catching up with old friends though, you felt incredibly uneasy.

The feeling that there was a pair of eyes trained on you was burning at the back of your neck, and you weren’t surprised when you peeked behind yourself at one point to spot Rafe standing about 10 feet away among a group of guys.

Even when you met his gaze, his eyes didn’t flick away, and you shivered as he took a long drink from his solo cup, eyes never leaving yours.

Turning away from him and tuning your attention back into your friends, you couldn’t help but question yourself.

Were you crazy or was he looking at you differently?

The only times that he had even shown any interest in talking with you was before he was about to publicly humiliate you in some horrible way, but this time felt different.

There was something more behind his eyes that you couldn’t identify that raised alarms in your head.

No matter where you, Jade, and Olivia went, it seemed like Rafe wasn’t far behind. Despite joining the different groups nestled just out of view, you would catch a glimpse of him that would spike your pulse.

Your paranoia didn’t want you to get another drink. You felt almost unreasonably nervous about what might happen if Rafe trapped you alone, but you felt reassured by Jade and Olivia’s presence, emboldening you to serve yourself one more cup of the jungle juice.

That confidence quickly fizzled however, when halfway through finishing your drink, Jade found a cute guy to hook up with and split off from you and Olivia.

Olivia was quick to leave as well, despite your pleas that she stay with you, “there’s plenty of people you know here, Y/N! Just lighten up a bit, you’ll be fine!”

With neither of your friends beside you, you suddenly felt very alone and you looked around the room, hoping to find any high school acquaintances you could catch up with to avoid the awkward nervousness you felt right now.

Unluckily, you didn’t recognize anyone, so you threw back the rest of your drink and started making the rounds.

Downstairs yielded no results, so you made your way upstairs, hoping to find either Olivia and Jade or other friends to talk to.

You checked several rooms only to be unsuccessful in finding anyone that you knew.

Jade and Olivia hadn’t been responding to your texts and you were starting to get annoyed.

Upon finding another empty bedroom, you frustratedly sat down, pulling your phone out of your pocket to call one of them.

The sound of the door closing caught your attention, and you raised your head to see Rafe Cameron standing in front of the now closed bedroom door.

“Rafe?” Confusion tinged your shaky voice as you sat up, staring at him in the dimly lit room.

He got closer to the bed, never taking his eyes off of you. “D’you have any clue how crazy you drove me all through high school?”

A pit began to form in your stomach at his words and your throat felt tight as you looked up at the imposing blond.

His hair was disheveled, words slurring together as his angry blue eyes cut through you.

“What the hell are you talking about? If I remember correctly, you were the one torturing me!” You snipped back at him.

“You have no idea-” he sniffed, rubbing a shaky finger under his nose. “You think you’re so much better than me, hm?”

Rafe took another step closer and you shrunk in on yourself nervously, eyes darting to the door behind his looming figure. He seemed much more drunk and high now, a fact that made you even more uncomfortable.

“I- I don’t think that Rafe,” you stammered. “I never said that-”

“You didn’t have to, Y/N,” he bitterly sneered. “Y’moved out of Outer Banks for a year and now you think that makes you feel so high and mighty around the rest of us.”

“Rafe-”

“What makes you so special, hm?” He spat out, moving closer, now inches away from where you sat on the bed.

Your body was buzzing with anxious energy, but you felt frozen to the spot, completely caught off guard by this outburst from Rafe. There was nothing you could do to get yourself to move.

You had encountered Rafe when he had been drunk or high several times before, he was no stranger to coming to high school intoxicated. But you had never been trapped alone with him and completely at his mercy before and you couldn’t push down the nagging feeling that something awful was about to happen if you didn’t leave the room.

“You’re just Pogue trash, and let’s be real, it won’t be long till you fail out of college and you’re walking the streets of Outer Banks like the slut you are,” he growled and your cheeks heated up in anger.

You brought one arm up to push him back from you, but he snatched your wrist, fingers tightening around you painfully.

You let out a cry when he twisted your arm behind your back and he chuckled at the tears kissing your waterline.

“Still just the same uptight bitch you’ve always been, huh?” His eyes flitted down to your lips for a moment. He was so close you could clearly smell the alcohol on his hot breath.

“Let go of me, Rafe,” you whispered, voice shaking with fear. Sure, Rafe had been a nightmare before, but you never even imagined he would take it this far.

The taller man let out a short chuckle that sent a chill up your spine.

“Or what?” He smirked down at you, clearly enjoying your dismay at the situation he had forced you into. “Gonna tattle to a teacher?”

Your chest and throat felt tight, panic beginning to build inside you as you tried to deny what you were sure couldn’t be true.

“This isn’t fucking funny, Rafe.” You weakly tried, desperately hoping that this was just another one of his twisted pranks that he was taking too far to watch you squirm.

“You still think this is a joke, sweetheart?” He sneered, Figure Eight cockiness dripping from his nasally voice.

Time seemed to slow as Rafe leaned down, his lips covering yours as he released your wrist and locked his arm around the small of your back.

For a moment you were too shocked to react, but you quickly reached one arm up to push at his chest. Instead of pushing him away from you however, your force made you fall back against the bed, bringing him down with you.

He shamelessly grabbed at your waist, before trailing up, hands reaching past the neckline of your dress and traveling up to grope your tits as his lips found yours again.

You could barely process what was happening, your head still spinning from the alcohol. Rafe’s lips moved against yours, trailing across your cheek when your turned your head away from him to gasp for air.

One of his hands roughly grabbed your chin, pulling your jaw back towards him, and your stomach flipped at the feeling of him pushing his tongue into your mouth and groaning into the kiss.

When he shifted on top of you, grabbing your legs and spreading them apart, you struggled against him. Squirming on the bed, you managed to crawl away from him a bit, but his large hands grabbed your legs, pulling you back underneath him.

You froze when his fingers wrapped around your throat and you looked up at him with wide, nervous eyes.

“Stop fucking moving,” he huffed, forcing his free hand between your legs. He roughly pushed your dress up, pausing when he drank in your pink, lacy panties underneath.

Rafe licked his lips, a cruel smirk spreading across his face, “guess you’re not so innocent anymore, huh?”

Tears filled your eyes as you squirmed beneath him and the hand at your throat pressed down harder, pinning you in place.

His fingers ghosted over your core and you tilted your hips away from him, squeezing your thighs shut against his wandering hand.

Rafe’s eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, his blue eyes darkening as he scowled down at you.

“Y’know, I was almost gonna be nice to you…” His scowl disappeared as he trailed off, his pink lips curving into a sick grin. “But if you want to make this difficult, I can make it difficult too.”

You watched with fearful eyes as he reared one hand back, unable to flinch away due to his iron grip on your throat.

The cacophony of the party muffled your cry of pain when he slapped you hard. His golden rings made your cheek sting even more and you couldn’t stop your tears from spilling over.

Your ears were still ringing when you felt his hand leave your throat, but you were too dazed from the slap to react. Rafe’s impatient fingers dug into the skin of your thighs as he pulled your panties down your legs.

Time slowed as you could hear your heart thundering in your chest and you leaned up on your elbows to watch Rafe push his shorts down before palming his already hard cock. He was bigger than the guy you lost your virginity to, and much thicker.

Tongue thick and heavy in your mouth, you tried to tell him to stop, but the blood was rushing in your ears so loudly you couldn’t hear your own voice.

Rafe heard you though, and you watched him roll his eyes before ignoring your pleas.

He shifted on top of you, roughly parting your legs before placing himself between them. The blond wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, guiding it to your core and you struggled beneath him when he dragged the tip along your already slick lips.

“Fuck-” his low groan made your stomach flip. You reached up one hand to weakly push at his shoulders, but he swatted you away.

There was nothing you could do but watch as he planted one hand on the mattress to brace himself before pushing the tip of his cock between your folds and forcing himself inside your tight cunt.

“Rafe-” Your protest was cut off when his hand slapped over your mouth. Hot tears fell past your lashes as Rafe slowly stretched you out inch by inch.

His piercing eyes never left yours, watching your face with a sick delight as he violated you.

You shifted uncomfortably beneath him as he split you open, and you winced when he grabbed your arm, fingers digging in to your tender flesh.

You whimpered when his tip grazed your cervix. The blond tilted his hips back before pushing himself deep into you again.

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his cock twitching as you squeezed around him.

“Shit, if I knew you felt this good, I would’ve tried you out years ago,” he chuckled darkly, words slurring together.

His hand was removed from your mouth only to be replaced by his lips. You shuddered when he forced his tongue into your mouth, and you could taste the liquor on his lips.

Rafe pulled away from the kiss as he slowly began rocking his hips back and forth, stretching you out around his thick cock again and again.

Your hands came to his shoulders, nails digging in to his tanned skin as you tried to slow his pace.

Unfortunately, your attempts only amused Rafe, who sneered down at you cruelly before picking up his pace, forcing himself deep into your snug walls.

Intoxication clouded your mind, and the room seemed to be spinning even faster now.

“Fuck-” you moaned when he hit a spot that made you see stars. “Mm please-”

You were momentarily broken from the spell however when one of Rafe’s strong hands wrapped around your throat, stealing your breath.

When you tensed in fear, involuntarily squeezing around his cock, Rafe groaned, watching your misty, fearful eyes roll back in your head with each thrust.

“You look so pretty right now, Y/N. All teary eyed and cock drunk,” the blond whispered.

You wanted so badly to be able to escape, to avoid the wicked things he was doing to you, but you were so painfully aware, as every sensation was heightened by your terror.

Hips still snapping against yours, Rafe leaned down, his hungry lips finding yours. With his hand at your throat, you couldn’t turn away, and you clenched around him when he pushed his tongue into your mouth. His lips slid over yours greedily, refusing to stop until you clutched at the hand at your throat.

You took a gasping breath when he finally pulled away, your tears falling more freely now, and Rafe kissed your cheeks, licking up your salty tears.

“Perfect little Y/N is such a mess, huh?” He mocked you, mumbling against your skin before sloppily kissing you again.

You couldn’t deny the overwhelming feeling building between your legs, no matter how much it disgusted you. Shame clutched you when you felt yourself growing slicker with his every thrust.

“Don’t-” you whimpered when he hit a sensitive spot. “Stop-!”

Your assailant snickered at that, relishing your pitiful protests, “do you even know what you want right now? Y’think you’re so smart, till you take some cock and you turn into a stupid slut.”

His degrading words cut deep and your cheeks flushed in humiliation, tears spilling past your lashes.

Rafe’s pace was downright punishing, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass along with the lewd sounds of your wetness filled the room, punctuated by your whimpers and the coerced moans he drew out of you.

Hatred and resentment burned behind his blue eyes as he watched you squirm beneath him, only taking his eyes off of your face to watch his cock push in and out of your tight cunt.

Drawing even closer to the edge, you could feel the dam inside of you ready to burst, and Rafe could too; you were practically pulsing around him now.

“Yeah, that’s it sweetheart.” His low, nasally voice made your stomach flip, and you squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to resist the inevitable. “Just do the one thing stupid sluts like you are good for and make a mess all over my cock.”

With another thrust, the dam burst, and you whined as your orgasm cut through you.

Rafe fucked you through it, cursing when he felt you squeezing around him like a vice. His grip on your throat tightened as his pace reached a crescendo.

“Fuck-” he growled, his hips stuttering before he pushed deep into you one more time, painting your walls with his sticky cum.

You squirmed beneath him, trying to push him off of you, but he easily grabbed your wrists, pining them down as he stayed buried inside you. You felt nauseous when his cock pulsed as you struggled, the reminder that he was still getting off on your distress was sickening.

His lips draped over yours again and you whimpered into the kiss, body still shaking as you tried to wrap your head around what had just happened.

By the time he broke the kiss, your head was spinning, and you somehow felt more drunk than when you had first entered the room.

When Rafe finally pulled out of you, you shuddered because you could feel his cum slowly leaking out of you.

Instead of getting off the bed like you expected, the blond shifted on top of you, lowering himself to get a better view of your sore pussy.

“Shit, Y/N, hope you’re on a good birth control,” he chuckled wickedly, and you squirmed when he used two fingers to push his cum deep inside of your sensitive cunt. “Cause there’s no way in hell I’m paying child support for some Pogue brat.”

Your cheeks burned in anger and shame, fear and disgust sparking in your gut at his words.

Rafe pulled his fingers out and climbed off the bed, quickly pulling his clothes back on before seemingly looking around for something as you slowly sat up.

He found what he was looking for, picking up your pink panties from the ground before locking eyes with you and then stuffing them into his pocket.

You shivered as he triumphantly smirked down at you, “I’m gonna.. get back to the party... You should clean yourself up, you look pathetic right now.”

Embarrassed, you looked down at the bed, not wanting to meet his eyes as he further humiliated you.

“And uh, don’t let me catch you alone again, Y/N,” Rafe sneered, laughing as he closed the door behind him.

[sky-high-standards]

Yandere Emperor x fem reader

set in medieval times. usual warnings y'all should know the drill by now☺

Your kingdom was being invaded and everyone did what they could to save it but the invaders were too strong you watched so many innocent people being slaughtered by the invaders and the survivors were taken hostage including you.

These invaders were sent by the emperor who was a cold and merciless man until he met you~

You were taken into the magnificent palace where you were forced to work for the emperor's wife Imelda, she was an extremely insufferable woman and treated all of her servants like crap. It wasn't the best life, but it could be far worse but unfortunately Imelda and the Emperor were having a rough patch and rumors said he was having multiple affairs with other women, so she was worse than usual.

You were on your way to bring Imelda her breakfast when someone bumped into to you and that person just happened to be the emperor you looked up at him wide eyed and covered in Imelda's breakfast and apologized profusely while he just stared at you he didn't look angry all he did was stare at you as you quickly collected everything and bowed before you ran off but little did you the moment he saw you that nervous look on you face got him excited in a way that no woman including Imelda had ever done something about you just caught his attention.

You walked into Imelda's room to see her crying on the floor you asked her what happened an she totally lost it.

Imelda: That's none of your concern you pathetic slave your lucky to be here but remember your place and stay out it!!!

You then left not wanting to deal with her again. It turns out that the king had just gotten tired of her and sent her off which was great news for everyone since they didn't have to deal with her anymore. Naturally the Emperor had to remarry so he had many beautiful women come to the palace where he would choose his new bride due to you being a servant you had to assist the women being sent but the strange thing was that each time a woman was being presented, he glanced at you for every single one it was as confusing to the emperor as it was to you he was just drawn to you every time he saw you a wave of excitement and...love? came over him that he wasn't used to.

Eventually he chose a wife she was very beautiful and seemed like a very suitable wife, but he never got that feeling when he was around her. The emperor's wife whose name was Miranda was very kind and caring and even befriended you she was great in every possible way, but everyone could feel the emperor didn't love her so poor Miranda made it her mission to win his affection yet nothing worked so she slowly began to give up on his affection while u didn't have to try you started to see the emperor a lot more often and you noticed his cold crystal blue eyes following you as you cleaned and unbeknownst to you it took a great deal of strength to restrain himself from pouncing of you and making you his he would go feral on the inside when you bend down to clean in his bedroom it was embarrassing how you didn't even have to do much to make him hard.

Slowly the emperor tried to have you around more to ease his hunger like "accidentally" brushing his hand against yours or having you bend down to get his pen that he "accidentally" dropped. All he wanted to do was make you his to own every inch of you, but he restrained himself, but it got harder to each time almost as if you were teasing him.

Tell me if I should make a part 2 I'm tired rn

Stay hydrated and safe love Y'all

[rosewood-cafe]

Eris Vanserra x Rhysand's sister.

AN: Omg, I have never written for Eris before, and I am so nervous. Sorry if the ending seemed rushed, I am planning for a part two, but it will take me a long time to do lol.

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

The sound of blood trickling down your back and onto the cold stone floor filled your ears. Drip Drip Drip. Another involuntary back spasm had you writhing with pain. Bile burned your throat as you empty out the contents of your stomach onto the floor next to you. Not having enough strength to move further away nor care to. Your cell was dark and cold. There was a small metal fireplace in the back. The fire was down to cinders and ash mocking you with false hope of warmth.

You were going to die here, you thought. Your wounds still have not healed yet. You had no proper clothing to fight off the cold, and you were stripped bare except for a pair of raggedy trousers. Shame hit you, clawing its way up through your chest. If the wounds would not kill you, you would surely die from the embarrassment alone. Being put on display in front of everyone, stripped, and had her wings taken. Even someone as powerful as the 'Princess of the Night Court' could not have saved her wings.

You wanted to laugh at the irony. You fought against Tamlin and his father to keep your wings, only for them to be ripped away years later. A small laugh escaped your throat at the cruel twist of fate. Hours had passed, yet you still bled, your fingers growing numb. Unstoppable tremors racked your body from the shock and cold still running its course. This must be what Hell is, you just knew it.

"I am going to die here." You finally admitted to yourself, tears collecting in your eyes. Dripping down your face in a steady stream, no matter how hard you tried to stop them. Screams echoed through the cell bringing you back to the harsh reality, you are still under the mountain, and you are going to die here.

'Where is Rhy's?" You thought of your older brother, surely he would gave come to help you out by now? No, you thought. There has not been a scrape at your mental sheilds, or no quick visits like times before. Just absolutely nothing since the... latest punishment. You trembled harder, knocking your upper back into the makeshift bed making you cry out in agony. Your wounds bleeding harder from the force, making you dizzy. A scrape of metal on stone grabbed your attention, and your eyes snapped up to the intruder.

"Hello, little Fawn." You looked towards the intruder with wary eyes, desperately trying to stay awake and aware. Your eyes caught the signature fiery red hair and those piercing amber eyes. Eris Vanserra was in your cell. You threw your arms over your bare chest, feeling the sharp claws of embarrassment digging into you once again. His eyes raked over your body, sending icy chills down your spine. A small whimper of pain escaped your lips at the slight movement.

"What are you doing here?!" you all but growled at the Autumn heir. A smirk formed on his lips as he stepped further in and shut the heavy door. You retreated further back into the cell, "G-Get out!" you hissed, venom laced in your voice. He ignored you, his eyes raking over you once again, noticing the blood pooling underneath you. Too much blood, he thought to himself. He wondered how you had even lasted this long bleeding out. "Where is Rhysand?" he asked. "Or does being Amarantha's whore take more priority than his dying sister?" You narrowed your eyes in warning. You knew of Rhys's sacrifices and the game he has to play. Amarantha's whore is a title he will bear for the rest of his life. Your eyes fell towards the stone floor before answering.

"I do not know where he is," you finally say after a few seconds of silence. He lets out a humorless laugh. "His precious little sister, Princess of the Night Court, lies on death's door, and he doesn't even bother to show up for your last moments?" You huff in annoyance, "Don't act like the Vanserras are anything but cruel. I would be careful, Eris. You have a mighty fine bounty on your head. I'm just waiting to see which brother takes it for his own personal gain."

"I doubt you'll get to see it, considering you'll be dead before the morning rises," he stated, a lazy smirk playing on his lips. As if on cue, another tremor hits you full force, and you scream out in agony. "If you only came here to insult me and my brother, You. Can. Leave." you gritted out slowly, the pain seeping back into your body. You let your arms fall from your chest, leaning over to your cot to rest your aching head. Eris studied you for a moment with a calculated stare. "I can help you if you like." A flame appears in his hands, its light casting eerie shadows on the cell walls. "I am no healer, but I can at least stop the bleeding with my flames." You remained quiet, until a scoff interrupts the stretched silence. "Unless you rather die? Let me see your wounds." Not a request, but a demand.

"Why do you care? I'm almost dead anyway," you ask, tears lining your eyes once again. He takes a tentative step towards you, his mask of indifference faltering. "Because you do not deserve to die here." Another step closer. "Because you deserve a better fate than this." He was in front of you now. "Because you do not yield, not now, not ever." Seeing you in this vulnerable state unnerved, Eris; he didn't know why he had offered his help to you. It was, as if he was under a spell, a string tied to his rib, drawing him towards you. Perhaps witnessing you this broken, stirred an emotion he thought had been snuffed out years ago. He did not, could not dwell on the feeling now. A frustrated tear steamed down your face as you let out a shaky breath. "Okay." You said, you feel like you shouldn't trust him, but the way his words seem so sincere... fuck it. You put your trust into Eris Vanserra, and hope it wouldn't bite you in the ass later.

His shoulders sagged slightly with relief as you turned your back to him, revealing your wounds. Eris walked over to the fireplace and with a flick of his wrist, ignited a small fire. "This will not last long; it's nearly all ash," he said. "But I need the light to see your wounds." He moved behind you. "May I?" he asked before touching you. You let out a small hum. "Words, Fawn." You let your head drop, "Yes." You stated weakly, the adrenaline, finally wearing off. He puts his hands on your shoulders and gets on his knees.

"I have dreamed of burning you and your Court with my flames, but never like this," he said, his voice carrying an emotion you couldn't quite decipher. "Forgive me Y/n, for, my flames aren't so forgiving." He places his large calloused hands onto your back. Your back was ablaze with searing flames, the agony so intense it made Aramantha's torture seem like child's play. A guttural scream tore from your throat, accompanied by scalding tears streaming down your face. You were engulfed in unbearable torment. "Stop moving so much," Eris grunted, firmly pressing an arm across your chest to keep you still as he continued his grim task. Your throat felt raw from the incessant screaming, the pain blinding and merciless. The acrid stench of burning flesh was so overwhelming, you feared you might vomit. You gripped onto Eris's forearm as a sob fell from your lips. "Stop! I-I Can't!" You almost pleaded with him, Eris let out a curse under his breath as you bucked against his hold.

"You can, and you will," he snapped at you, his brow furrowed in concentration, a bead of sweat trickling down his face. Blood smeared his hands and stained his clothes. "I am almost done," he muttered, more to himself than to you. The cell door suddenly swung open, crashing against the stone wall with a resounding thud. Eris froze, his eyes darting towards the door. Finally, he released his grip on you, and you exhaled in relief.

"What the hell are you doing to my sister?!" Rhys's voice thundered through the room, his fury radiating like a palpable force. "Rhys..." you whispered weakly, your strength ebbing away. You collapsed onto your side, letting the darkness envelop you completely.

[willows-escape]

Carpe Diem - Musical!Erik x Reader

Pairing: Musical!Erik x Fem!Reader

Summary: You'd received possibly the worst news a high status woman could receive in their entire life time, and you had only one thought and one goal in mind. Erik had a different one.

Warnings: angst, forced marriage, a lot of crying, jealousy, uninformed consent (?), almost getting caught, oral (f and m receiving), finger sucking, vaginal fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, crying during sex, forced mask reveal, mentions of murder, gaslighting, manipulation, kidnapping

Words: 9570

Notes: sorry this took so long, coursework's a pain in the ass and i've written and deleted what i've wanted to write so many times. i've written seven different stories at this point and rewritten them each at least three times. i decided to pull back all the complexity of what i was originally going for and ending up with this thing.

i tried to make the phantom more submissive because i know people wanted to read that but musical!erik just doesn't feel submissive to me, at least not in this kind of scenario. he's just too much of a control freak i feel and i think he would become more of a switch later into a relationship when he grows comfortable.

hopefully i don't take so long to write my next thing in future, and i pray i continue to improve in my writing skills lol.

You were in flight, your heart pounding a thunderous rhythm in your chest, matching the frenzied drumming of your feet against the opera house's ancient wooden floors. Every sinew in your body screamed in protest, yet you willed yourself to run faster, harder. The adrenaline coursing through your veins drowned out all thought, all reason, save for one - you have to get to the rooftop.

Your relentless fate was stealthily stalking you, icy tendrils of fear unfurling down your spine, as you envisioned the pitiless roots of destiny relentlessly chasing you, eager to entangle you within their remorseless clutches. The letter you gripped in your trembling hand was the harbinger of your impending doom, a chilling memento of the ominous vow you had once made.

As you turned the corner, your heart pounded in your chest as you darted up the flight of stairs towards the clandestine meeting point. The anticipation hung heavy in the air, matching the dusky sky's ethereal haze. As nightfall descended, it signalled the time when both of you could shed your public facades and bask in the tranquillity of each other's presence, shrouded in shadows and secrecy.

Every muscle in your thighs and calves screamed in protest, pleading for mercy as you drove yourself onward. You forced yourself through each step. As you pushed through the final barrier, the rooftop door swung open, revealing your destination. A gust of crisp, cold air met your face, a shocking contrast against the sweltering heat of your exertion. The sudden chill cut through the stifling humidity clinging to your skin, offering a brief, but sweet, respite.

"Erik? Erik, where are you?" you called out aimlessly, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath.

The tension of anticipation didn't linger long. Soon, the haunting familiarity of the black suit and porcelain mask punctuated your line of sight. A smile, so ignorant and blissful, graced his hidden face, while your own mirrored nothing but distress. As your eyes met, his smile faltered and a sense of panic ignited within his gaze.

"Has somebody hurt you?" The first conclusion came tumbling out of his lips as he rushed to stand in front of you, hands reaching out to caress your arms.

An onslaught of feelings of safety and security besieged you. The caress of his gentle touch, his sugar-coated words, and the purity of his love stood stark against the frigid future looming ahead - ice-cold eyes, indifferent touch, and a home that was nothing more than an glorified prison. Your vision blurred, as if submerged underwater, with briny tears carving trails down your icy cheeks. Your body convulsed with splutters and coughs, surrendering to the raw unravelling of your emotions.

"My dear, please, who did this to you?" His voice wavered, desperation tinging his plea. "I can't bare to see you like this," he confessed, his heart aching to draw you into his arms, to cocoon you in a protective embrace. Yet, his hands twitched with uncertainty, unaccustomed to offering unbidden comfort and tormented by the fear of making the wrong choice.

Struggling, you gasped for the words that seemed to evade your grasp. Finally, in a pitiful whimper, you managed to choke out the truth, "My father. It's my father."

"He has hurt you?" His words, taut with restrained fury, barely managed to mask the cataclysmic rage broiling within his core. His eyes flamed with the intensity of a thousand suns, pledging an unspoken oath that he would move heavens and earth to guard you from any harm. He would not let this happen again, his earlier leniency was a mistake he wouldn't repeat.

"No... well, yes, sort of," you stammered, every word a struggle as tears choked your speech. Your sentences, muddled and hardly coherent, tumbled out in a rush. He stood there, a silent pillar of patience amidst your storm. "The curtain had just fallen on tonight's performance, when Madame Giry found me, said someone had come to the Opera Populaire with a letter for me. I ventured backstage, and – and –”

"Take your time," he reassured you, trying to keep his tone soft and soothing when he was feeling anything but that.

"My father," you began, your voice trembling slightly, "He sent this to me," you raised your arm, presenting him with the damning parchment that bore the news, "It declares that I have a single week to make my return... and to dutifully submit to his wishes, to bind myself in marriage to a man he's handpicked for me.”

As the words tore from your lips, a deluge of sobs overpowered you, shattering your composure into fragments. You crumpled onto the frigid concrete, your body convulsing with the ferocity of your wails, echoing the raw torment festering within.

"He has already decided my fate, to wed me to Alexander Beaumont, heir to one of the wealthiest fortunes in Paris. But, Erik, I cannot bear the thought! I'd choose the most excruciating demise before even contemplating marrying him!" Your tears began to mingle with your snot, humiliation gnawing your insides, knowing he was bearing witness to your disarray. Yet, you were powerless to stop it, and no amount of snivelling could quell the impending sense of doom building within you.

Erik was consumed by a fury so intense, it was a blinding white light in his mind. Thousands of brutal scenarios played out in rapid succession, each a unique way he could annihilate the man who dared to pull you away from him. The man who had reduced you to nothing more than a pawn, a puppet to be used in his ruthless climb up the social ladder.

"I've met him before, his gaze piercing through me, speaking of me as though I were a mere fly on the wall... If I were to wed him, I'd be reduced to nothing more than a trophy wife, imprisoned within the confines of a household, expected to bear children annually until nature robs me of the ability," you choked out between sobs, bitterly recalling his elaborate discourse to your father about his archaic aspirations for a wife, a die-hard traditionalist to his core.

"The Opera Populaire, an impossibility now. My friends, forever out of reach. And you... you, I shall never feast my eyes upon again." The tears assaulted you, battering you with the unrelenting force of a tempest as the brutal reality bore down, each tick of the clock amplifying the sting of truth.

"Then don't go," he uttered, his words masquerading as a suggestion, yet ringing with the commanding tone of a demand, "Don't return home, do not bend to your father's will. There's always another escape, always."

"Oh, Erik," your voice broke, anguish seeping into each syllable, "I can't." A hard lump constricted your throat, the bitter reality of your predicament sinking in. "My father...he wields power, he has influence. If I dare not return, all of Paris would be hunting me down, a bounty on my head. I'm cornered, Erik. I'm left with no other choice."

Before he could utter another syllable, you swiftly eradicated the residue that had amassed on your skin and surged to your feet. Your eyes were ablaze with a bloodshot hue, stray teardrops stubbornly tracing a path down your face. Yet, an unyielding determination was etched across your features. You yearned for one final moment, one last poignant memory before the unavoidable reality of leaving him forever would consume you.

"Take me," you urged in a hushed plea, your gaze ensnaring him with such profound intensity that he was left with no room to misconstrue your meaning. Your purpose was undeniable, and it struck him into stillness. "Please, I beg you, do not deny me this final experience, this closing moment of exhilaration. For I am to be condemned.”

Your fragility was palpable, an image of vulnerability and innocence that made the idea of your bodies entwining, your souls merging into one, nearly impossible to suppress. Erik was gripped by a relentless thought; this encounter wouldn't be your last. A scheme was rapidly taking shape in his mind, a bold plan that he was awaiting the opportunity to enact. Yet, beneath it all, he was merely a mortal, how could he resist such a sweet opportunity laid before him?

As though your initial plea wasn't potent enough, you read his silence as a stark rejection. With a desperate urgency, you persisted, "I must experience what it means to unite with someone who harbours a profound love for me, and whom I equally adore, before time steals this chance forever. This is my final request of you, please, grant me this.”

Every trace of Erik's reservations - his mask, his insecurities, his lack of experience - evaporated in an instant. His entire being was consumed by the sight of your pleading eyes and enticing lips, desperately imploring him to make love to you. The intensity of your need, your last request born out of the fear of never seeing him again, ignited a scorching fire in his abdomen. His slacks tightened unbearably as his body responded to the raw desire coursing through him.

He didn't respond with words. Instead, his body lunged forward, crashing against yours, his lips desperately colliding with yours in an intoxicating, chaotic ballet. It was flawlessly imperfect, devoid of rhythm or pattern, yet it echoed the sheer intensity of your shared lust and fervour. A surge of electricity coursed through your veins, your skin prickling, your stomach churning with a heady mix of anxiety and exhilaration as you passionately kissed him.

Small, desperate gasps and whimpers escaped your trembling lips as they urgently sought his, the icy chill of Paris causing a cascade of goosebumps to erupt across your skin. You clung to him with a ferocity born of pure, raw fear, as if you were precariously perched on the brink of an abyss and he was the only tether keeping you from plummeting into the void. He was your sole anchor in a sea of chaos, the only force keeping you alive.

The searing heat of your skin beneath his fingertips sent his mind spiralling, the sensation of you - so soft, so yielding under his hands, a staggering, unfamiliar experience. He could feel the rhythmic surge and ebb of your chest, your breath, a hot whisper against his face as your lips clashed and fused, time and time again - he was certain he could feel the pulsating rhythm of your veins as your blood roared through your body. So vivid, so fiercely alive.

Inescapably, the mask had turned into an intolerable burden. Each movement caused it to ruthlessly scrape against your skin, the epidermis painfully inflamed and raw. With a heavy sense of reluctance, you retreated, your eyes slowly fluttering open to behold the breath taking spectacle of your angel, gasping for air, his eyes wide and darkened with intensity.

"My love," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, your fingers nervously fiddling with the lapels of his coat. "I know this is a significant request..." The tension hung heavy in the air between you two. "But, would you consider... removing your mask?" Your heart pounded in your chest as you dared to meet his eyes. "It's been catching on my skin, and it's starting to hurt. If it's too much, I understand! We can find another way. It's just that... I yearn to see all of you, unobstructed."

His expression shifted to one of grave solemnity. Deep within, he had known this moment would arrive, yet he had clung to the hope that it would be delayed, that he could savour more of you and this opportunity before you were cruelly torn from his grasp. Now, his countenance was a spectacle of terror, a sight so horrific that he was certain it would repel you instantly, forever severing any connection you could have had. It was this dread, this fear of losing you, that compelled him to deny your request.

"No," he declared, his voice cold and final, making it clear he had no intention of prolonging this conversation any further.

A lump formed in your throat, a silent reflection of the tension in the air. His features were chiselled, hardened as if sculpted by an unseen force. His eyes, unyielding and intense, bore into you, commanding silence without uttering a single word. You were far from foolish, aware that any protest would shatter the brittle tranquillity of the moment. Respecting his unspoken plea, you held your tongue, allowing the silence to envelop the space between you.

You plunged back into the fervour of your previous kisses, this time contorting awkwardly to keep your face clear of the cold, threatening porcelain weapon. With each passing moment, you fought to maintain the connection, a bizarre dance with a man whose full face you'd never seen. A wave of filth washed over you, a creeping sense you should be drowning in shame, but you found no room for such feelings. Not when his touch set your skin ablaze with desire.

His hands settled on the small of your back, gently rubbing above the fabric of your dress. You naturally moved closer, your soft chest against his solid one. Your hands wandered, touching every part of him within reach.

"Is this what you call a lovers outing, Piangi? It's cold and dirty!" The piercing voice of the renowned prima donna erupted from the rooftop entrance, slicing through the silence. You and Erik froze.

"Ah, forgive me, my love," replied her lover, his familiar Italian accent flooding through his words. His voice sounded awkward and dejected. One could almost imagine his look of shame, realizing his romantic gesture wasn't appreciated. "I wanted to look at the stars with you, but if that's not what you desire-"

"Forget it," Carlotta spat out. The echo of footsteps approaching sent jolts of panic through your veins, your heart hammering against your ribcage. Erik, however, remained calm amongst the chaos. His fingers laced through yours, pulling you urgently towards the shadowed sanctuary of the rooftop's far corner.

"If you get too cold, dear, I have my coat with me. Just say the word and I will give it to you," Piangi spoke, his voice straining with the effort to pierce through Carlotta's gloom.

As their voices clashed in petty discord, a sudden blast of searing air prickled the nape of your neck. Goosebumps erupted across your skin, your hair bristling on end. A whispered command, laced with urgency, pierced the tension, "Stay behind me and follow. Make no noise. Not even a whisper."

With a sense of increasing trepidation, you gave a tense nod. You watched, breath held, as Erik emerged from your concealed sanctuary, prowling the expanse of the rooftop with a predator's stealth. He would intermittently halt, shielding himself within various makeshift hideaways. You hastened to mirror his movements, until at last, you found yourself inside the familiar confines of the opera house. His hand ensnared yours, his grip firm yet comforting, as he urged you onwards into the unknown.

It didn't take long before he ceased his steps, drawn like a magnet to the first mirror you encountered. His grip on your hand slackened for a fleeting moment, his fingers dancing over the wall in a cryptic rhythm. There was a tense hush, then the sharp click echoed in the silence, and the mirror slid back with a menacing grace to unveil a hidden passageway.

"What on earth?" you whispered, a tremor in your voice as you gazed upon the hole in the wall where once a mirror was.

Erik wheeled around abruptly, a sense of urgency flickering in his eyes as he extended his hand to you. You paused, uncertainty clouding your features, "Where does this passageway lead? Where are you taking me?"

"Trust me," he implored, his voice barely a whisper, yet carrying an undertone of desperation.

You swallowed, your throat tight with a mix of fear and anticipation. The situation and context around it weighed heavily on your mind, a potent cocktail of potential consequences swirling before you. The silence was deafening as you deliberated, the seconds stretching into what felt like an eternity. Then, with a deep, steadying breath, you extended a trembling hand towards him, a silent acquiescence. You nodded, a solemn gesture of trust, surrendering your fate into his hands.

He responded with a nod of his own, guiding you towards the opening. The entrance was inconveniently elevated from the ground - not to an extreme where a leap was required - but enough to pose a considerable risk. With a firm grip, he assisted you as you stepped inside, ensuring the voluminous folds of your dress evaded entanglement. He trailed in your wake, the air heavy with anticipation.

With a precise touch, he activated a concealed point on the wall, causing the mirror to slide back into normalcy. The echo of silence descended, the only sound being the synchronization of your breaths reverberating through the confined passageway. A whirlwind of questions swirled in your mind, each one violently dismissed as the realisation of your shared purpose gripped you. Of what you were coming down here to do.

He steered you through a maze of bewildering turns, his whispers of caution echoing in the cold, damp air. His grip on your hand was constant, a lifeline in the suffocating darkness. His familiarity with the convoluted tunnels was unsettling, and a chilling worry gnawed at you, as you wondered what hidden dangers made him tread with such measured care.

Soon you were greeted by a lake, its misty greens and blues shimmering so bright it twinkled like glitter. The view was mesmerising, the many candles scattered around lending the stone walls a glorious golden glow that took your breath away. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before, the foliage blending together beautifully as it decorated the walls. You gasped.

He guided you towards a gondola which was tethered to a stout wooden stake driven deep into the ground. With a steadying hand, he aided your entrance into the vessel, ensuring your balance as you nestled into the boat's hollow core. Following your lead, he stepped in with calculated caution, his grip closing around a weathered paddle, poised at the ready to commence the strenuous task of rowing.

"What is this place?" You asked, ogling at the scenery around you.

"My home, my hiding place, the Phantom's lair, the sewers under the opera house..." he drawled off, beginning to row, "whichever one you wish to call it. All apply."

"You live down here?" You questioned, your brow furrowed as the icy air bit harshly at your exposed skin. The beauty of the place was undeniable, yet it held a chilling solitude that whispered of profound isolation, making it a daunting place to inhabit.

"Since I was a young boy," he spoke as if the words that spilled from his lips held no weight.

You couldn't shake the thought that something terrifying lurked beneath the mask. He had warned you, but you'd never considered how truly terrible it could be until now. Your eyebrows shot up, eyes dilating as your mind spun wildly with grotesque possibilities. What could be so monstrous about his visage that he was compelled to conceal it in the depths of a dank cellar?

Clearly, you had no intention of broaching the topic; it would undoubtedly ruin your plans for the evening. Yet, as the journey unfolded, you became lost in a whirlwind of contemplation, feverishly imagining the concealed face beneath the mask. Your affection was unwavering, regardless of how horrific his face was you'd feel the same way, but the mystery added an exhilarating layer of intrigue that consumed you.

Within mere minutes of fervent rowing, the silhouette of land loomed ahead, jolting you from your daze back into reality. You remained in the confines of the boat as Erik disembarked with calculated precision. He secured the boat with a swift, practiced motion, restoring the paddle to its rightful place. Then, he pivoted towards you, his hand outstretched in an offer of assistance, his eyes locked onto yours.

You smiled graciously, accepting his helping hand as you stepped out of the boat. You were enchanted, looking around at his home and how it was decorated. It was beyond your wildest imagination, intriguing and enigmatic, labyrinthine and gothic.

You were struck by the vast arrangement of candles. They casted a dim, dancing light which bathed the walls in an ethereal glow, casting long, eerie shadows on the dank stone. There was a majestic, ornate pipe organ, and a big mirror off to the side. All the way in the farthest corner, you spotted a bed, grand and draped in heavy, dark fabrics. You were in awe.

Erik did not give you long to stand and stare, as he was quick to pull you in the direction of where his bed resided. After a long, unfamiliar journey, you found yourself standing at your ultimate destination.

Anxiety, like a shadowy predator, stalked and then launched itself upon you, its claws sinking deep into your psyche. Your blood surged in a torrent, your heart hammered an urgent rhythm against your ribs, and your palms became slick with cold sweat as the full weight of your hasty agreement descended upon you.

"Now, it's my turn to pose the question," Erik initiated, his every footstep purposefully resonating tension as he incrementally diminished the space between you both. Your eyes, wide and alert, mirrored the mounting suspense. "Will you do this with me? Allow us to feel each other, become one, before you are to leave and never return?"

Tears welled threateningly in your eyes, a bitter reminder to the tortuous ordeal that loomed above. A personal hell was waiting, embodied in the stony indifference of your father and the pitiless gaze of your suitor. Discarding caution and fear, you hurled yourself against him with the force of a dead weight. In the face of despair, your inner flame roared back to life, desperation clawing its way to the surface once more.

His arms coiled around you with an intensity that left your breath hitched, his lips fiercely claiming yours. With a sudden, swift motion, he hoisted you into the air, your legs automatically snaking around his waist in response. He gently, yet assertively, laid you upon the cool sheets of the bed. He loomed over you. He began to crawl atop, compelling your legs to part in silent compliance. A gasp of anticipation escaped your lips, swallowed by his own, as you felt the weight of him gradually descend upon you.

As you kissed, the inadvertent brush of his crotch against your core sent a jolt through you, driving your senses into a wild frenzy. The searing heat from his arousal, even through the barrier of his trousers, was palpable, each pulsating throb a teasing promise of what was to come. Your breath hitched, heart pounding in your chest, as saliva-slick tongues ventured into uncharted territories, escalating the tension that hung in the air.

Driven by instinct, Erik's hands made a beeline for your sleeves, yanking with an insatiable restlessness, a silent plea for their removal. You countered his advances, pushing him back, a giggle escaping you at his stubborn demeanour. Undeterred, his lips sought new territory, latching onto the sensitive expanse of your neck, peppering kisses and grazing his teeth in a seductive dance that sent shivers down your spine.

Erik's movements against your aching core grew in intensity as he realised what he was brushing against, threatening to silence you completely. Yet, if he truly desired your uninhibited vulnerability, he needed to grant you the space to shed every layer.

"Erik," you tried to infuse your voice with authority, but it faltered, punctuated by your ragged sighs and helpless whimpers, "I'm laced into a corset, it needs to come off. Release me."

He moved with urgency, moving away from your form and allowing the space for you to rise, your knees pressing into the solid mattress. With a focused precision, you began to unbutton your dress, the fabric gliding over your head with a practiced ease, your focus fully enveloped in the task at hand. So engrossed were you, you failed to notice the predatory way his gaze drank in the sight of your bared skin, or the noticeable gulp that resonated from his throat as more and more of you unfolded before his eager eyes.

Your fingers trembled, struggling against the stubborn knot that held the ties of your undergarments in a vice-like grip. It was a battle you were unaccustomed to, always having the help of someone else to aid you with your corset. Your difficulty was palpable, a silent cry for assistance. Lifting your gaze to Erik, your eyes were wide, desperate pools of plea.

"Would you... could you, do the honours?" you asked through gritted teeth, your fingers clawing fruitlessly at the defiant knot, the bulge in the string a mocking testament to the maid's overly-zealous efforts.

In a silent affirmation, he nodded his head, his hand reaching out with an unspoken authority to rotate your form, granting him unimpeded access to your corset. You felt your undergarments grow increasingly wet under his firm handling, a damp patch steadily spreading across the fabric in response to your mounting anticipation. Heat suffused your cheeks, each accidental graze of his fingers against your back as he navigated the complexities of the female attire sending a shocks of tension through your body.

After an intense struggle, he conquered the knot, crafted by your maid's expert hands. But victory left him bewildered.

"Now that it's undone, what's the next step?" His gaze bore into the corset's lacings, a new challenge awaiting him.

With a chuckle rippling through the tension, you interjected, "Allow me." Swiftly, you unhooked the busk at the front, stripping the garment from your form. It cascaded to the floor, disappearing from view.

Bare and unshielded, your form was revealed from the hips upward, only your undergarments veiling what remained. There you were, a portrait of vulnerability, kneeling in anticipation yet turned away, placing a blind faith in him, trusting his unspoken intentions.

His hands seized your hips with an assertive grip, drawing you into his sphere, letting you tumble back onto the mattress as you laid facing him. Your breasts bounded with the abrupt motion, your soft contours and supple skin devoured by his relentless gaze. He studied every detail, every curve and secret of your figure, etching them into his memory.

"You might find this... somewhat audacious," you stammered, your gaze darting around the room, evading his intense stare, "But I've come across something in a book. And I have this... this urge to experience it."

Erik seemed to snap out of a daze, his brows furrowing in curiosity. "And what might that be?" he asked.

You dropped your gaze, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you attempted to muster the courage to voice your desires. "Are you familiar with... cunnilingus?"

A silence fell over the room. Erik appeared shell-shocked, his lips parting but no sound escaping as he tried to comprehend the salacious request that had just spilled from your lips. His experiences with carnal pleasures were extensive, more so after meeting you- he'd spent countless nights engrossed in books filled with varying degrees of erotica. He'd envisioned you and him as the characters, and his fantasies of caressing, embracing, and making passionate love to you had kept him awake many a night.

"Briefly, why?" He asked, his voice steady but his façade barely concealing the turmoil within.

"I want... I want you to do that to me," you managed to utter, swallowing down the embarrassment that threatened to choke you. "My betrothed, he... he wouldn't. I need to know, just once, what it feels like."

A dark shadow passed over his face at your words, the mention of the man you were intended to wed igniting something within him. His lips met your skin with a ferocity that stole your breath away. His body was pressed against yours, a desperate attempt to meld into one, to erase the space that separated you. His kisses trailed a scorching path from your neck downwards, each mark he left with his teeth due to the simmering anger that consumed him.

His hot breath teased against your core, creating a whirl of anticipation that caused your legs to twitch restlessly, your back to curl off the bed. An tingling sensation flowed from your core to the tips of your legs, prompting your thighs to instinctively tighten. He exerted his dominance, forcibly parting your legs to the sides, his chest pulsating with a primal pride as he observed the clear signs of arousal staining your underwear. The thin fabric did nothing to veil your desire for him.

His lips embarked on a deliberate exploration around your intimate area, strategically withholding the direct contact you craved, fueling a desperate need within you. He relished in your quiet pleas, in your desperation for him, for his touch. He wanted to hear it again - your voice, filled with longing, confessing your need for him, your love for him.

A few teasing kisses and feather-light licks over the fabric of your underwear were enough to reduce you to a state of complete disarray. Your head thrown back, lips parted in a silent plea, you begged, "Please, God, please."

He was relentless, persisting in his torturously slow pace and feather-light touches. He was prepared to play this drawn-out game; after all, he'd been fantasizing about moments like this since the dawn of his adolescence. He could wait an eternity if needed.

By the time he finally conceded, you were a whirlwind of emotion, eyes squeezed shut, body writhing as you grappled with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment, struggling to voice your feelings. You appeared as if you had been plucked straight out of a painting, your body seemingly sculpted by celestial forces, the ethereal glow on your skin from your sweat rendering you nothing short of angelic.

His fingers danced along the delicate straps of your underwear, tracing the curve of your hips as he meticulously slid them down your legs. Your underwear was discarded with an impatient kick. He admired how your lips glistened with your wetness, eyes wide and mouth agape as he inspected your parts. His cock felt like it was suffocating in it's tight confinement, begging to be released. He subconsciously rubbed himself against his quilt, hips driving him harder and harder into the fabric.

He didn't allow himself to spend an excessive amount of time simply staring, his fingers gingerly parting the folds of your intimate area as he gradually moved ever closer to the spot where you craved his touch the most. His tongue hesitantly emerged, like a tentative explorer venturing into uncharted territory, testing the waters as he gradually grew accustomed to your unique taste. It was an intoxicating, addictive flavour that he found himself drawn to, your evident arousal dissolving on his tongue like the sweetest candy. As he became more familiar with your body's reactions, his actions started to grow decidedly bolder, his initial cautiousness melting away.

The smooth, cold porcelain of the mask, right where his nose should have been, made direct contact with a particular spot on your body. It was a spot so sensitive, so responsive to his touch, that it turned you into a trembling, moaning mess. Each touch was like heaven, each movement a wave of pleasure that washed over you. It was a sensation you had never experienced before, and it left you weak, gasping for breath.

He pushed himself further into you, his movements becoming more desperate, more needy. His tongue, warm and insistent, ventured into every hidden corner it could find. It was as though he was trying to memorize you, to imprint the taste of you onto his very soul. He was consuming you, devouring you in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

The side of his face that wasn't hidden behind the mask was growing wetter with each passing moment. Each new wave of your arousal either swallowed by him or adding to the wet mess on his face. His eyes, dark and intense, never left your face, watching your every reaction, feeding off your pleasure.

With each passing moment, you found yourself teetering on the edge of exquisite pleasure, its intensity growing with a fervour that rendered you breathless. As cries of delight spilled from your lips, your fingers curled into the fabric of his bedsheets, clutching them with a strength that threatened to rip them to shreds. Now that you had experienced such ecstasy, you were unsure how you’d ever live without it again.

The pressure swelled within the depths of your abdomen, escalating dangerously as your eyes lost focus, surrendering willingly to Erik's touch. The burgeoning tension coiled within you like a heated serpent, until it could no longer be contained, compelling it to uncoil and release the pent-up passion that had been simmering within. Everything let go.

Erik's lips found your most sensitive spot again, sucking on it gently, coaxing a symphony of soft whimpers and quivering gasps from deep within your throat.

The intense sensations that flooded your body soon became far too much and left you with no other option but to gently, albeit reluctantly, push him away from your soaked cunt. His visible cheek and chin bore the shiny evidence of your pleasure, an erotic testament to the intimacy that had just transpired. His lips, swollen and red, were slightly parted as he laboured to catch his breath, the aftermath of your intense encounter leaving him just as breathless as you were.

He planted a single kiss on your thigh before he rose, drinking in the sinful sight of you lying beneath him. Your chest heaved, and the intimate area between your thighs was slick with a mixture of saliva and arousal, a mess he alone was responsible for. He was in disbelief at the sight before him - a woman who had pleaded for his touch, who had permitted him to venture into territory he was not meant to traverse.

You felt utterly winded, struggling to regain your breath as your mind remained in a dense fog. As you sat up, the ringing sensation of blood rushing in your ears was almost deafening. You gave him a once-over and let out a weary pout.

“Why am I naked and you are still dressed head to toe?” you playfully whined, clumsily rising up to fiddle with the buttons of his dress shirt.

A wave of panic washed over him. While a less sensitive subject than the removal of his mask, he was still hesitant about the concept of somebody seeing him disrobed. His hand swiftly intercepted yours, worried eyes looking directly into yours.

“We don’t have to do this,” you reminded him, “Removing clothes is quite necessary to engage in intercourse, so if that’s off the table, that is fine and we do not have to go any further.”

The looming threat of your sexual endeavours coming to a halt was so disconcerting that it pushed his fear of being seen nude into a corner of his mind. If you managed to bare all in front of him, then surely, he should be able to do the same. No horrifying disfigurement marred his body, save for a few scars and marks, which offered him a semblance of comfort amid his anxiety. Yet, it felt so extraordinarily odd - prior to you, people avoided him, disdaining him as a bizarre outcast to either laugh at or run away from. But you, you wanted to see him. You saw him.

With his consent, you delicately unfastened the buttons of his shirt, your fingers tracing the contours of his body as you gently slid it off along with his coat. The anticipation heightened as you unbuttoned his trousers, a sense of awe overtaking you as you noticed the visible sign of his desire pressing against the fabric of his underwear. With a slow, tantalizing motion, you slid his slacks down, pooling them around his ankles, leaving him to step out of them. The sight of him in such a state had your mouth watering, the subtle twitching under the thin fabric not going unnoticed. You glanced up, your eyes silently asking for permission before you proceeded to remove his last piece of clothing.

He was perfect - not too intimidating, yet not too modest. A balance that promised pleasure without the prospect of discomfort. A smile graced your lips as your hands were drawn to him, appreciating the prominent veins that adorned his underside and the swollen tip that seemed to crave the soothing touch of your lips. You didn’t have a second thought before you ducked down to take him into your mouth.

The moment that his length was enveloped by the soft, velvety embrace of your mouth, he felt an explosive sensation, as if he might shatter. The intoxicating blend of your warmth and the slippery wetness was an overwhelming sensory overload, causing his eyes to flutter closed as he savoured the sensation in its entirety. His low, primal groans amplified into a resonant hum of pleasure as you explored his length, your tender hand caressing the parts your lips had yet to discover.

You surfaced for air, drawing in a deep breath before giving him a seductive smile. Your hand continued to stroke him, maintaining the rhythm you'd established, "Have you heard of this one too? It's called fellatio. I've heard from men that it feels quite pleasurable, so I wanted to give it a try."

His brows knitted together in confusion and a hint of possessiveness, "Who's been talking to you about things like this?" he hissed, his fingers entangling in the roots of your hair. He didn't tug or pull, but simply let his hand rest there, grounding himself in the sensation of your touch.

“No one, I just overhear a lot,” you winked, a playful glint in your eyes.

Finding yourself drawn back to your prior task, you returned your mouth to its position, delicately licking around the sides and base of his manhood with a renewed vigour. You made a point to explore every contour, every ridge, leaving no part untouched by your careful ministrations. As you took him into your mouth once more, you hollowed your cheeks, creating a tight, welcoming space that made him gasp. You allowed your tongue to wander, tracing the map of protruding veins that decorated his length, making him shiver at your touch. You took your time, adjusting slowly but surely to accommodate his length.

Over time, you found a rhythm that was as steady as it was sensual, each movement drawing forth intoxicating sounds of pleasure from your lover. Your hand was rendered unnecessary, forgotten at your side as your face pressed closer, your nose brushing against the heat of his skin. The taste of him, the intimacy of the act, left you breathless, saliva slipping past your lips. The symphony of his escalating moans and guttural grunts echoed in your ears, signifying the mounting pleasure coursing through him.

Erik was teetering on the edge, every fibre of his being screaming for release. Time had lost all meaning; all he knew was the burning desire to break down your defences and claim you as his own. He tugged urgently at your hair, a silent plea for you to relinquish him from your mouth. His ego soared at the sight of your ravenous gaze and ragged breathing. Sweat was pooling uncomfortably beneath his mask, creating a stifling heat that was nearly unbearable. Yet, he would not — could not — remove it. For your love, he would endure any torment.

With a gentle persuasion, he coaxed you onto the plush solace of the bed, a wordless request to which you surrendered willingly. His fingers, rough yet tender in touch, traced the shape of your lips. You accepted them eagerly, lavishing them with a soft suckle until he withdrew them. Setting off on a slow, teasing journey, his fingers embarked on a path that danced across your lips, before descending the length of your neck. His touch was electrifying, a trail of shivers marking their progress.

His fingers continued their southern movement, drawn to the inviting warmth of your most intimate area. As he approached your yearning core, your breath hitched, a silent supplication mirrored in your eyes as you awaited his touch. He relished the anticipation, playfully circling the edge before carefully penetrating you with one of his fingers. The sensation of being filled by him was intoxicating, your eyes fluttering in sheer overwhelm as he moved in a rhythm that was leisurely and gentle. Every part of your being was tuned to his touch, each motion sending ripples of pleasure cascading through your body.

"Erik," you moaned, unaware of how you just moaning his name made his arms feel like jelly. He pushed through, eager to please and show you how good he could make you feel.

He cautiously inserted another finger, gradually stretching you out around his digits. He was utterly enchanted by the soft, plush feel of your walls, which seemed to welcome him in their embrace. He explored you curiously, his fingers gently probing, reaching deeper and deeper inside of you. It was like he was charting a course through a previously unexplored territory, each new discovery making him yearn for more.

The sounds that escaped your lips - cries of pleasure, of anticipation, of need - were music to his ears. The way your body responded to his touch, the way your breath hitched every time he moved, the way your fingers clung to him - everything about you made him feel weak with desire.

He didn't keep his fingers at work for very long, just enough time to make sure that you were adequately warmed up, ready for what would come next. With a simple gesture, he signalled for you to move further up the bed. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable, so he guided you to position your head against the plush softness of the pillows that lay strewn at the head of the bed.

His gaze was fixed on you, watching intently as you took the next step. Without needing any words, you communicated your agreement to what was about to unfold. You spat into your hand, a simple but intimate act, sitting up before carefully spreading the moisture over his length.

You allowed yourself to lay back down, your body welcoming the coolness of the sheets beneath you. Erik carefully positioned himself at your sopping wet entrance; his eyes, filled with a mix of anticipation and desire, locked onto yours as he began to push against you. You could feel his bulbous tip as it slowly pushed past your entrance, a sensation so new and unfamiliar that you couldn't help but squeal, your body jolting in response to the sudden intrusion. Erik's mouth hung open in a silent gasp, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt the first part of him slide inside you.

With a slow, cautious movement, he pressed forward further, sinking into you bit by bit, deeper and deeper until he was fully nestled within your warmth. Every inch of him was surrounded by you, his breath hitching once more as he adjusted to the velvety sensation.

For you, it was a fervent blaze, a primal burn that seared through every nerve. His manhood was a stark contrast to his previously tender touch, an unmerciful comparison that seemed impossible to reconcile. A soft whimper of pain broke free, a silent begging for him to pause his movements and allow your body to accommodate his invasion.

You lingered in the throes of this discomfort, each second diluting the initial shock and morphing it into a thrilling wave of bliss. It was a leisurely metamorphosis, a sultry dance between pain and pleasure, until all that was left was pure, unadulterated desire that left you gasping for air and craving more.

Once your body had succumbed to this new sensation, you gave him a silent nod of approval, a signal that he could resume. Erik let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, and his initial gentleness gave way to a carnal rhythm, each slow, deliberate thrust sending ripples of ecstasy that cascaded through your very being.

“So this is what it feels like,” you chuckled, less talking to Erik and more so thinking out loud.

Erik was so utterly focused on you and the indescribable sensations your body was offering him that he found himself unable to formulate an appropriate response. He was completely entranced by the way your intimate area, slick with your abundant arousal, enveloped him so thoroughly. He was lost in the feeling of you, engaged in an internal struggle between wanting to see the expressions of pure pleasure that danced across your face, or to look down and observe the erotic sight of his own manhood disappearing again and again into your inviting warmth.

He draped himself over you, his form a sanctuary, shielding you from the world beyond. His face nestled in the junction of your neck and shoulder, an alcove where he could inhale your scent. The cool porcelain of his mask contrasted with your heated skin, tempering the dew of perspiration that glossed your body. Underneath the mask, he endured the humid confinement - a necessary sacrifice for the exquisite torment he was bestowing upon you. Each powerful thrust sent ripples of ecstasy through you, rendering you breathless and dizzy with delight. The potent heat was all-encompassing, filling your consciousness with nothing but unadulterated, exquisite pleasure.

"I love you," you breathed out in a whisper, your voice dripping with desire. Each word was punctuated by a soft moan, the sound of it causing shivers to cascade down his spine, your hot breath against his ear igniting a fire within him.

As if his struggles weren't already overwhelming enough, your words seemed to only add more fuel to the already blazing fire within him. It was as though every syllable you uttered stoked the flames, pushing him further into a realm of passion he had never known before. His arm, strong and certain, forced its way behind your back, pulling you up to hold you close to him. It was a closeness that was almost palpable, almost too much, as he thrusted inside of you.

“I love you too,” he groaned, his words saturated with an intense, raw emotion that welled up in his eyes, the tears threatening to cascade down his face in an uncontrolled torrent of feeling.

You, on the other hand, were no better off, your own tears of sheer joy and devastating heartbreak pooling in your eyes until they were beyond their capacity to hold back any longer. They overflowed, running down your face like precious diamonds, a display of the depth of your misery. Making love to somebody who genuinely loved you back was a concept so beautifully simple, yet tragically forbidden. It was an experience that brimmed with a love so deep, a care so nurturing, and a passion and compassion so profound that it was unparalleled.

You knew you would never encounter such a feeling again in your lifetime. You were merely attempting to stave off the inevitable end, attempting to shield yourself from the stark reality that awaited your return to the surface world. Each moment was a battle against the clock, each second a desperate attempt to extend the blissful ignorance of the impending conclusion.

In that moment, you belonged to him and he to you, your bodies intertwined and connected as the flames consumed you both. You held onto him with a desperation that mirrored your own, your arms wrapping around him, hugging him close. You were a lifeline to each other, two beings lost in a sea of passion and desire, holding on to the only solid thing in a world that was spinning out of control.

With every pulsating sensation, you tried desperately to prevent the impending climax that was steadily building within you. You wrestled against it, mustering all of the strength and willpower you possessed. You didn’t want this magical night, this passion and desire, to end. The thought of the experience drawing to a close was unbearable, and yet there was nothing you could to do stop the familiar building pressure in your abdomen.

And you knew, in the deepest recesses of your mind, that you shouldn't have given in to the temptation- that you should have exercised restraint and kept your wandering hands to yourself. Despite this, you were a prisoner to your own overwhelming curiosity, a force so powerful it threatened to consume you whole.

The haze of pleasure Erik was weaving around you kept intensifying, it ebbed and flowed into every crevice of your consciousness, distorting the boundary between the tangible world and the intoxicating euphoria you found yourself spiralling into. Your hands, as though guided by an insatiable yearning that was wholly their own, found their way to the mask that resided on his head.

Your fingers, trembling with anticipation and anxiety, began to play with the thin string keeping the mask firmly in place, protecting his true form. The tension in your body was mounting, your anxiety and the impending orgasm that threatened to shatter your very being reaching the same intense peak.

The familiar ball of pleasure that had been steadily growing within you finally burst, sending shockwaves of pure ecstasy coursing through your veins. You could feel Erik's hot semen spurt inside you, marking you as his. As the intense waves of your climax washed over you, you summoned the last of your strength and ripped the mask off his face, revealing the man beneath.

You had comprehended the profound severity of Erik's disfigurement when he confessed that he had been residing here since his tender youth. Why else would somebody feel so compelled to withdraw from society? You had determined then, with unyielding resolve, to love him irrespective of his appearance. Your conviction remained unwavering as his visage came sharply into view. His eyes, dilated with raw fear, his mouth trembling on the verge of speech, and his hands, once securely encircling you, now trembled and twitched uncontrollably.

A sigh escaped you, a bright smile lighting up your face as you gazed at him dreamily. You leaned in, your hand tenderly cradling the side of his face which had remained disfigured and concealed until this moment. Tears which had been threatening to spill from his eyes now fell freely, and your own followed suit as the realization of parting hit you.

With a gentleness that belied the depth of your feelings, your fingers traced the lines of his marked skin. Your lips had found his in a passionate kiss, the tears that slid silently down your cheeks mingled with his, a silent symbol of the connection of your souls, a joining so profound that words failed to capture its essence.

With reluctance, you pulled away from the warmth of his body, rising slowly from where you were entwined with him. You wiped your tears away. A wince crossed your face as you felt Erik's softening length slip out of you, the sensation of his release dripping out of you, serving as a lingering reminder of the intimacy you had shared.

"Do you not take issue with that you see?" His voice was laced with an unnerving intensity, his eyes never leaving your form as you searched for your scattered garments. You assumed his weird behaviour was due to his feelings about your impending departure.

"Not when it's you," you confessed, a poignant smile pulling tragically at the corner of your lips, laden with unspoken emotions.

It didn't take long for you to find your garments. You fastened the corset around your waist, making sure it properly supported your bosom. Despite pulling the laces tightly, you found that you needed additional help. Each time you tried to tie the laces, the corset loosened.

"Could you lace this up for me, Erik? I'm struggling," you chuckled, turning back round to find that he had already put his underwear back on. "Corsets are tricky things. I often need someone else's help to put it on and take it off."

"You don't need it," he declared, his face a stoic mask, eyes unblinking and filled with unwavering resolve.

You hesitated, uncertain of how to respond or process his words. You thought he might not understand the full purpose of your undergarment. "I can't be amongst with people without wearing my corset. It's indecent. Without it, people could see my breasts," you said.

"And that's precisely why you don't require it," he shot back, his hardened face rigid with confrontation, eyes locked onto you as you blinked, wrestling with the weight of his words. "You aren't going anywhere."

"What? Erik, I have to leave," you leaped towards him, a wave of dread washing over you as he remained unaffected, "My father wields a lot of power and influence, a fact you're well aware of. Search parties will be dispatched and they'll hunt us down."

Erik's laughter echoed ominously around you, his jarring mirth only amplifying your unease, "He will not pose a threat, my dear. Act as though he doesn’t exist."

"How can you be so sure?" You shot back, eyes narrowing into slits as you regarded him with deep-rooted suspicion.

"Because he won't live to witness the week's end, fortunate if he survives the night," he sneered.

You were petrified, frozen in terror. The uncertain veracity of his words hung heavy in the air, but the fury etched in his gaze was unmistakable. It was a chilling declaration that bulldozed your defences, sending frigid lashes of fear snaking through your bloodstream.

“No, no,” you whispered, face twisted in dread.

"You said it yourself!" he yelled, seemingly unaffected by your flinch. You lifted your hands, ready to protect yourself if needed, but you knew that if he truly wanted to hurt you, you had no chance. "He was the one who tried to separate us, to spoil our love! How can I let him manipulate destiny? It's a sin!"

"Sin or not, he is my father!" you retorted, tearing off your corset and swiftly pulling your dress over your head. You let it fall over your figure. "I have to go."

“You forget yourself,” Erik's voice echoed ominously from the shadows, untouched by your retreat. “Was it not you pleading for me to awaken your senses to the touch of a genuine lover? Were you not weeping to me over the wreckage your father's deeds would cause in your life? Does Monsieur Beaumont need to be added to the list? Is that what you desire? I am merely aiding you!”

Trying to block out his taunting, you jammed your underwear down your bodice and clung to your corset like a lifeline. Panic was on the verge of consuming you, your thoughts spiralling out of control, too swift and chaotic to grasp. The realization of your own foolishness hit you like a punch, a bitter and unforgiving truth.

In your hour of fragility, you had sought solace in the one individual you deemed a sanctuary, a cure to your torments. But he, like a concealed predator, exploited your vulnerability, shrouding his true motives to feast upon your innocence and cast you into never ending isolation. The dread lay not in his visage, but in his very being, a monstrous revelation.

“Even if you escape, your father cannot. He has to pay for what he's done,” he hissed, his voice becoming a menacing whisper, fading into the background as you distanced yourself.

You were approaching the familiar boat, stepping carefully over the wooden structure. You untied the rope and with the paddle in hand, you prepared to set off on your journey.

CLINK, SLAM.

You froze.

“Besides the fact that you have no idea where you’d be going around the sewers and passageways and would probably end up fatally mutilated in one of my many traps,” he spoke once more, trailing off as he watched the light leave your eyes, “You don’t know how to open the gate. Unfortunate.”

What had you done?

any feedback is appreciated! sorry it ended there, i started writing this at 12pm and it's now 5:21am the day later. i have not had a break. it had to end.

[lialacleaf]

To Care For A Woman

Chapter 2

Simon Riley X Reader

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not...

Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception, I'm sorry it's unedited...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Reader POV

You were swimming in a deep pool of black, waves of some syrupy feeling caressing your mind, interrupted by the occasional pinch or sting. You felt the black ebbing away, replaced by the metallic smell of blood and the sting of bright lights in your eyes. You let out a sharp whine as the pinch became an agonizing, burning pain in your left knee.

A choked sob followed as you slowly regained your awareness. You were laying in a hospital bed, and a medic was carefully redressing your injured leg.

“Where’s Lieutenant Ghost?” You asked, remembering how he’d been shot down aiding you in your escape.

“Busy. Said he’d come by once you were awake to deliver the news.”

Your brow furrowed. The news? What could that possibly mean? You couldn’t be in trouble for the mission having gone bad. Your lip trembled as the medic finished their work and left.

Maybe Ghost had been right to leave you out of missions before. The pain in your leg was agonizing, and you wanted to curl into a ball and cry. You were all alone in a place you didn’t belong, and you were suffering, but all you could feel was anger at yourself. Anger that you just weren't good enough for the job.

A small part of you wanted to call home, but you couldn’t bare the thought of putting anymore stress on your parent’s shoulders.

You felt helpless, more so than usual, and you couldn’t stop the shaking in your hands. A knock sounded, drawing a shaky gasp from you lips.

You felt you shoulders tremble as the imposing figure of your Lieutenant quietly slipped into the room.

Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, his muscles straining against the black sweatshirt he wore. He simply stared at you through the holes in his mask, not saying a word.

You felt a shudder run down your spine as he took a step closer, holding out a tan folder to you.

“What’s this?” You asked, your hands trembling as you reached for it.

“Your discharge paperwork,” he answered curtly.

“From the hospital?” You asked, your voice wavering.

“From the 141.”

Your stomach dropped. “No,” you pleaded, voice wavering. “No, Ghost…please, no,” you begged, fighting back the tears threatening to run down your cheeks and expose the turmoil of your heart.

“This isn’t up for discussion,” he said sternly as you opened the file. “Have it signed by the end of the day-“

“It wasn’t my fault!” you interrupted, your lip quivering. “I did everything right! Please, you can’t do this to me.”

“This isn’t about the mission,” he stated gruffly. “This is about your injuries. You’ll be lucky to walk on that leg again. You’re unfit for duty.” His eyes bore into you with an intensity that made you shudder.

“You don’t understand, I don’t have anywhere to go. I can do other things, work in the office, do paperwork-“

“I’ve already spoken with Price. You don’t have high enough clearance for that,” he stated softly. He knew this wasn’t going to be easy for you. You both did. You were just a rookie. You’re pension would be little to nothing, and your injury would make it even harder for you to find a way to support yourself.

Ghost watched carefully as you took a shallow breath, a few stray tears sliding down your cheeks. “Are you happy now?” You asked with a thick swallow. “I know you didn’t want me here in the first place,” you accused.

It didn’t matter that you had saved his life, and quite possibly sacrificed any quality your own would have had otherwise. “You should have just left me there,” you whispered, and Ghost stiffened.

Silence hung in the air and your throat burned as you tried not to burst into tears.

“I’ll work somethin’ out for you,” he said gruffly, as if he was uncomfortable making you such a promise.

“You said Price made his decision-“

“I’ll work somethin’ else out,” he clarified. “Get those papers signed,” he said, turning on his heel and leaving you to shake your head and quietly sob into you hand.

~

Simon’s POV

He couldn’t watch you cry. The idea of your little sobs took him right back to that night that he thought he was going to watch you bleed out on the way to the hospital.

He’d considered yelling at you for what you had done, but then his mother’s frightened face flashed in his mind, and his stomach dropped. He didn’t want to be his father, didn’t want to be the man that made a helpless woman cry or feel fear from his presence. He wanted to make sure you never had to cry ever again, and he was about to do everything in his power to make sure you were safe and sound.

“You’re bloody mad, Simon,” Johnny said as he looked at the piece of paper he’d had prepared that afternoon. “Hope it works out.”

He hoped so too. More than he was willing to verbally admit to the Scotsman.

If you didn’t agree to it, there was nothing more he could do to help you. But he wasn’t going to let you just slip through his fingers without trying.

Reader’s POV

You cried for every medic that walked into your room, despite telling yourself over and over again that you wouldn’t. Something about watching them tend to your leg made the situation too real.

It was lonely in the hospital room, and the hum of the air conditioner was starting to give you a headache. Or maybe that was from all the crying you’d done.

A small part of you was scolding yourself for wasting time being emotional when what you really needed to be doing was making a plan. You needed to figure out your next steps before the hospital politely kicked you off base.

You couldn’t even walk, and there would be no one to care for you during your recovery. How the hell were you supposed to survive?

He didn’t even knock before entering, and you were quick to wipe your checks as Ghost approached your bed at a steady pace, another damn tan folder in his hands.

“More bad news?” You asked bitterly.

He let out a deep chuckle in response. “Depends on how you look at it.” His accent was thick, and you couldn’t help but catch the tinge of nervousness in his voice. It had to be bad for Ghost to be rattled.

“I’ve got a…friend, and he’s willing to help you out.”

He placed the folder gently in your lap and flipped it open. You felt your chest tighten and your eyes narrowed in confusion.

A marriage certificate. It was a marriage certificate with your name on it. “What is this?” you asked.

“A way out.”

“Really?” you asked incredulously. “Cause it seems like a nasty joke! Who the hell even is Simon Riley?”

“Does it matter? He’s agreed to take care of you,” Ghost muttered.

Indeed he had. His portion of the certificate was signed and dated. “In return for what?” You asked bitterly, voice thick with emotion.

Ghost clicked his tongue softly and sighed. “I wouldn’t send you somewhere potentially unsafe,” he assured you, brown eyes boring into you as he tilted his head to the side.

“I have a feeling you’d send me anywhere if it meant you never had to see me again.”

You could tell he was frowning at you under that mask, and you swallowed thickly. He’d never exactly been kind to you, but not unkind either. He’d simply excluded you, making it harder to have anyone on your side.

“You got another option I don’t know about?” He asked, holding a ballpoint pen out to you expectantly.

You stared at the object for a moment, feeling your lip begin to quiver again. No. Not in front of him. You snatched the pen from his grasp and hastily scribbled your name down, sucking in a deep breath as you did so.

“Atta’ girl,” he praised, patting you on the shoulder. You handed him the paperwork without meeting his gaze. He must have thought you to be a sell-out, that you were pathetic. Maybe you were. You just hoped you hadn’t made a terrible mistake with this Simon Riley.

AN: well, well, well. I hope you’re all on the edge of your seats! Thank you to everyone that has been interacting so far, I can’t explain how much that means to me! Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed from the tag list! Thank You!

Tag list: @warenai @livynicole @ghostlythots @hilowhiho @mrmountainman @miamia89 @shiraya92 @crocodilefeet2707

@zzariyahchan @gaida-511 @misshoneypaper @soldierlass @dazaiscum @mockerycrow @kaysav608 @classygardencroissantcolor @innerskylover @kristalhi @hotaruteba @tzutology @sushiumex @l3xiluve @immajustlikeok

@iplayghoul @linoskitten11 @zollaris @whore-for-anime @migeuloharaslxt @blog-luvdance @embermdk @buttercupmuffins

Gosh, I think that's everyone. I think some of y'all have settings that didn't allow me to tag you so I apologize if you don't get a notification. I did my best. Also, my dyslexia had a helluva time with some of the names XD Love you guys! Thanks again for your support! <3

[naviiq]

7#-> 💌: a letter has arrived from satoru gojo.

dear y/n,

pretty abrupt.. if this gets through, if you're not bawling your pretty little eyes out then i am dead. i know it's a little sudden to start this letter off but.. i don't wanna sugarcoat it because i know it’s going to hurt you more than i can even imagine. i didn’t want it to end like this, not like this, but here we are. and honestly, after everything, i think i’m okay with it.

i don’t want you to feel anger right now. i don’t want you to feel regret. this isn’t your fault. if there’s anyone to blame, it’s me. it’s always been me. i knew the risks, i knew what i was up against, but i kept pushing forward. i know this isn’t how you’d want to hear it. i know you’re going to hate me for leaving you with nothing but these words. this letter is all i have left to give you. i know it won’t make up for anything. but i’m trying, in the only way i know how. if there’s any justice in this world, you’ll get it. for me, for us. and maybe, just maybe, it’ll be enough to make things right again.

i think about what could’ve been. what we could’ve had. you and me. together. free from all of this. i’d take you away, y/n, if i could. to somewhere safe, somewhere quiet. no more curses, no more fighting, no more deaths. just us, finally living a life without the weight of the world on our shoulders. but it’s not going to happen, is it? the way things are, the way the world works, it was always a dream. too big. too much. something even i wasn’t able to achieve.

but.. y/n, it’s strange. the moment i saw my own blood, the moment i knew this was it, i realized something. for all the years i’ve spent knowing to be invincible, the one thing i never considered was the idea of you. of you being the one who’d have to pick up the pieces. of you carrying the weight of everything i couldn’t save. and i need you to know this isn’t your burden to bear.

i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. i really am, you were the most wonderful partner i could ever be with.

if i could have stayed, i would’ve. you know that. but that’s not how it ended. i want you to live. i want you to find a way to be happy again. i don’t care how long it takes, or how hard it is. i want you to find that peace, even if i’m not there to see it.

you deserve justice for everything. for the pain, for the loss, for the rage you’ll feel when you read these words and realize you won’t ever get another chance to hold me again. i don’t know if this world will ever be just. i don’t know if they’ll ever pay for what they did to us. but i trust you to do what needs to be done. you always were the better one, even if you didn’t know it. just don’t lose yourself. that’s all i ask of you.

this letter is all i have left to give you. and i know it won’t make up for anything. i wish i could say more. i wish i could say goodbye in a way that wouldn’t leave you crying. i wish i could be there to hold you, to kiss you, to tell you that i love you one more time. but this is all i have left. these words. and maybe, just maybe, they’ll be enough to make sure you know how much i loved you, though i understand that’ll be unlikely. but i hope that, one day, you’ll read this and know that i loved you. that i will always love you.

listen, i know you’re going to fight. i know that rage is going to take over you— the same rage that’s been inside me during this time. but please, please don’t let it consume you. don’t let it make you lose yourself. i don’t want you to become someone else because of me. i don’t want you to walk down the same path that i did, believing that the only way to get justice is through bloodshed. you’re better than that. you always were.

this is it. there’s a part of me that wishes i could have done more, that wishes i could have fought harder, that wishes i could have come up with some plan, some way to get us both out of this hellhole of a world. but i’m done pretending. i’m done trying to outsmart fate.

i know what’s coming, y/n. and i’ve made peace with it. maybe it’s because i’ve been facing the inevitable for so long that it’s not as terrifying as it should be. but that doesn’t mean i’m not afraid. i’m afraid of leaving you behind. i’m afraid of not being able to make things right. i’m afraid of knowing that you’ll have to live without me.

i’m sorry. i’m sorry i couldn’t be there for you. i’m sorry that this world took me from you. but i want you to keep going. for me. for us. please, y/n. keep living. for me. for us. find a way to heal. find a way to move forward. i won’t be there to help you. i won’t be there to hold your hand, but i’ll always be with you in the pieces of your heart. i’ll always be there, just like i promised.

i know how this sounds. i know how it feels to read words on a page that won’t ever bring me back, and that’s the hardest thing about this. i’m writing this to you, and it’s just a letter. it’s all i have. but i need you to understand that you have so much more than this. you have everything you need to keep going.

i’m so fucking sorry. forgive me, please. forgive me for leaving you like this, for doing this to you. i never wanted to hurt you. i never wanted to put you through any of this. but here we are. and now, this is the reality we’re facing. i know it’s not fair. nothing about this is.

i wish i could’ve seen your smile once more. it’s imprinted in my brain, like a photo i can’t shake, but no matter how hard i try, it’s never enough. every time i close my eyes, i can still picture it— that soft, cute smile that always makes everything feel okay. you have no idea how much it means to me, y/n. that smile, that light, it was the one thing i could hold onto when everything around me seemed dark. i’ve spent so much of my life chasing after something, trying to make a difference. but in the end, it was you. your smile. your warmth. that was the real answer, the thing that kept me grounded. and now, knowing i’ll never see it again, it’s like a part of me is missing. i’ll carry it with me, but it's not the same. i want to hold onto that memory forever, but i can’t shake the feeling that it’s slipping away. and that hurts more than i can put into words.

goodness, i’m tearing up, how silly. ironic.

there’s so much i love about you. it’s impossible to list it all, but if i could, i would tell you about the way your eyes light up when you laugh, how it’s like the whole world falls away and nothing else matters. i love the way you’re always thinking of others, even when you’re carrying your own weight. you never asked for the world to be this way, and yet, you still choose to fight. i love how you challenge me, how you make me want to be better, even when i thought i was already everything i could be. but more than that, i love how you loved me. even when i was too reckless, too wild, too lost. when i couldn’t even love myself fully, you made me believe that i was worth something.

you made me feel like i was home. i don’t think i’ve ever truly felt like i belonged after suguru, somewhere until i met you. with you, i could finally breathe. i could finally let my guard down. there’s something about the way you hold me, like everything’s going to be okay, even when it’s not. i’ll carry that feeling with me, y/n, even as i’m fading away. it’s the only thing that gives me peace right now.

but damn, it hurts knowing i’ll never get to hold you like that again, to hear your voice call my name, to feel your hand in mine. the world’s going to keep turning, and i won’t be there for you when you need me most. and that breaks me more than anything. but if you can, if you can find a way to move on, just know that i’ll always be in your heart. always. even if it feels like i’m gone, know that a part of me will always be with you. it’s just the part of me that loves you most.

i’m sorry for not being there. when i wasn’t there for the quiet moments, the ones that mattered most. and now, all i have is this— these words, these apologies, and a lifetime of regret i won’t get to undo. i’m sorry for the pain i caused you, for all the times i didn’t

show up when i promised i would. i’m sorry i made you feel alone in the one thing that should’ve brought us together. at least our last conversation we had wasn’t a big fight. i’m glad for that. but i’m also sad that will be our last.

but hey, i'm gonna die with a smile. not because it's easy, obviously, but because i'm okay with it, because for a second, just for a second, i had something real. something worth fighting for. we had our good moments, right? those little pieces of time where everything felt right, when it was just you and me against the world. i wouldn't trade that for anything. so yeah, i’m smiling, even now, because i got to love you. even if it’s only for a moment, it’s more than some people ever get. and that’s enough for me.

goodbye, my sweetheart. don’t forget me.

i love you.

from, satoru gojo.

p.s. i love you. more than i’ll ever be able to put into words. and in the end, that’s all i really have to give you. my love. always and forever.

[glutengoblin]

Guilty As Sin, Sebastian Sallow X Reader (Part 2)

A/N: Writing part 2 has honestly been the most difficult writing challenge I've had yet. Unfortunately, I had a lot of writer's block and a lot of challenges in my personal life recently. I'm so thankful for all the love that part 1 received, and I wanted to do right by you and write a good part 2. I hope that y'all love part 2 (And the inevitable part 3 👀) just as much!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Thank you again for all the love.

(She/her pronouns, house neutral)

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Some 18+ Content

Disclaimer: I am not Taylor Swift and therefore do not own the rights to "Guilty As Sin"

The light flowing through the stained glass windows overhead finally awoke Y/N from her deep slumber. As she began to stir, she quickly noticed the presence of another body, slumped in the chair next to her bed.

Sebastian was asleep, his head lolled forward towards his lap. His hair was quite messy, though that was typical for the Slytherin. It was the tears in his robe that worried her more. Dirt caked onto his shirt and his normally pristine boots were coated in mud - whatever happened, certainly had been rough.

Y/N truly didn’t have many memories of what happened last night, hinting to the fact that she probably hit her head harder than she originally assumed. All her mind could pull from the fog was flashes of a fight; a puffskin in a cage, dueling a couple of poachers, an Ashwinder appearing. Truly, she was unsure how it had gone so poorly; she had never lost a fight so terribly before. She was surprised her ancient magic didn't take over at some point, as normally was the instinct.

She shifted again to take a better look at Sebastian, as if his slumbering form might provide some clue as to the events that led her here. How he even found her, she was unsure. But his hand was resting beside her pillow, as if he wanted to touch her but couldn’t bring himself to. That told her all she needed to know. Sebastian had saved her.

Hesitantly, Y/N reached out to nudge his hand. Sebastian startled awake, his panicked eyes instantaneously traveling over her form, as if he still didn’t believe that she was okay. He blinked a few times, seemingly realizing where they were. His form relaxed, as he moved to grip her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I… I thought you may have died.” He stated, matter of fact, his molten brown eyes staring into hers’. Y/N felt her heart flutter, both at the sudden contact and concern. She took a breath, staring down at the connection point their hands provided before responding.

“I’m assuming it was you who saved me, Sebastian. I… thank you.” When that didn’t rid his face of the worry that consumed it, Y/N knew that he would likely demand an explanation - one which she was unsure she could give him.

“I’m not going to ask.” He said plainly, surprising Y/N. “I know you were probably upset. You used to do that a lot during fifth year.” A sad smile took over his face, as she noticed the red that rimmed his eyes. It looked as if he had been crying. He reached up to brush a stray strand of her behind her ear. Y/N shivered at the touch, the heat of his fingers brushing against her forehead. “I just wish that you would take me with you, like you used to.” He looked down at his lap, letting out an audible sigh. “I’m just glad I made it in time.” His voice broke slightly, as if he feared stating it out loud might make it come true. “I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you.”

Y/N felt a small part of her die at the fact she had worried Sebastian so much. Before she could process what she was doing, she reached for his hand again, interlacing her fingers with his. He clung to that connection as if it was the only thing keeping him from crying. A few moments later, Y/N decided that while this wasn’t the ideal time, perhaps it was better than nothing. Perhaps almost dying had been a sign that maybe, just maybe she needed to take a risk before something happened to her, or worse, to him. She sat up, nerves tugging at her voice as she tried to admit what she had been avoiding for weeks.

“Sebastian… I, we… We need to talk. Ever since we’ve started sending letters again, I’ve found myself-” Both of the students stiffened when a new voice interrupted their momentary isolation. Poppy ran into the hospital wing, looking out of breath when she stopped at the foot of Y/N’s bed.

“Y/N! You’re okay! I was so worri-” Her words trailed off as she suddenly realized who sat next to her. Sebastian at least had the sense to drop Y/N’s hand before Poppy came into view, though Poppy’s uncharacteristic scowl still told them everything they needed to know about what she thought of Sebastian being here.

“Sallow.”

“Sweeting.”

“Why exactly are you here? Did you have something to do with Y/N ending up here?” The vitriol dripping from her voice told Y/N that she wouldn’t believe the truth of the matter, even if he explained. “Seems to be a pattern, her always getting hurt whenever you’re around.”

Her friends had constructed him as the villain in her story, without any input from her. Without any regard to the fact that Y/N never considered him a villain; she only ever viewed him as her friend. And now, perhaps something more.

With the awkward silence that hung in the air, Sebastian seemed to catch on that any response was futile. As much as it seemed to pain him, he stood, taking one last look at Y/N. “I hope you feel better soon.” He whispered, before moving past Poppy and out of Y/N’s view. She traced the sound of his footsteps down the hall, longing for nothing more than to follow them.

Once Sebastian had fully disappeared, Poppy dared to speak once again. “Y/N, are you okay? What happened last night? We heard a rumor that you were in the hospital wing. Natty and I ran up here, but Nurse Blainey only let me in. Something about only being able to have two visitors.” Poppy moved to sit on the edge of the bed, taking her friend’s hand in her palm. Her eyes searched her face, looking for any signs of what could be amiss. “Did Sebastian do something to you?” Y/N recoiled at the question, a look of confusion overtaking her features.

“What? No! Poppy, Sebastian didn’t do anything to hurt me. In fact, quite the opposite. He saved me. The poachers I was dueling certainly would have captured me, or worse.” Her head dropped at the notion. “Sebastian is the reason I’m alive right now.”

Poppy’s eyes narrowed slightly, as she studied the red line that marred her friend’s forehead. “How do you know that for sure Y/N? What if he’s lying to you, what if he orchestrated something.” Y/N shook her head, practically wanting to laugh at the notion of Sebastian ever knowingly trying to hurt her.

“You don’t know him like I do, Poppy.” Her friend grumbled, shaking her head.

“I don’t think I want to.” The two friends stared at each other. Y/N had never felt further discounted from Poppy as she did in that very moment. Despite everything they had been through. Poppy still couldn’t take Y/N’s word on this. The thought pained her in a way somehow worse than a simple betrayal would.

Y/N was thankfully saved from further argument when Nurse Blainey reappeared and shooed Poppy away. She let out a single breath of relief, before Nurse Blainey examined her injuries again and informed her that she thought it was best if she remained in the hospital wing overnight

Reluctantly, Y/N agreed. She spent the rest of the day sleeping off the weariness from the duel that went so horribly wrong.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

When Y/N came to again, she was surprised to find the hazy blue light of dawn filtering in through the stained glass windows. She hadn’t slept that long, had she?

She sat up, pushing back the hair that had made its way into her mouth while she slept. A glance around revealed she truly had slept that long, along with the cause. A small bottle of a dreamless sleeping draught sat at the small table next to her beside, completely empty. Nurse Blainey likely dropped it off at some point the day before.

When she pulled the sheets back and stood up, she was surprised to find that her legs supported her weight. She was expecting to be quite sore after the events of the night before, so it was nice to find that she felt rather normal.

She made her way towards the front of the hospital wing, doing her best to be quiet and ensure that she didn’t awaken the couple of other students who were sleeping in soundly. She found Nurse Blainey at her desk, her large quill flaring out as she filled out some paperwork.

With a quiet whisper, Y/N tried to get her attention. “Good morning Nurse Blainey. I’m feeling much better. Do you think it would be alright if I head back to my own common room?”

Nurse Blainey seemed a bit startled at her presence, but her form quickly relaxed once she realized who it was. “Ah, Y/N, I’m glad to see that you’re feeling better.” Her eyes passed over her form, observing for any signs that she was still injured. Nurse Blainey pursed her lips, before letting out a soft sigh. “I suppose it would be alright, but I do expect you to come later in the day for a further examination.

Y/N gave her thanks and then walked back to the bed she occupied to collect her things. She quickly gathered her coat and clothes which she had been wearing during the duel, but they were quite muddy and ripped in some places. She sighed in disappointment, knowing she’d have to visit Gladrag’s to see if he could repair them.

When Y/N made it back to her dorm room, she was a bit disappointed to see that there was no letter waiting for her on her desk. She placed her muddied clothes under her bed, and pulled new ones from her closet. She grabbed her things and headed to the common room. That seemed to be the best place for her at the moment, since she was certain that she couldn’t fall asleep again, and she didn’t want to risk waking up her roommates.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

After a surprisingly productive morning, Y/N found herself sitting in beasts class a few hours later. She was starting to regret not choosing to get more sleep, as the world had that disturbingly too bright quality. She sunk a bit more into her seat, trying to guide her attention back towards the board, as it kept slipping in the direction of a certain Slytherin.

Sebastian sat a few tables away, his quill scratching notes onto his parchment. Y/N noticed then that he looked distinctly more ruffled than usual. Though Sebastian always did have creased robes and tousled hair, this was different. If Y/N could have sworn that he looked like he hadn’t slept the past couple of nights, given the dark bags that hung below his eyes.

Y/N hardly noticed the fact that Poppy, who sat besides her at the same table, seemed nervous. Her leg was bouncing up and down beneath their table, as she studied Y/N.

Poppy was very worried about her friend. Between going into a poacher camp alone and the sudden chumminess with Sebastian again, Poppy couldn’t help but feel anxiety butterfly in her stomach. She studied Y/N as she stared at Sebastian, noticing how her eyes didn’t seem to leave his form. It was so unlike her to not pay attention in a class, especially one she enjoyed such as beasts.

Poppy elbowed her friend gently. Y/N jumped in her seat slightly, turning suddenly to look at Poppy. A blush grew on Y/N’s cheeks as she noticed the critical glint in Poppy’s eyes. She looked down at her parchment, picking up her quill to scratch down more notes she had missed.

When the class was finally broken up into partners, and Poppy and Y/N end up working side by side on brushing out some Jobberknolls. Poppy decided to break the silence.

“Y/N, I’m worried about you,” She started, and decided to continue before Y/N could cut her off. “What happened really happened the other night? And why is Sebastian suddenly hanging out around you again? I don’t want the story you gave me in the hospital wing. I know that’s not the full truth.” Y/N startled slightly, before looking down at her shoes, suddenly finding them quite intriguing. Eventually, she broke the silence, a quiet shake to her voice.

“Like I said early Poppy, I just made a bad decision. That was all. I was tired and over-estimated what I could handle.” Y/N paused for a moment, before adding, “thankfully Sebastian was there to save me when things took a turn for the worse.” Poppy frowned at that, making Y/N suddenly regret arguing with her again on the matter.

“Like I said yesterday, why exactly was he even in the position to save you? Was he following you or something?” Y/N let out another frustrated sigh, because if she was being honest, she was wondering the same thing. “I don’t know. I haven’t gotten a chance to discuss it with him yet.” Poppy bristled more, her frown turning deeper. “I don’t think that’s a good idea Y/N. You should just stay away from him. He seems to be nothing but trouble.”

Y/N’s heart ached slightly as she feigned agreement and turned back to the jobberknolls. Perhaps it was for the best if she avoided Sebastian. Given the fact that the feelings that had begun to bloom in her chest hadn’t taken deeper root, she was starting to be unsure of how much more of the distance she could stand. Having him, only in letters, was beginning to eat away at her patience. Perhaps it was better to cut everything off now, before it had the chance to grow into something more.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

A week later, Y/N was beginning to feel as if she was going crazy. Perhaps she was wrong about wanting to cut things off cold turkey. By the time classes were over that first day, she was scrambling to write him a letter in her dorm, asking what happened. She didn’t receive a response, much to her disappointment, she sent him another one a couple days later. She was beginning to feel herself grow desperate. Just as much as Poppy wanted to know, Y/N was also curious why Sebastian had saved her. She also wanted to thank him properly, in person, face to face. If it wasn’t for him, Y/N most likely wouldn’t be standing here any longer.

When Friday came around and Sebastian still hadn’t responded, Y/N began to grow deeply worried. Sebastian was in classes; for all she knew, he was perfectly fine, minus the signs of sleep deprivation that still lingered around him. But he was laughing, chatting in his generally sociable way. Y/N felt it being harder to tear her eyes away from him whenever she found herself in his general vicinity. It was as if she was a compass and he was her due north.

In all her observation of him, Y/N had also noticed that Ominis and Sebastian had begun to speak to each other again. They now sat side by side at the Slytherin table at every meal, as if nothing had changed from fifth year. Y/N considered if she should ask Ominis about the development, but out of concern that he would then question her on why she had lied about her contact with him early, she let the question go unasked.

When Natty approached Y/N at dinner on Friday, asking if she wanted to accompany the usual suspects to Hogsmeade that evening, she desperately wanted to say no. But in an effort to appease her friends into thinking everything was normal, Y/N reluctantly said yes.

After lingering around the library for a bit, Y/N decided it was time to get ready to go. She opted for a sweater, trousers, and coat to hopefully combat the chill that continued to set over the Scottish highlands. If she put too much thought into it, she may have determined that the emerald green sweater she chose easily was because of Sebastian. A few weeks ago, he had mentioned it was his favorite color, as an aside in one of his letters. Leaving her hair down and makeup simple seemed the right choice and before she knew it, Y/N found herself crossing the bridge in Hogsmeade.

When she opened the door to the Three Broomsticks, she was unsurprised to find the place packed to the brim. It was typical of a cold Friday night, with many patrons deciding that a hot butterbeer was the best course of action. Y/N surveyed the space, offering a quick wave to Sirona before her eyes landed on her friends. They were tucked in their typical back corner table, already chatting jovially.

Y/N sat down at the end of the table next to Garreth, offering the most enthusiastic greeting she could to the group. Her eyebrows raised in surprise when Imelda, who rarely drank out of ‘concern for her quidditch performance’, leaned over the table and exclaimed, “Y/N I’m so glad you’re here. We need to talk about Adelaide Oaks.” Her words were slightly slurred, the sentence punctuated with a very un-Imelda like giggle.

Poppy rolled her eyes before inserting herself into the conversation. “Imelda has finally decided to admit her crush on her. And tonight, apparently, she’s going to ask her out.” Poppy eyed Imelda’s nearly emptying glass before offering Y/N a smile, as if to say that she doubted Imelda’s resolve on the matter. Poppy seemed to be trying her best to act like everything was normal between them, despite the awkwardness that had hung around since their tiff in beasts class.

Y/N choose to ignore it, simply leaning forward and saying, “well Imelda, I think it’s great to be honest with your feelings. I feel like life would be a lot better if people did that more often.”

Oh, the irony.

Y/N shook that thought from her head, before offering her friends another smile and moving herself off her still. “Well, I think I’m going to go get a drink. Does anyone else want anything?”

Imelda responded yes a bit too quickly, and Y/N let out a soft laugh, promising to get her another butterbeer as she headed towards the counter.

Y/N did her best to push through the crowd without bumping anyone too much. Ever since knowledge about her powers had risen because of her triumph over Ranrok in 5th year, she had noticed that people had a tendency to recoil when they accidentally touched her- as if being in contact with her was enough to send a jolt of ancient magic through their veins. She always wondered if it was just a subconscious reaction to be bumped in by a stranger, or if there actually was some truth to the ancient magic theory, given that people didn’t seem fundamentally afraid of her. Many had actually tried to get into her good graces.

When Y/N did get to the bar, she leaned over an empty chair and tried to flag Sirona down. Instead of meeting the bartender’s eyes, she’s accidentally locked with a familiar, warm brown ones. She recoiled slightly at the surprise of seeing him here.

Abandoning the cause of getting herself a drink, she marched over to where he sat, now pushing through the crowd without much care. Sebastian seemed surprised at the lack of formal greeting when she slid into the seat next to them, and demanded, “why haven’t you responded to my letters?” She muttered the question in a hushed voice, her eyes traveling around the room to ensure that none of their friends had their attention turned in their direction. Thankfully, none did.

Sebastian looked down and bit his lip, a motion that simultaneously made Y/N want to throttle him and kiss him till they both were out of breath. He seemed uncharacteristically nervous when his eyes meet her’s again, glancing around as if he was equally afraid of them being caught. “How about I met you out back in 10 minutes… So I can explain.” His eyes were begging, to a degree that made Y/N relent with a sigh.

“Alright, ten minutes.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Thankfully, Y/N was able to retrieve her jacket and slip out without arousing much suspicion from her friends. The frigid air bit into her bones as she rocked back and forth on her feet nervously, her eyes traveling over approaching figures to look for Sebastian. Why he wanted to talk outside, she really had no clue. Wouldn’t it just have been simpler for him to have responded to her letters. Why this had to be said in person, she wasn’t quite sure.

Soon enough, the low drawl of her name on his lips pulled him from her thoughts. She looked up to meet his eyes yet again, the warm pools of brown she swore she could drown in without much effort. She yearned for the days were the look of adoration in his eyes was a gift she was given daily. But now, she was acutely aware of how much things had changed since fifth year. The grim look on his face said as much.

He broke the tentative silence once again, muttering, “I suppose I should just come out and say it. I think I’m bad for you Y/N. After what happened at the poacher camp, I-” He clamped his mouth shut at Y/N’s laugh in response, a scowl covering his lips.

“I- I’m sorry for laughing but… What? You weren’t the reason I went to the poachers, at least not directly. I was frustrated, I couldn’t sleep. I want to let off some steam.” Sebastian’s eyebrow quirked, seeming to catch onto the words she hadn’t processed she said.

“What do you mean, at least not directly?” Y/N startled a bit, her thoughts turning over in her head as she tried to decide the best response. It required some courage, but eventually she relented.

“The letters… They haven’t been enough for me Sebastian. I like you, more than as a friend… More than as a best friend even. And I’m frustrated that I can’t admit that because of my friends. I’m frustrated that this riff still exists between us… I wish,” her voice betrayed her, breaking slightly, “I wish things were more simple. I wish that it could just be you and me, and that I didn’t have to keep hiding my feelings.” Y/N stared down out her shoes, feeling unable to meet his eyes with the impending doom of rejection hanging over their conversation.

The silence between them was palpable, and Y/N felt her heart sinking in her chest with each passing second. To her surprise, she felt Sebastian grip her hand tightly, tugging at it slightly to urge her to look at him again.

The seriousness in his expression was unlike anything she had seen from Sebastian before. He had teased her about the possibility of him having feelings for him - had even flirted with her numerous times over their various misadventures during fifth year. Never had Y/N seen him this serious when it came to feelings.

“I feel the exact same way.” His words shattered the silence, and her heart, until her mind was able to process what he just admitted.

“I… do you mean that -” He took her other hand urgently, pulling her towards him in one smooth motion.

“Y/N L/N, I have been in love with you since you first knocked me on my ass since your first day in Defense Against the Dark Arts. I have been hopelessly in love with you every day since, even during sixth year. There is nothing more I want in this world then to call you mine… But, if us being apart means that you stay safe then-”

“-Oh you absolutely fool.” She mutted under her breath, before cutting him off by crashing her lips against his. Sebastian stilled for a second, before his body instinctively took over.

It wasn’t long before Sebastian gathered her form in his arms, pulling her body flush against his - an action that sent a shiver down her spine. The pure bliss of being so close to him, finally being able to touch him was nearly overwhelming. Y/N never wanted it to end.

That was, until, she heard a cough coming off from the side.

“So, when exactly were you planning on sharing this new… er, development shall we say, with me?”

Sebastian and Y/N both stilled as they turned to look, instantly leaping apart when they realized Ominis was leaning against the outside wall of the Three Broomsticks, a smirk painting his face.

[sapphicmsmarvel]

Azriel: Nightmares

Azriel was no stranger to a nightmare. 

He was used to them interrupting his dreams, one of the reasons he never slept more than a few hours a night. 

But then you came along. 

You loved to nap and be sleepy with your partner. So he pretended in the beginning that he’d sleep, just to see you at peace. Just to be able to hold you and love you with everything he had. 

But then he eventually felt safe with you. Enough to fall asleep. 

His nightmares slowed, they weren’t as common if you were next to him. He actually was able to deeply sleep a few times, which made him happy but also worried him because what if something happened to you and he didn’t wake up? 

You had assured him his shadows would not let him sleep through that. 

A common occurrence was when he’d have the nightmare and wake up, he would just watch you sleep. Sometimes, he’d lay his head on your chest just to listen to your heart beat, and feel your breaths. It was soothing. 

He always tried not to wake you up. But sometimes, it couldn’t be helped. 

“Azriel!”

This time, he jumped out of the worst kind of nightmare. 

The one where you’re in danger and no matter what he can’t get to you. It’s reoccurring. You’re on the battlefield and dying in his arms and there is nothing he can do to stop it and it terrifies him. 

Then some nights, it’s your make-believe children. He can’t recall their names inside the dream, but he knows they are his. They are yours. 

Those are his two worst ones. 

Tonight, it was your faceless, make-believe daughter dying. 

Your babygirl. 

She doesn’t exist yet, but he already loved her with all of his heart. She doesn’t exist yet, and he wants to hold her to reassure himself she’s okay. 

But she doesn’t exist. 

He feels like his heart is breaking all over again.

He looked over at you, your eyes full of love, concern and empathy. Your voice, his siren song, pulling him out of the nightmare. 

He shattered. 

You pulled him into you, cradling his head to your chest. “What happened, baby?”

He sniffed. “The nightmare involved our child. She didn’t have a name but I knew she was ours. She didn’t have a face and I knew she had your eyes and smile. I tried to save her and I-“ His voice cut off with a sob and you rocked him gently. “I couldn’t get to her. It scares me. What if I’m a shit dad? What kind of dad can’t save his child?” 

You kissed his head, he felt wetness land on his scalp and knew you were crying. “I’m sorry i’m weak. I shouldn’t be crying like this.” He was going to continue but your voice cut him off. 

“You are not weak Azriel.” Your voice was hard as stone. Firm. 

He sobbed a bit harder into your chest. You held him even tighter. “I have the nightmares too.” You whispered, “it’s our child and I can’t do anything to save them. You’re injured and I can’t save you. Our children don't even exist yet, but I love them with all my heart already.” You stroked his head. “You are not going to be a bad father, you are the best husband, the best mate I could ever ask for. When our children are here, they will be loved and cherished. Their daddy will make sure they’re okay.” You kissed his head. 

His sobs had slowed down during your speech, just gripping you tightly. 

“You are allowed to feel scared, sad, anguish. These are human emotions that you are allowed to feel. If you do not feel them, it will build up. I am honored that you love me so much, I’m so glad you love our children that don’t exist yet. It just shows me how good of a dad you are going to be. I do not think you are weak. You are loved, protected and cherished.” 

He felt himself breathe deeper with more freedom. “You are safe.” You breathed as you felt all his tension leave him. 

For the first time in his life, he truly believed that. 

[maryangelex]

Please, please, please.

I am requesting an Ex!husband John price/ Fem!reader, where they divorce and he’s absolutely devastated by it, grovels and upset that he lost the love of his life, and then years later by circumstances are in force proximity with each other and have to deal with communicating all their grievances and then bam heated smut and pent up frustrations at each other, and then get back together.

Thank you so much and I really appreciate you! But it’s also okay if you skip my request :)

a/n: anon how could i possibly leave this delectable prompt unanswered!!?!?!?! i have literally been saving this one for almost last because i need to use 110% of my prune brain its so amazing. one thing about me is...im a whore for ex-husband!price *clutches pearls* im sorry for making ya wait, i hope you love it!!!

this is gonna be a long one!

c/w: ex-husband!price, make-up sex, forced proximity, quickie, against a wall, p in v, creampie, john price yearns for his pretty wife

It hadn't been easy, no divorce is easy, really. Much less when it was something you didn't really want to do, but more so saw yourself as needing to do. The nights without John had gotten too lonely, his side of the bed had gotten too cold. You thought the times he was back would make up for the times he wasn't. When John came back from deployment it felt like a coin toss: sometimes it was your honeymoon all over again, but other times he was cold and distant.

You had two kids in tow; two kids that needed their father. You were a wife that needed her husband just as much. You don't blame him for not being there of course. After all, you owed it all to him; all you ever wanted he got for you, he provided you a house to raise your children in, to grow old in. He gave you nothing but unconditional love. That's what made everything harder when you decided you couldn't do this anymore. You couldn't keep hoping he'd come home to be his normal self every time just to be met with the shell of the man you fell in love with.

You knew it wasn't his fault, you knew his line of work. But having to be alone the majority of the year plus having to still be alone when he was around had gotten to you, it had become too much. And John knew this. When you told him through sobs and wails that you couldn't do this anymore, that you felt hopeless and alone and like this was the only remedy, he understood. He had packed his things and left without a fuss, leaving you the house and renting an apartment barely a drive away. He tried to make it as simple as possible, arranging to stay with the kids every weekend and more if you needed time for yourself. His silence and compliance to separate felt like more of a dagger in your chest than the reason to separate to begin with. You wished he had fought for you, that he had yelled at you and argued with you to stay and fix this.

Little did you know that when he found himself in the empty single-bedroom apartment he rented himself he did nothing but cry like a neglected child for hours until his eyes stung and couldn't physically push out any more tears. John Price was a man made of stone and yet he found himself clutching his chest as he sobbed for his wife nearly every night and every lonesome morning. He kicked himself for not fighting for you, as well. He blamed himself for having to come to this in the first place, for leaving you alone and not knowing how to cope well enough to be the very best of himself when he came back from grueling missions. For not being able to look you in the eyes after losing a man, for not being able to open up to you and cry like this in front of you when he needed to let it out of his chest, for not making love to you like a tending husband should at his wife's every whim.

He felt like the consequences of choosing his career had finally caught up to him, and losing you was his penance.

The two of you finalized your divorce quietly and without struggle, feeling like it only drove the knife deeper into your chest. You settled on the kids seeing John every other weekend and he'd be more than welcome back home to be present as their father. Because that was the thing about John: he may have not seen himself as a good man (not good enough for you, for sure) but you both knew he was the best father your kids (and you) could ever ask for.

It's been a year since your divorce; John had been living in his separate flat whilst you and the kids stayed home. He'd come every week, and take the kids every other weekend. Now your oldest's birthday was a few days away and who were you to deprive him of coming? After he had been doing such a good job at not crossing your boundaries, at being a loving father and giving you every bit of warmth and kindness and love that he gave you when you were still together...the more you listed these things the more your heart ached and you doubted yourself. The more you realized you still loved him.

On the day of your kid's birthday, he made sure to get there extra early to help you set up the place. He bought the necessary supplies, picked up the cake from the bakery, and set up the chairs and balloons. Hell, you barely lifted a finger. And of course, he was more than happy to do everything and anything for you with that cheek-pulling smile of his. As the party went on and the house filled with guests and wild kids running about, you scrambled around the house to make sure no one needed anything. That's when John intervened.

"Everythin' alright, hon? Been runnin' round the house like mad," his voice was sweet like honey as he entered the garage, where you were taking out can after can of soda from the spare fridge and into the cooler with ice you brought with you. You didn't turn to look at him as you sighed in exasperation, but you could feel John just a few steps behind you.

"Just making sure everyone's got something to drink...the sodas've run out in the cooler outside and--"

"Everyone's havin' a good time, love," John cut off your rambling with a light chuckle, the rumbling of his voice making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He interjected by taking the cooler from your hands "Let me get that for you," he said, lifting the heavy plastic for you. You sighed again and brought the back of your hand to rub your forehead. You finally looked up to meet his eyes, which were gazing at you with so much adoration it made your stomach twist.

"John..." you started, and he responded with a furrow of his brows and a silent question. "Please don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like you still love me," you blurted, and the beat your heart skipped let you know you physically regretted saying that, instantly.

John's lips pressed into a thin line as he paused for a moment in silence.

"I do still love you," he confessed. You shook your head in disbelief and scoffed.

"John, please, it's our kid's birthday," you dismissed as you turned on your heel and made your way to the door except-

Right, you now remembered why it was a rule in your house this past year to not close the garage door: the lock was busted. You gripped the knob firmly and gave it one, two, three harsh tugs, hoping to somehow force the door open. You banged the door with your fist in frustration, hoping maybe someone heard it on the other side but all you heard was the music playing on the other side.

"Let me have a go," John said, placing the cooler down and tugging just as harshly, even slamming his shoulder against it to see if it would budge, but nothing. You and John were trapped in your garage. You let out a groan and a quiet curse as you pinched the bridge of your nose with a hand on your hip.

John placed a hand on your bicep. They were cold from the ice but the squeeze and rubbing of his thumb on your skin was filled with warmth.

"S'alright, take a breather, hon," he said tenderly, "they'll miss us soon enough to come lookin' in here."

You nodded as you stepped away from his touch. You never stopped John from still using terms of endearment for you, it never felt like a big deal. You were frustrated from the party, the perfectionist in you wanting nothing but to give your kids the best party, and now you were locked up in the garage. To make matters worse, you were locked up in here with your ex-husband who just said he still loves you.

"I meant what I said, love," his voice was barely a whisper but it still brought you out of your thoughts.

"John..." you warned.

"No, I mean it," his tone rose, firmer this time, "I still fuckin' love you, baby."

"Well, it's too late for that now, isn't it? You're gonna make an effort now, John, a year later?"

John was silent, pleading blue eyes gazing at you, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

"You didn't fight for us, John. You didn't fight for me." your finger pointed to your chest firmly as you looked back at him with tear-filled eyes.

"I know, baby, I know," his voice shook in his throat, "I should've fought for us... I should've been a better husband to you, better dad for the kids I-- I should've just been there."

You were quiet as you choked on a quiet sob, the tears escaping down your cheeks.

"I haven't stopped loving you for a second, my only regret in life is not having fought harder for you, having let go of you so easily - fuck," you watched the tears prick his eyes as he stepped closer to you. His palm came to cup your cheek and his thumb wiped away the tear staining your cheeks.

"I failed you. I just...please, baby, I just want one more chance to be a better man for you... I just want my girl back." His tone was soft as if he was reciting a prayer kneeling at a pew. His other hand came to the other side of your face, tucking your hair behind your ear before it cupped your other cheek alike.

You sobbed and brought your hands up to his wrists, shaking your head lightly, knowing all you really wanted was to forgive him despite your denial.

His forehead pressed against you as he whispered once more, "Please, baby..."

"John..." you tried

The tip of his nose rubbed against yours, "Please," he repeated, "be my pretty wife again...be mine again, yeah?" His lips brushed against yours and his hands were firm on your cheeks. You sobbed one more time before his lips pressed against yours, slotting together like two pieces of a puzzle. And fuck, you melted as your lips met.

His lips against yours just felt so right; they were your husband's lips, after all. They were made for yours and yours were made for his, that's why you knew you were so perfect for each other. The way he kissed you made your chest break into a million pieces because you just missed him so much.

The hold on his wrists became limp and you didn't resist - you couldn't resist his kiss because you wanted it so desperately, you've wanted it for this entire past year.

Your mouth moved with his, lips clashing and caressing against each other, teeth clicking together with the force of your desperate kisses, your tongues hungrily pressing their way into each others' mouths. John's hand slid to the back of your head, fingers snaking into your hair and raking through your scalp. You hummed into his mouth at the feeling.

Your hands slid up his back, balling into fists over his shoulder blades and gripping the fabric of his shirt as if you'd lose him again if you didn't hold him firm enough. You held him impossibly close to you as he did the same, your bodies familiarly molded to each other.

You felt John step forward as he still kissed you, backing you up into the nearest wall and it made the heat in your core ignite like a bonfire. When you felt the cold wall against your body, you pried your mouth away from his to gasp a breath but it wasn't half a second later before he captured your lips again. His hands slid down the frame of your body, pawing at your chest and curves before eagerly bunching up the skirt of your dress around your hips. You scrambled to his belt, clumsily and hurriedly doing your best to unbuckle it and undo his pants.

He scoured under your dress to tug your underwear down your thighs with messy urgency. His lips sloppily and wetly trailed up and down your chest and neck before finding their way back to your mouth.

Your hand palmed his hardened length through his boxers and he groaned into your mouth. One of his hands took hold of yours and stuffed it in his boxers to stroke his aching cock as you both panted between kisses.

"All yours, darling," he groaned as he guided your hand stroking his cock, "forever fuckin' will be yours."

And you whined at his words, or maybe at the way his other hand snaked between your legs, fingers wetting themselves with the slick pooled between your folds before pressing into your hole. He pumped his fingers in and out, making you reminisce on how those thick digits have made you feel so good in the past.

You moaned his name like a prayer, pleading for him to fuck you because you needed him. You've needed him for a fucking year and couldn't wait a second longer.

John would give you anything and everything, he always has. So he wasted no time in removing his fingers from your pussy, coating his cock in the slick they collected, and using his other hand to hike your leg up around his waist.

You braced yourself against the wall and with your hands against his shoulders as he practically lifted you off your feet and insert his girthy, swollen cock inside of you. You moaned unabashedly at the way he split you open as he bottomed out.

"So perfect...my perfect wife," he breathed, "made just for me, baby." His fingers dug into the flesh of your thigh and you were sure it would bruise the same way your nails clawing through his shirt were sure to leave crescents on his skin.

John pumped his cock in and out of you slowly but firmly for a few strokes before picking up the pace. His rhythm was relentless as he fucked up into you, pistoning his hips and making your skin clap against each other.

You threw your head back as you whined and moaned at the feeling of the head of his cock bullying against your cervix. Thank god for the music outside.

John hiked up your other leg, wrapping both around his waist as he fucked you against the wall hard and needy. His eyes looked deep into your teary ones, not breaking away to not miss the gorgeous sight of his pretty wife getting fucked by him after so long. He moaned at just the look on your face, at the way your walls gripped him like a vice.

"Look at you... never lettin' go of somethin' so beautiful," he practically slurred, his rhythm becoming sloppy and desperate as he chased his high, and he knew you were close too.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and took his mouth into another starved kiss. Your hands tugged at the hair on the back of his head and you let him fuck you with the same longing and desire as the first time.

You chanted his name between breathy moans as you climbed up to your climax. John was a mumbling mess of endearments and sweet nothings as he kept thrusting hard and sloppy into your squelching pussy.

"I love you, John," you choked out through tears, not knowing if it was from the pleasure he was giving you or from the overwhelming emotion being with your husband again was making you feel.

"I fuckin' love you more, dove," he accentuated his words with thrusts until he felt your walls clamp around his length and watched as you wailed and sobbed out more moans, sending him into his own climax with just a few more pumps shortly after. You were sure you'd bear him a third child with the way his cum seeped out of you.

He rested his sweat-coated forehead against yours as you both panted. You were a flushed mess against the wall, limbs liquefied and throat raw. John slowly let you down with the utmost care in the world, gently holding you up on your feet like you were a delicate porcelain doll.

You held each other close as he peppered soft kisses on your face, the same way he'd always done after sex when you were married. John Price, always the gentleman.

You basked in the afterglow as you gazed at each other, love filling John's wide dark pupils. It was hard for you to hide the smile that tugged at your lips and it made John chuckle, thumb rubbing your cheek lovingly.

Then, you heard the rattling of the door and you quickly stood up straight and collected yourself up on your feet the best you could. Kyle, or Uncle Gaz as your kids coined him, and the other two men had burst through the lodged garage door.

"Oi, how long you two been locked here?" he questioned.

"Aye, we been callin' youse for half 'n hour," the Scott quipped behind him.

John scolded them for not acting quicker if they were so worried, and scowled at the way the younger two had shit-eating grins plastered on their faces. He dismissed them as he picked up the cooler, which was now more full of water than ice, and shot you a look.

You chided at his smirk with your bright red cheeks.

"This mean I can move back in?" he teased.

"We'll see, John" you fought back a smile.

[frozenjokes]

do we think cannibalism is a good idea yet? please? please do cannibalism?

“Hey, you okay, Mumbo? Can I come up? I’m thinking I’m going to come up regardless of what you say, but I’d like it if you just said yes.”

It was Scar. Mumbo said nothing. Scar hit his head twice attempting to get in with a trident, but made it on the third go, sighing with a dramatic ‘whew!’ There was a small silence in the wake of Scar’s arrival, causing the same agony Mumbo was sure Cub experienced when Mumbo smashed his ribs.

“Guess he told you,” Mumbo muttered, resigned to this outcome. Cub would tell Scar, Scar would push for more answers, and eventually the whole damn server would know something was wrong, not that they could do anything about it. Mumbo would not leave. Not until his shadow had its way.

“Cub told me you were really upset, yeah. Said he didn’t know why,” Scar shrugged, “Told me he thought you needed a friend. So here I am.”

“Ah,” Mumbo couldn’t even manage the noise without his voice slipping in a soft crack. Scar stepped toward the bed where Mumbo was curled up, moving to take his hand, then letting it go when Mumbo flinched.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” Scar said, so impossibly gentle, and while Mumbo most certainly would not, he didn’t want to say nothing; he didn’t think he could just say nothing, it was too much.

“I think I’m- I’m very ill. I’m having a- a crisis, I think. Mentally. I’m not well. I’m really not well.”

Scar hummed, low and thoughtful, “Want a hug? I could lay down with you, no need to sit up.”

“I don’t want to face you.”

“That’s not a problem.”

“I-Okay. I’m just. I’m just going to stay here. I’m just going to stay here.”

Mumbo felt the bed dip beside him, Scar muttering a soft, “Alright,” before sliding in and holding him in a gentle spoon. It was nice feeling Scar behind him, warm even through the blanket that separated them. Slowly, Mumbo let that heat consume him, felt his heart rate slow. And then out of nowhere it seemed, wretchedly, he started to sob. It was not unusual for Mumbo to cry, though most of his grief was saved for the end of worlds, the friends he’d never see again. So much of his focus was dedicated to staying in the moment, distracting himself, putting one foot in front of the other; stopping to sob was a waste of energy, a waste of resolve. It was giving up. And Mumbo was aware of what was coming, he knew it, but in each new world acceptance came later, the moment where the gravity of his soon-to-end life hit him harder each time, and today, it was hitting now. He could delude himself all he wanted that he’d hold on until the end of the season, but he knew he wouldn’t make it. He would hardly be able to stand more than a month of this. It was over. Maybe it’d be better to bite the bullet now. Stop drawing out his own suffering and deal with the hurt after it was done.

How selfish was that, with Scar at his back. With monstrous effort, he ground down the thought that this would be the ideal way to do it; turning around and tearing through Scar’s chest, disabling any means of fighting back, then taking his damned time. Mumbo cried harder when Scar followed his arm down to his hand, rubbing circles with his thumb into the back.

He would wait.

“Please tell Cub to leave me alone. I don’t know what he wants, I don’t care, I just don’t want to see him anymore. For the rest of the season, I don’t want to see him.”

“He wants you to eat him.”

Mumbo stiffened, a short, strangled sound crawling from his throat, but Scar shushed him gently, holding Mumbo’s hand tighter in turn.

“Just listen, lay here with me and listen before you freak out, alright?” Scar's voice was little more than a whisper, gentle force at Mumbo’s side serving to keep him still and as calm as he could stand to be.

“Why?” Mumbo croaked out, and felt Scar gesture vaguely with his head.

“He’s worried, mostly. He gets in his head about things, and he’s trying to solve them but he- well, he’s not the most tactful guy sometimes. I think he got scared when he saw you at the start of season ten; the last time he’d really seen you was after your break when you looked really bad.. He’s worried things are going to escalate to the point they did before, so he’s uh.. decided he’s gonna fix it. With cannibalism. When he’s talking about it to me it makes a lot of sense, but uh.. I mean, I guess it’s a little out there..”

“How do I make him stop. You have to- Scar, please make him stop.” Mumbo felt himself quivering in Scar’s hold, be it from fear or anger, he did not know.

“Oh, he won’t take it from me. I mean, he would if I was the guy he was trying to convince to eat other people, but he doesn’t always take secondhand advice like that. In this case, he’s way too zeroed in. You have to do it.”

“Well- fine. I’ll do it then, I’ll do it right now-“ Mumbo wriggled in Scar’s grip, but he held fast.

“Wait a minute- Not like that, no, not like that.” Scar almost laughed, but there was a little more stress there than anything.

“Not like what?” Mumbo huffed, annoyed. He pushed one last struggle, but gave in when Scar didn’t let go.

“You’ve got to be straight with Cub, you’ll put him off if you go about this too.. emotionally charged, let’s say. I’ll tell you exactly how to do it, I want to help you, Mumbo.”

Mumbo took a breath, then forced himself to relax, “Okay. Tell me. Please.”

Mumbo felt Scar straighten up behind him, then clear his throat, like he was about to address a crowd. “First, you gotta be as close to emotionless as you can make yourself. Fire up the coldest, deadest soul you can manage, and talk to him like you’ve just found out a close friend from like ten years ago got really sick, like really sick, terminal, and you don’t really know what to do, but the messenger of the news is looking awkward so you tell them it’s okay, it’s fine, but you don’t really feel fine, you know, your old friend is-“

“I understand, Scar,” Mumbo said, stuck between annoyance and a soft pang of amusement.

“Oh- alright,” Scar sounded a little embarrassed, but not offended, “Well I say that because Cub doesn’t- I know he doesn’t do this on purpose, and he’d probably be hurt if I said this to him so please don’t say anything, but he tends to take you less seriously when you approach him in an emotional kind of way. He really doesn’t mean to, he just gets a little confused I think, frustrated maybe. He doesn’t get it, is what I mean. He’s extremely bad at getting it. He’s sympathetic, but if you approach him and you’re emotional about it he’ll start thinking he knows better than you, in a ‘I’m just gonna take care of it for you,’ kinda way, which is completely infuriating, believe me, I know.”

“Are.. Are you guys okay?”

“Ah!” Scar jumped as if Mumbo had tazed him, “No no no! I’m just trying to explain it to you. I love Cub, he’s great, he’s the best. Literally. He’s just kind of an asshole sometimes. And he knows that, he doesn’t like being an asshole, so he listens when you tell him how it is.”

“Okay.. Then I’ll tell him I’m not going to eat him. And to stop bothering me.”

“No you won’t.”

Mumbo made a face, then gave in, “Okay. What will I tell him then.”

“You gotta tell him how he’s acting, right? You can’t tell him how what he’s doing makes you feel because he does not care, and he’ll probably tell you that, because when he’s made his mind up about something he seriously does not give a fuck unless you reach into his brain and shake it around a little. You gotta really take him by the temples and just shake.” Scar shook Mumbo a little for emphasis, Mumbo half fighting half chuckling as Scar dissolved into giggles.

“So I tell him that he’s being a prick and he should snap out of it before I get other people involved,” Mumbo sighed harshly, “Honestly, I shouldn’t even bother. I’ll just tell Grian. He’ll take care of it.”

“No, no,” Scar laughed, but it was a more nervous sound, like he knew just how serious Grian would take a matter like this, “That first bit is perfect. If you tell him that like you’re really serious- approach him first too, don’t wait for him to come to you- it’ll stop him right in his tracks. If that doesn’t work, call me. You don’t have to threaten him or anything, just make him see he’s not going about his business in the right way. I don’t do much more than tell him he’s being an asshole and he backs down. It’s magic.”

“Well- Okay. But I’m going to Grian if this doesn’t work.” Mumbo started to get up, but stopped when Scar squeezed his hand.

“Wait until tomorrow,” he said, quiet, “It’ll be better for you. Stay, rest today.” Even quieter still, he continued, “I’m sorry you’re going through something, Mumbo. If you ever want to get into the weeds I’m here, and you know Grian will be up and arms for you at the drop of a hat. It doesn’t.. It doesn’t matter what it is. To me especially, you have to know it doesn’t matter,” and with a small laugh, he said, “You could tell me you wanted to saw my head off with just your nails and I’d probably go yikes! I don’t think I’ll be very alive before you finish with the decapitation, but I'm free all day Wednesday, so we can give it a shot!”

“I’ll wait,” was all Mumbo could say. He hoped Scar would let it go now, but less than a minute later, he was speaking again.

“I just hope you know Cub’s got good intentions. He’s not trying to hurt you. I know it doesn’t always feel like that, especially when he can look you in the eyes and disregard your feelings because he’s more convinced he’s helping than he sees he’s upsetting you. I.. I’m also worried about you, if I’m being honest. It doesn’t take me finding you curled up in bed to know you haven’t been in the best shape lately. I don’t know the best way to go about this, Mumbo, and I don’t think- I don’t know if Cub.. I don’t always think he has the best way of going about things, but I understand where he’s coming from. I understand why. I know it’s difficult to extend him the kind of patience that you would for a closer friend, but please try. All of the hermits care about you, even the ones you don’t know well. We want to see you doing well.”

“I don’t want to talk anymore, Scar.”

Scar was quiet for a long moment. “Okay.”

…

Mumbo found Cub at the permit office where Scar told him Cub would probably be most consistently at least some part of the day. The idea of doing this in the permit office was most comforting for Mumbo, for the slim chance that Grian might also be there, might come up to Cub’s office and save him from the agony of this confrontation, though, the more logical part of Mumbo’s brain said that Grian was the wrong kind of person to convince Cub of anything. It was probably a good thing he never came in to work.

Mumbo had never been to the permit office before, but he couldn’t find an entrance, so grimacing, he poked a hole in the wall, replacing the blocks as he went. He climbed up the stairs with some issue (everything here seemed to be cluttered and difficult to find), then stopped before coming to the third floor, hesitating.

“Cub?” he called, feeling exceedingly stupid.

“Mumbo?” Cub nearly squawked, more than surprised, but this gave Mumbo some confidence, climbing the stairs to Cub’s office.

“Hello,” Mumbo said coolly, finding the even tone much easier to achieve now that he was face to face with Cub. Cub straightened his posture, and Mumbo, pleased to have gotten his attention, continued, “You’re being a prick.”

Cub blinked, then again a few times, but his expression stayed mostly the same. “Okay.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Yes.” Cub tapped his nails on his desk, looking thoughtful.

“I’d like to know what you’re going to do about it. Because if things continue the way they’re going, I’m going to have Grian get involved, and that would be a mighty pain in your ass.”

Cub nodded like this made perfect sense, “I think that’s fair. I do not want that. How about you sit down, Mumbo.”

“I’d rather not.”

“That’s fine. Regardless, I’d like to have a conversation about this so we can work out what we’re going to do next.”

“I already know what’s going to happen here, Cub. You’re going to leave me alone, cut complete contact, or I’m getting other hermits involved. That’s where this is going.”

“I would appreciate it if we could talk first, because as much as I’m sure you have plenty of words to say about me, I have a few things to say of my own, and I think it’s only reasonable that I speak my peace before you call in the dogs. You can hear exactly what I want from my own mouth and decide for yourself how you’d like to move forward when I’m done.” Cub closed his eyes, then opened them a moment later, “Because it doesn’t matter if you pit the entire server against me, I’m a damn stubborn cunt in the face of the kind of adversity you’re threatening, and the easy way out is here, at my desk. If you sit here and listen to everything I have to say and still want out, then I will leave you alone.” Cub eyed his own chair distastefully, getting up and maneuvering to sit with his legs crossed on his desk instead. He brushed away the few papers and knickknacks he kept, pushing them onto the now empty chair. “My desk chair is meant to sit higher than the one where a client would sit, but that’s all roleplay, let’s ditch the nonsense.”

Mumbo frowned. He considered calling Scar, but that wouldn’t help him here. He sighed. For the peace of mind of never having to deal with Cub again, this seemed a small price to pay. Mumbo climbed onto Cub’s desk, awkward with his long legs.

“Okay. Speak then.”

“I’ll only leave you alone if you listen to everything I have to say, got it?”

“Just get on with it, Cub.”

Cub rolled his shoulders, seeming quite content with taking his time. And then Cub’s eyes narrowed, throwing Mumbo a look so fiercely knowing that Mumbo felt it pierce straight through his bleeding heart.

“Let me start with what I don’t care about, because as far as shit like this goes, I prefer to lay it all out on the table. When it comes to the hobbies of this server’s inhabitants, slowly torturing, dismembering, and eventual eating alive of animals is pretty low of my list of Things That Make Me Feel Good but ultimately high on my list of Things I Don’t Really Give A Fuck About, and given everything I know about you, Mumbo, I don’t think you’re psychotic, I think you probably have a pretty good reason to do those things you do thousands of blocks out from spawn. And before you start squabbling at me, I found out in season eight, Scar knows because I told him, and I’m 99% sure Grian knows, but he never told me so and I haven’t directly asked him. I’m willing to bet he’s known since season six though, probably weeks within the first day he met you. If anyone else knows, I haven’t been told about it.”

Mumbo covered his gaping mouth with a quivering hand. He didn’t know what to do or what to say. Part of him wanted to lunge forward and silence Cub, but that wouldn’t stop him. It wouldn’t keep him from coming back. Cub did not look sympathetic. If anything, he looked angry.

“What do you need, Mumbo.” It wasn’t a question.

Mumbo didn’t answer.

“What do you need. What do you need? Why are you hiding it? What’s the damn point? If you need to eat, Mumbo, fucking eat, wasting away isn’t doing anything or anyone, especially not you.”

“It’s not about me.”

“Is it not?” Cub asked snidely, whatever neutral patience he’d been holding onto before evaporating, “What, you don’t want to hurt anyone? Are you a monster, Mumbo, because you have a little thirst for human blood? Join the fucking club! I can not for the life of me figure out what’s going on in your head- Do you think you’re better than the rest of us? Don’t want to stoop so low? What’s your damn problem! More than half of the server would lay themselves out on a platter for you on a whim of cannibalism related curiosity! Forget it if you need to eat people to survive; even the hermits you haven’t spoken to in months would cut themselves open for you! Have you opened your eyes in the past ten years? We’re all fucking deranged!”

“Shut the fuck up.” Mumbo felt the coolness come easy to him, encompassing him like black tar, “You’re making an ass out of yourself, jumping to conclusions like you can read minds.”

“You don’t give anyone much of a choice but to speculate.”

“Then I’ll lay it out for you,” Mumbo felt the rumble of a growl in his throat, expecting Cub to bite back, but he did not, silent, waiting. “Eating is not a matter of meat, not for me. Meat in the final step, but alone it is nothing, just a conduit. I need terror. I need hopelessness, despair, the kind that builds over years and years of terrorizing and watching your back and holding tightly to the things you love because you don’t know how much longer you can stand to stay, to hold them. Trying every avenue of escape, but it’s never enough. Drawing it out, leaving you alone just long enough that you think it might be safe, you think it might be over, but it’s never over. The only thing you can do is leave everything behind, find a new world, and hope to whatever higher power you believe in that I don’t follow. This isn’t as simple as asking for permission, Cub. When I finally decide it’s over, this world will end. You can not convince an animal otherwise. Animals only want to eat, grow, feel full. I will never be full. I don’t think I can be full. I can escape to sentience for a little while, spite that animal inside me, starve, but I have a feeling I’m only allowed to do so because it makes the upcoming meal that much sweeter. Betrayal, fear, hurt. To answer your questions, that’s what I need. You can tell the whole server, and it will not change the outcome. You can’t get rid of me. I won’t stop until Hermitcraft and all the history of its seasons, held in this one server, is completely abandoned.”

Cub was quiet for a long few moments after Mumbo was done, thinking, considering. “Right,” he said, almost like he didn’t believe him, the carelessness of that one word enough to make Mumbo want to bite his head right off. “That makes a lot more sense.” Then under his breath, trailing off, “..a little dramatic, but..”

“Does it.” Mumbo seethed, though part of him didn’t even know why. The callousness, the disregard- maybe he was angry that Cub wasn’t afraid because it made for a worse build up, a modicum less satisfying in the end. Maybe he was angry because Cub didn’t seem to care, and he should.

“What are you? Never heard of anything like that.” Again Cub continued casually, and despite Mumbo’s seething, his anger eased slightly at the question, reasonable enough.

“I don’t have a name. Over the years victims pass rumors of my existence around, but I’m hardly widespread enough to surpass the standard obscurity in worlds of temporary horrors. As far as I know I’m the only one of my kind,” Mumbo paused, shrugging, “Guess that’s not super likely though.”

“How old are you? You look like you’re in your twenties, maybe early thirties.”

“I don’t know. I tend to match the age of the people around me. It’s not a conscious effort.” Mumbo’s anger was starting to fade, replaced instead by a deep confusion, possibly a small amount of relief. He had very little idea what was happening here, what Cub was trying to get at, but he’d never been able to.. talk about this. Ever. Even his shadow didn’t seem to know how to feel, the both of them side eyeing each other from their places on Cub’s desk.

“Oh, I don’t mean now. I mean like- forever. In total, since you were born, or.. whatever created you.”

“I don’t remember when I started to exist. Atoms aren’t very concerned with the passage of time, nor are plants and animals. For the majority of my existence I did not count the years. Even now, I don’t count them like people do. I only want to know how long I can hold my sentience before it’s gone again.”

“Ah. So like. Really old. Really really old. Wow. I knew your body could change, I’ve seen it, but you can be different species altogether?”

Mumbo shifted uncomfortably at the idea of having been watched. He could not afford to feel shame for the animals he consumed, but he really didn’t like the idea that multiple hermits may have witnessed what he was doing and not said a word. He was always so careful- even then, if someone was following him, Mumbo was certain he would be able to sense their fear. Maybe he didn’t notice over the screams of jackrabbits. It was entirely too possible. Cub seemed unconcerned about Mumbo’s silence, continuing to ask questions almost like he was speaking to himself, like he didn’t need or want the answers because theorizing was entertaining enough.

“Can I see it? See you change?” Was the question that snapped Mumbo back to reality, the utter stupidity of the words rousing him back to life.

“If you’d like to see me lose my sentience in real time then paint the floor in your blood, sure Cub, whatever you want.”

Cub paused, almost consideringly, like he’d completely missed the sarcasm, “Maybe another time. What about something sentient? Can you do that? Like a vex- Like Scar and I! I mean, I honestly don’t know if the little guys are very sentient, so best not try-“

But Mumbo was already rolling his eyes, resigned to doing circus pony tricks, and the ethereal blue skin that painted Cub and Scar’s vex forms rippled across his own, dark hair curling into streaks of white, small wings fluttering at his back. Without entirely knowing what he was doing, he raised his newly clawed hands in a playful splay, hissing for emphasis, then let the whole change ripple away, returning to his human form. Cub looked spellbound, and the attention felt dangerous, appealing to Mumbo far more than he thought safe.

“That’s incredible! Oh, Scar would get a real kick out of that! You’ve got to show him!”

“I- It’s really nothing,” Mumbo rubbed the back of his neck, deeply unsure how to feel about this, but certainly mounting in alarm, “I’m not- I’m not showing Scar, I’m not doing that again-“

“Can you turn into other people? Can you look like me?”

“I- Probably? I mean I’m sure I can, I don’t really have limits, but this isn’t something I-“

“Try? Can you try? You don’t have limits? Okay we’ll go back to that later. Can you try?”

“We aren’t- we aren’t going back to anything!” Mumbo squeaked in his distress, but Cub was so genuinely interested, so genuinely impressed that Mumbo didn’t- he’d never experienced something like this before. So he gave in and tried, though, ‘tried’ implies there was any effort at all when in reality it was quite easy, basically second nature, until the change was complete and his mind seemed to double over on itself, the same but entirely different, thinking his thoughts but in completely different ways, stalling Mumbo where he sat, paralyzed by the horrors of a new inner working. Almost immediately he changed back, heaving shallow breaths as his mind caught up with the speed of his thoughts.

“Whoa- That was- Are you okay?” Cub stopped in his tracks, apparently failing to notice the internal explosion that occurred in Mumbo’s head.

“I am never doing that again.”

“What-“

“Your brain is awful,” Mumbo heaved, and Cub blinked, and Mumbo knew exactly what was happening, that Cub was processing, everything inside of him sluggish and those pauses, all those times he paused between sentences, it made sense now.

“You copied my body and mind?” Cub breathed, and Mumbo was still reeling so hard from the momentary terror of being in Cub’s head that he could not respond, “That’s- I mean maybe I should have guessed that might happen if you’re changing completely, but- I don’t know! I wonder why you reacted so badly if you were just me, because I wouldn’t have cared, I’ve lived here all my life. Maybe you keep part of your own head? The internal dialogue? Oh- Maybe you didn’t get my whole brain, you just got all the mental illness. In that case, I am very sorry. I bet you’d inherit physical problems too, the ones that don’t get fixed by respawns. Scar’s sickness, for example. Wow. That is really cool. I’ve never needed to cut someone open so badly in my entire life. Can I study you? I’m asking but I really don’t want to be asking. I know I said I wouldn’t pester you after this was over but I have way too many questions.” Mumbo was honestly shocked Cub could talk so fast in a brain like that, but then again, he hadn’t stuck around to find out the complexities. Maybe it only sounded fast because Mumbo’s own head was fried.

“Okay, so how do we kill you?”

Mumbo blinked up at that. “What?”

“If you go crazy, how do we kill you? Stop you, whatever.”

“Okay- one. This isn’t about ‘if’s’ so don’t get in your head about it. And you can’t stop me either, that’s not how this works. I don’t just die.”

“You can die perfectly well right now,” Cub pointed out, unconcerned.

“Well- sure. But it doesn’t matter if you kill me or not in any form, I don’t stay dead.”

“That’s fine,” Cub said, tapping his fingers impatiently on his legs, “Just tell me how. When you were hunting all those pigs you didn’t look like you got hurt or even bled.”

Mumbo huffed, impatient himself, “Well if you want to kill me, you’d better do it instantly. I don’t sustain any injuries if I don’t want to, the skin heals over as soon as whatever’s hit me is gone.”

“So if I wanted to keep you somewhere, I’d impale you. Get you in the head or heart, or maybe not some place lethal.”

“You can’t keep me anywhere, I’ll just change.”

“Ah, right. Then I’ll have to convince you not to somehow. How do you feel about peoples’ suffering if you’re not the one inflicting it? Can you tell the difference between a real scream and a fake one?” Cub talked casually like this was a simple matter of problem solving, far too animated, almost like it was fun.

“I- I don’t know, Cub, but I don’t think this is a very productive line of thought.”

“Why not? I mean, I’ll have years I’m sure to experiment on my own, but while you’re here and talking to me I think I should take advantage, don’t you?”

“You can’t stop me!” Mumbo nearly shouted in his distress, though Cub remained unperturbed.

“Is this Mumbo Jumbo the sentient human talking or Mumbo Jumbo the flesh eating terror, because if I may, you’re sounding suspiciously like the flesh eating terror.”

“You- You have no idea what you’re dealing with. This isn’t something you can stop or fight, Cub, I’ve lived hundreds of lives and worlds where everyone I’ve ever befriended has-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Cub interrupted him, “I don’t care. However, maybe you’re right that prepping for the worst case scenario isn’t a great use of our time because who knows how much you’ve got left. Let’s see what we can do to extend it first, yeah? If we can do that indefinitely, then there’s no problem!”

“I’ve already tried everything, Cub-“

“Have you tried cannibalism?”

“No, but-“

“Then you have not tried everything. What’s your deal? Why are you so against it? I understand your methods are a tad more intense, but who cares. Y’know, I bet this would be more effective against someone who isn’t going to see it coming. Scar is a prime candidate, but Grian would be even better for your purposes.”

Mumbo blanched, reddening in turn as anger brought flush to his face, “I am not going to attack anyone without telling them! What is wrong with you?”

Cub raised an eyebrow, then shrugged, “If you want to maximize the time you have with sentience, you should take advantage of the beginning when no one understands why you’re doing what you’re doing. For the purpose of farming enough suffering to last you, it seemed reasonable, but yeah, probably a little extreme. Still, I think you’re going to have to ease up on the ethics here if we’re going to figure something out.”

“I’m not- No, Cub. I’m telling you no.”

“Why?” It was Cub’s turn to be frustrated, scowling as he rolled his eyes.

“Because I would feel bad!”

Cub nearly hissed, throwing up his arms, “For fuck’s sake! Are we not past that? I thought your whole issue is that you make friends then torture them to death a thousand times before moving on and doing it again. Why do you suddenly have problems now that you have a willing participant?”

“Because I’m sentient, Cub!”

“You’re cowardly is what you are. Get over it.”

“Right, sure, yeah, I’ll just do that.”

“Great!” Cub huffed, “I’m ready then! Go on, paint the floor red or whatever you said about my blood. Get it all over. Give me a reason to be afraid.”

“I can’t. I don’t- You don’t get it. I spend so much time in this body doing my best to make up for everything I’ve done. I’m glad that you don’t seem to have a guilty conscience, but it’s not so easy to know the full weight of the horrors you’ve committed and the pain you will bring again because you can’t stop. What’s the point of spending the rest of my time here inflicting the same kind of suffering I will when I lose my head. You think you can stop it, but you’re wrong. You are wrong. I am past delaying the inevitable. Let me have this. Let me starve. I will do all I can for the server in my last months. I won’t live here just as I would live as a dog. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth inflicting, knowing exactly the harm I’m bringing and wanting more all the same. And that’s in the case that everyone here is magically okay with being stalked and tortured to death until I crack regardless, no, I refuse to believe even you would want to live like that.”

Cub stared at Mumbo for a long moment, searching, though for what Mumbo didn’t know. “You’re guilty,” he mumbled, like this wasn’t obvious, “You think you deserve to starve.”

“Of course,” Mumbo replied, struggling between his own shame and the hot anger simmering below his skin.

“I don’t think so,” he said, like it was just that simple. Mumbo opened his mouth to argue, or maybe just scream, but Cub interrupted him, “Regardless of what you are now, Mumbo, you are not human. You can take the shape of a person, you can do and feel the things that people do, but you are not one, not really. You’re something else. This ‘something’ doesn’t have a name, but you have different needs. You are not a person. Why is it so evil for you to take what you need, Mumbo? I mean, sure, you can’t expect to take what you need from the friends you’ve made and keep those friends all the same, but you are not bad for taking. You are hungry. You are hunting, and you are eating. It’s callous of humanity to consider themselves above this dynamic of the food chain. We are not. Nor are you, most likely. There’s always a bigger fish.”

“It’s not the same. I am far crueler than any animal you can name, and I know better.”

“Do you think dolphins deserve to suffer for hunting fish?”

“Cub, I told you it’s-“

“Many things eat their prey alive,” Cub interrupted coolly, “You found a renewable source of food, one that feels emotions stronger than any other options, comes back to life, and fears you greater each time. You are not a person, Mumbo, you are a predator that hunts people. It doesn’t matter if you ‘know better.’ You need to eat. You need it. Talking ethics, if you want to ease your guilt, you should limit the time you spend interacting with people in the body you’ve made for yourself, but even then, you’re only preparing yourself a better meal. It is not evil. People can hate you for it, but that’s not any different from how a rabbit might hate a fox. It is not any different.”

Mumbo quieted, knowing little of what to say. It was different. It was different because Mumbo hated doing it, he hated having to do it, he hated fighting with himself, and he hated being This. He liked people. He liked being a person, he liked living among them, he liked it all so much more than he liked himself.

“But I don’t want to. I don’t want to need it. I want to stay here, stay human. I want to be human. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Well,” Cub said, voice softer, sympathetic for the first time since Mumbo had joined him on his desk. “That’s a separate can of worms, isn’t it.”

Mumbo didn’t speak for a long time. He kept his eyes closed. He didn’t want to see Cub. Cub, who was looking at him, looking directly through him.

“I guess so.” The words were so quiet, they hardly passed Mumbo’s lips before they were nothing.

“Well, here’s what I think, Mumbo,” Cub started, the softness dissipating in favor of something calmer, more logical, “I think you have a lot to say about what will or won’t keep you sentient longer, but for someone so confident cannibalism won’t work, you certainly haven’t tried it. So you’re going to try it. See if this can be a temporary possible-solution until we can find a more permanent one. I need time to work this out, and I refuse to let you keep starving yourself out of shame.”

“You- What? You think you can-“

“I don’t think I can do anything,” Cub interrupted, voice hard, “But those woodland mansions have a hell of a lot of books, and I happen to enjoy looking through them. Scar and I are always looking for something to do. So.” Cub looked back at Mumbo from where he was staring out the window, “Are you willing to try? It’s a little cramped in here, so I think it would be better to go somewhere else, somewhere I could run from you, if you like that. Outside might be ideal as well, so we don’t have to clean up so much. We could probably-“

“I- Wait, Cub, please wait,” Mumbo needed to interrupt him, needed to stop him, but when Cub did stop, waiting for Mumbo to continue, he found his mouth dry.

“What.”

“I can’t. Not yet. I’m not ready.”

Cub looked just about ready to kill him, and honestly Mumbo didn’t blame him, but the mental block was still there, he was just so- he didn’t even know, and maybe that was the worst part. He was scared. His limbs were stiff and numb, and even with the shrill screams of desperate starvation in his ears, he couldn’t bring himself to move.

Cub took a long, deep breath, barely holding on to his composure, “Mumbo, if we don’t do something to stall for time-“

“Eat me. Eat me first. Do it all, everything I would do to you, draw it out, make it hurt. I need- I need to know how it feels. I need this.”

Cub paused, eyes narrowed in thought. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Mumbo. You don’t need more excuses to back down. I’ve had my fair share of being torn apart, you don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’ll do it. I promise I’ll do it, I’ll eat my whole damn fill if you want me to, Cub, but I need this first. I have to know.” Mumbo had no idea where this had come from; the feverish desperation, but now it was all he could think about, knowing, he had to know, he had to face what he’d done directly, and then he could swallow this pill and move on.

Cub considered him, eyes still narrowed.

“Alright. Fine.” he closed his eyes, inclining his head then opening them with a smile, “We’ll do it in the labyrinth.”

[angelstate]

(Don't) Say You're Sorry, Please.

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem! reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Happy Ending!

Warnings: harsh argument, cursing, mention of alcohol and reader getting drunk, explicit emotions, symptoms of mental illness.

Summary: you and peter were no longer happy, it took a big fight, harsh words and some time apart to realize how much love you felt for one another.

Words: 3k!

you didn't know how it got to this point, when the calmness of a silly discussion turned into a heated argument and a silent competition of who could scream harder horrible things to the other.

It got to the point where you had been crying for so long it was hard to breath and your eyes sting every time you blinked, it felt as if your stuck in the middle of a panic attack and couldn't get out of it no matter what you tried to do.

You didn't even remember when everything went wrong and you ended up here, it was like all your memories had been swept away and now there was a recognizable emptiness that the both of you shared.

you knew everything but could remember nothing.

you didn't had what it took to fight like this with Peter. You didn't have the voice, the feelings or the calculated thoughts to defend yourself.

You threw weak attempts of calming the situation but nothing worked so you let the venom that was boiling in your chest spill over and make you say things you would regret.

The love was long forgotten.

"just shut the fuck up, peter! for once in your fucking life shut the fuck up. You aren't the voice of truth all the fucking time, sometimes you are in the wrong, get over it for fucks sake!" You screamed at him and pulled your hair in an attempt to let out some of the anger you felt.

"i should shut up?! You're the one who acts like a fucking bitch all the goddamn time. You are fucking insufferable, i swear to god sometimes i can't fucking understand why i even put up with your shit!" peter screamed back at you, he was pointing at you the entire time. blaming you for this.

"you put up with my shit?! I'm the one who has a fucking super hero for a boyfriend. If anyone is putting up with shit is fucking me!! You always get hurt and put yourself in danger. you run to saves stranger from small fucking crimes, but who takes care of me?! You love playing hero but always end up getting hurt, What is going to take for you to realize that you are not prepared to save anyone!!" You screamed as loud as you could everything that came to your mind.

You were so done with this shit, with the argument, with the super hero bullshit. It was draining, being there to help peter get healthy every time he got hurt stopped being out of love but obligation.

While he took care of the city you were left to take care of him, but who was making the time to take care of you? Nobody. Nobody was taking care of you.

"i'm not prepared?! I have saved the world more than once! I've gone through hell trying to keep everyone save!! Im more than capable of saving people from small shitty crimes!" peter said trough gritted teeth.

"then why, tell why the fuck you can never help me?! Why you can never save me?! Am i not worth your stupid help!!?" you felt tears starting to leave your eyes harder than ever.

You knew that there was no way you could ever recover from this fight and be like you were before; this was a breaking point that was long time coming in the relationship.

"i don't help you?! every second that I'm not being spiderman im by your side fucking teaching you to not fuck up like you always do!" Peter screamed and raised his hand, closed his fist before letting his arm fall back down.

"you are so full of shit" this time you didn't shouted, your voice was trembling and soft, your throat wasn't prepared for any more screaming.

"you are so full of shit, Parker. we are never together, if you're not being spiderman you're busy doing shit to get better at being a super hero. You are never here for me. Im sorry that when i see you after a long time i want to tell you how my life has been. Im so fucking sorry i want you to be here for me." Your eyes filled with tears again your vision was blurry because of it but you didn't let any more tears fall. This wasn't worth the pain.

"im full of shit for being a super hero? Im so sorry if I'm not here because im saving people's life. I have so much shit going on that the last thing i wanna hear is more problems you want me to fix. I am so fucking sorry i can't fix your fucking life, you won't believe how much bigger problems i have to deal with outside of this fucking room" peter spoke his voice was stern.

In that moment, you realized something. You weren't his first priority. You weren't even on the list of things he worried about.

Why were you still here with him? Why haven't you walked away from a place you clearly weren't wanted in?

You loved peter so much to the point you forgot that he should love you too to be together.

"i think we need a break from each other" you whispered and rubbed your eyes to get rid of the tears.

Silence.

Peter didn't said nothing, just stood in the middle of your room looking completely lost. his eyes for the first time tonight filled with tears and his lower lip quivered in what you could only describe as pure sorrow.

"you don't mean that" peter said and tried to get close to you but you took a step back and embraced yourself.

"it's for the best, peter." you reassured him. it was really for the best. This time it had gotten too far to not notice the two of you needed space.

"no no no, I'm sorry, ok? Im really sorry. Please don't break up with me" peter pleaded.

"don't say you're sorry, please. we just need some time alone." you hugged peter one last time.

"we'll fix this, right?" Peter whispered in your ear and tighten his hold on you. It was so hard to let go.

you couldn't respond, no didn't knew if this could be fixed.

peter just took in your silence and kissed you for the last time, just way to promise to not let the relationship die tonight.

___________

Three weeks had passed since the fight.

thinking back to that night felt like a dream, you could feel the guilt of everything you said weight heavier and heavier every day.

You regretted everything you said, every word you let out that night. you may have ruined one of the only good things in your life out of pure selfishness.

peter and you rarely talked, there was nothing to say, no. There was too much to say and that scared the both of you. what if one you had realized the relationship was going to be fixable?

The fear was ingrained in the both of your minds, both of you suffering because of the same fear.

"how is she?" Peter asked mj, who was concentrated eating her lunch.

"your ex girlfriend?" Mj said sarcastically and looked at peter with boredom.

"we didn't broke up" peter said quickly, the title of ex girlfriend made his heart clench in pain.

"she's sad and doesn't look good at all, Parker" she said honestly and looked at her food before continuing.

"if your dumbass checked on her you would know that" she said and took a bite of a mini carrot.

"we are taking some time apart" peter defend himself, it was true but that wasn't the reason he checked up on you. He was scared of seeing what the decision made to you.

He had shattered since that night, crying anytime he was left alone with his thoughts. He feared to see you in a worst condition than he was. Scared to see how his words bruised you.

"yeah? maybe try spend a life time apart because you don't want to see how you left her, Parker." Mj said in bitterness, you were her best friend and seeing you in pain because of him didn't sat right with her. She understood the situation but would always make the people that hurt you hurt too.

Peter just sat there, looking worried and sad.

You were feeling like shit, every inch of your mind was filled with sadness and your body reflected your state of mind so clearly it was embarrassing to go out looking like the human version of sadness.

right now, you were in one of the stalls of the girls bathroom, trying to eat your lunch but you had no appetite, you stopped feeling hungry two weeks ago.

You couldn't eat, so you took supplements like candy, trying to keep your body healthy but it didn't worked. You lost weight and looked pale.

But it didn't really mattered, nothing felt like it mattered. In your mind, you had no reason whatsoever to care about yourself or anything at all.

_____________

It was Friday night and you were drunk as fuck. not in a party, just in the solitude of your living room, lit cigarette in hand and a tall glass filled all the way with pure vodka.

the tv was on, the movie 'The perks of being a Wallflower' playing but the sound acting as a background noise because all your attention was on your phone, waiting for a message from him to pop up.

How much you wished you had the courage to message him first.

You took a big sip from the glass and felt the familiar warm spread in your chest, your empty stomach had been suffering all day and now was experiment the harshest treatment you had ever put it through.

Not even in your high school years you were careless enough to not eat anything before drinking strong alcohol.

"say you're sorry, please?" you whispered to yourself, trying to force yourself to call him, to admit your mistakes and beg for forgiveness.

You spend two hours staring at your phone, all the vodka in you glass had already disappeared and the entire bottle followed soon after; before you even realize it

"I'll say I'm sorry, please forgive me..." you whispered and pressed to call peter. you put the call on speaker and held your phone close to your mouth.

You had your knees to your chest and had wrapped a blanket around yourself, trying to stay calm and collected.

"hello?" Peter answered the call.

"hi...pete" you said, voice dripping evidence of your drunken state.

"how are you, y/n?" he asked and you heard how he sat on his bed from the way the springs made a uncomfortable sound.

"i'm.. I'm drunk" you admitted and laughed a little.

"I, I really wanted to talk to you, pete." you're voice broke, and your eyes glossed over with tears.

"I wanted to talk to you too, flower" the pet name made your heart clench.

"really?" you asked, your tone filled with the warm that the pet name created in your soul.

"yeah, i was thinking about you, i used my telepathic powers and you called" he joked and you giggled.

"thanks for using your powers, pete" you took a deep breath.

"i called because i want to tell you something" you said and heard how peter took a deep breath.

"tell me, flower. Im all ears" he spoke sweetly, so sweetly you felt your heart clench again.

"i just, i wanted to tell you that i'm sorry, i'm really sorry about everything i said when we were fighting." you took a pause and to stop the tears from falling.

"i don't 'up with you', i honestly don't even know why i said that. you are amazing to be around and i was wrong for saying differently. you're a great super hero and the fact that you put yourself in danger and get hurt just to save other people is admirable. You're more than prepared to be the biggest super hero the world has known" you let out a shaky breath, your eyes betrayed you and multiple tears fell from your eyes.

"and you're right, you do help me to not do stupid things. I just...i just feel like i'm not worth it enough of more attention than the one you give me to save me from my stupidity."

"and lastly, you're not full of shit. That's me, not you. I know you have bigger problems than giving me attention just because i feel like im entitled to your time. I feel really guilty for everything i said. Forgive me, please?" You finished speaking.

Peter was speechless, and his heart already broken heart, ended breaking completely when you bed for his forgiveness.

You beg him for forgiveness? how could you feel sorry for saying the things he needed to hear to wake up and realize he wasn't a good boyfriend? You opened his eyes when you spoke up about how abandoned you felt because of him never being there for you.

If anyone should apologize was him.

"flower..." Peter sighed.

"yes?" You responded, voice shaky and anxious.

"I'm sorry for everything i said too. I shouldn't have called you a bitch. You're not insufferable, your the sweetest and loveliest person i have ever met. i'm grateful that i have you in my life."

"and you're right about me never being there to give you anything other than help, i love you and i thought that just because you knew that i didn't have to remind you every day. you have all the right to tell me how you feel or what you're going through and i should always be there to hear you. I know that you don't want me to fix your life or your problems. You only wanted to be heard but i didn't care to listen at the time."

"thanks for believing I'm a great super hero and I'm sorry that I've been saving people without thinking about how me getting hurt so much and running to you to heal me affected you. I've been selfish in our relationship just because i wanted to be selfless and save people. Forgive me, please"

Peter asked and you took a deep breath.

"if i forgive you will you forgive me too?" you asked back, you also wanted to be forgiven.

"of course, flower" peter answered and your heart skipped a beat.

"then, i forgive you, pete." you said and felt a smile forming on your face.

"i forgive you too, flower." Peter smiled too.

All the weight you have been carrying on your shoulders was lifted just like the light on your soul, you could finally live again. No more sorrow and pain.

"I'll see you tomorrow, right?" You asked with hope.

"yeah, we'll see each other tomorrow" peter made the plan of showing up at your apartment tomorrow, make everything right and give you all the affection and time you deserved.

______________

(a few months later)

you were sleeping peacefully in your bed, wrapped up in blankets and softly breathing. It was spring break and you have spent all day cleaning so you were having your well deserved rest.

that was until you starting hearing something hitting your window, being a light sleeper you woke up almost immediately, you checked the time on you phone '01:23am'

Still being half asleep you didn't even thought about what who hitting against your window because it was obvious, you stood up, walked over to the window, opened it and turned around to lie down again in your bed.

"hi baby" you said when you were back in your bed, this time your back against the wall to give peter space to lay down with you.

"hi flower" peter pressed the spider in the middle of his suit making loose and fall of his body.

He picked up the hoodie that was on your desk and put it on before laying down beside you, almost instantly he hugged you and you wrapped one of your legs around his waist to bring him closer to you while one of your arms wrapped around his next. Your free hand started caressing his hair sofly.

"how was night patrol?" you asked, your eyelids already closing in tiredness.

"it was calm, i just helped a few drunk guys get home" peter said and rubbing your back, drawing random shapes with his fingers.

"that's good" you whispered.

"go to sleep, flower." peter whispered against your ear and tighten his hold on your waist making you be totally pressed against him, your face in the crook of his neck.

"goodnight spidey" was the last thing you said before falling asleep.

"goodnight flower, i love you" peter kissed the top of your head before falling asleep too.

The both of you finally being the happy couple you deserved to be. The love you felt for each other was no longer forgotten in the pain of misunderstood emotions, now it was more alive than ever, burning and keeping you warm and safe from all the sorrow you had to go through to be happy with peter again.

Everything was fixed and was better than the first time you started to love each other.

There was no longer pain, just peace and the comfortable bed of love the both of you slept in for the rest of your life.

How beautiful it was to love Peter, forever save in his arms.

[prettypinkporkchop]

What about Quil and his imprint having their first huge argument? Like staying at different houses, not speaking argument!

Loved the last one!!

Xoxo

You slam your empty wallet down and sigh. You grab your phone and call Quil.

"Hey! This is Quil! Leave a heartfelt message because I'm hotter than Jake."

You roll your eyes and put your phone down on the counter. You are angry! You told Quil not to take the cash you pulled out. Yes, it's both of your money, but he's been spending it on crap. You two are trying to save for a new house, and for a new car. But today, you have a doctor's appointment. (If you see a doctor for any reason, use that.) You took out cash for it, and now, it's gone.

You phone who you believe Quil would be with, because no, he's not patrolling today.

"Wassuhhh?" Jacob yells.

"Where's Quil?" You ask.

"We are currently at the casino." Jacob laughs.

----

Quil opens the bedroom door and plops on the bed beside you. You feel the bouncing but you refuse to turn and look at him.

"Baby.." He drags out and touches your waist.

You can't help it. You start to get emotional. Does nothing you two dream of mean anything to him? The house, car, kids? You sniffle quietly.

"Baby?" He grabs your side and pulls you down so you're on your back.

A tear slips down the side of your eye and to your temple. "I'm just so mad. I'm so mad I'm crying." You whisper.

He cocks his head in confusion. "What's wrong?" He asks.

"You!" You sit up and push him back.

He looks at you in shock. "The fuck did I do?!" He yells.

His yelling and attitude made you even more angry. But the fact that he's playing dumb is making you feral. He knows. This will be the third confrontation.

You scream in aggravation and then walk out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

He's quick to follow you. "If it's the money again, I'm going to be very pissed off." He says.

"Quil! You promised me our dream life. Fuck, dude! This house is falling apart. Your truck breaks down when it goes to 60. My car is almost 20 years old!" You scream and then bend down to put on your shoes.

Quil grabs your wrist. "What we have is fine! I told you we'd get there eventually!" He let's you go. "Baby, I'm keeping my promises!" He screams back, pointing at his chest.

You start to cry even harder. "You took the money I told you not to. Remember why?" You cross your arms and stare at him.

He thinks for a second, but then his eyes widen. "Shit." He mutters.

You laugh and uncross your arms, nodding your head. "Yeah. Shit. I'm leaving." You put on your shoes.

Quil stands there watching you, ashamed of himself.

"But remember, Ateara." You grab the keys off the wall, "it's not just about today. It's the shit you promised me, you spending money behind my back." You continue.

He sighs and then takes a step forward. "Yeah, and you promised me fun in our relationship. Look at you, constantly worried about money. Working extra hours just to stay away from me. If you're home, you sit on your phone."

You nod your head. "I guess we'll be better off without each other then."

"What? You're breaking up with me?!" He yells.

"No. We need space."

----

Your eyes shoot up for the fifteenth time this night. You look around the guest room in Emily's house. It's cold and lonely. You roll over and check your phone. Still nothing. You sigh and drop your phone on the bed. It bounces and hits the floor.

"Shit." You hiss.

It's a small house. Not only that, but you're here with an alpha. He's always on guard. You know a whisper could catch his attention. As you expected, a few knocks.

"Come in." You say.

It slowly creaks open, and the hallway light shines through. You see Sam peaking in, hiding behind the door.

"Is everything okay?" He asks, not entering the room.

You chuckle and sigh. "Yeah, everything is good. I just dropped my phone." You reply and then sit up.

"Oh, okay. Do you need anything? Hot tea?" He fully opens the door.

You stand up and stretch, giving up on sleep. "I'll go make me something. You can go back to bed." You smile and yawn.

"I never take orders." He chuckles. "Besides, you seem like you need someone to talk to. I know Quil like the back of my hand." He backs away from the door to let you out of the room.

You smile, shaking your head and walking past him and into the kitchen. You go through the cabinet where Emily puts her teas and drink mixes.

Sam grunts, sitting down on a chair at the table. "So, what happened?" He asks.

"Well, your wonderful wolf doesn't know how to grow up." You reply, making the drink you chose.

"Mm. None of us really do." He starts chuckling.

"Yeah. But there's a difference in being childlike and being stupid. Quil is stupid. Paul doesn't do the things Quil does! Neither does Jared. You, even!" You finish making your drink and sit at the table.

"That's true. But there are things that Quil does that you love that we don't do." Sam smirks.

He's right. Quil knows how to pull your hair up in a ponytail or bun when you're sick. He makes you laugh the most. He let's you do small things that you notice Rachel nor Kim do with their guys. That's because Quil lets you. Quil loves you.

"Did I open a new perspective?" Sam asks, knocking you out of your thoughts.

"Yes, actually." You sigh.

"Well, then, how about you go talk to him?"

"No." You deadpan. "He needs to realize how dumb he has been. It's what got us here now." You sip your drink.

Sam nods and then smiles. "He says the same thing."

You cough and look up at him in shock. "What shit has he been talking?" You wipe your mouth with your hand.

"More like his thoughts from last night during patrol. He says you're in the wrong and is trying to prove a point." Sam stops, looking away and then back at you. "But he won't shut up about how bad he loves you and wants you back."

-----

Everyone is having a picnic in the forest besides you. You are off at work, doing your own thing.

Sam thumps Quil on the back of the head.

"Ow!" Quil faces Sam. "What the hell?"

"I'm tired of hearing your head. Just so you know, I've heard both sides. You are the one who needs to do the talking first." Sam points a finger in his face.

"Now, now. It's between them." Emily says, patting his wrist.

"It affects all of us." Embry butt's in.

Quil groans and falls backward, his head landing on Rachel's sandwhich.

"Damn it, kid!" She hisses.

"Yeah, just like that!" Paul points, nodding his head in agreement to Embry.

----

You close the washing machine in your house to wash your clothes and pack some more. You're trying to move as fast as you can just in case Quil comes back. You have no clue where he is. You sit on your bed, waiting for the laundry to finish. You miss your bed. It's so comfortable.

After a while, you're finished with the laundry, so you head back to Emily's. You feel bad and feel like an inconvenience to her and Sam. But you've been doing chores and helping Emily a lot the last four days.

You put your bag on the bed and sigh. You sit on the bed and look down at the ground. You can't stop thinking of everything.

The door opens, and you look up just to make eye contact with your boyfriend.

"What?" You hiss.

"Can we talk?" He asks.

"Sure. Have you cooled down?" You move your bag to the floor, giving him room to sit.

He sighs and walks in, plopping beside you. "I have."

You lean your head over on his shoulder. This warmth has been gone for too long. You breathe in his scent and he wraps his fingers in yours.

"Babe, I'm sorry. I really am. I can explain everything to you." He says.

"Get to talking." You mumble, staying in your spot.

"I have been saving money. I didn't want to tell you this because I wanted it to be a surprise. But you're always so cranky with me and seem uninterested that it pushes me away. I even began to question if I should keep the surprise." He sighs.

You look up at him with confusion on your face. "What do you mean? You've spent everything on stupid shit. How could I not get upset with you?" You blink.

"Babe, I got a raise at work. Me, Jake, Embry, and Seth have been building our dream home. It'll be done soon. I've been spending some money on some things for you in our house. Like, bathroom organizers, decor." Every word he spills makes you feel even guiltier. "I didn't want to tell you because when the house is finished and we can move in, it'd be your birthday." He continues.

You start shedding a few tears. "Now I feel like a total asshole." You sniffle and look away from him.

"No, don't. I was acting really stupid. And that money I took from your wallet, I was at the casino. I had forgotten about your appointment and I'm so sorry about that." He takes your chin and makes you look at him. "Baby, can you forgive me?" He asks.

You wipe your face and nose and then giggle, "I guess."

He grabs your things, carrying them to his truck. You get inside, and he begins to drive. He's driving near the beach. Your heart is pounding!

He goes through this small trail in the woods. It looks like they've been working on clearing this land. Off in the distance, you see the exact outside of the house that you've been dreaming about. You gasp and cover your mouth.

"Quil!" You gush.

He chuckles and parks the truck. "You like?"

You turn to him with wide eyes. "Like?! I love it!" You scream and then wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in.

He closes his eyes, missing your touch and scent. His hand touches your lower back, holding onto you.

You get an amazing idea! You pull away from him and look into his eyes with a smirk. "You thinking what I'm thinking?" You giggle.

He breathes out and blushes. "Maybe. I think." He chuckles.

"Let's fuck inside our new home."

He's quick to move the console up and push you against the door. His lips attach themselves on yours. He's hungry for you, and you are for him. You nibble on his bottom lip before you both glide your tongues against each other's. Your fingers make their way to his dark curls, and you pull on them. You start to notice his hard against your inner thigh.

"Come on." You mumble in the kiss.

- AFTER THAT (SORRY) -

You lay on the cold floor that is soon to be the living room. You're out of breath and underneath Quil's arm. He's on his back like you, but he turns on his side to face you, keeping his arm under your head. You giggle and then cover your red and sweating face.

"You came hard, babe." He chuckles and presses kisses along your jaw.

"Phew. Yeah. Yeah, I did." You breathe out. You grab your phone that's on your clothes next to you. "Holy shit. We went for two hours."

He laughs and then touches your cheek, pulling your face to his. "That's how I work." He says lowly before kissing you.

[fancifulplaguerat]

I’m so not normal about this

The way that Artemy tries to make Daniil feel better despite not caring solely because Daniil is upset, the “you are also better-crafted than me” like Artemy is telling him not to think of himself as some worthless unloved doll because look at yourself, you’re so much more than that; just that last line the compassion the kindness in it I cannot stand this. I’m not even that into Burakhovsky in canon but this is the most romantic thing I’ve ever witnessed in my life (←light hyperbole) 

I’ve gotten too desensitized to the doll ending that I forget what a gut punch it is. That line “Strangely, there is still not a word to be heard from the Powers That Be. Perhaps they became bored of it all... or were called back home for supper” plain devastates me. Just the futility of it all, how pointless all the characters’ suffering was, in particular the healers’. Though I enjoy the theatre-framing in Patho 2, the ‘children’s game’ meta in Patho Classic gets under my skin far more, as there’s some ‘purpose’ in Artemy/Daniil/Clara suffering onstage, playing their roles for an audience. While Patho 2 implies futility with the ‘you aren’t important, you can be recast,’ that idea of ‘you are not important, and everything you did meant nothing’ hits me harder in the game framing because the healers aren’t even worth being replaced. Everything is just some kids’ make-believe that can be tossed aside when they get bored or are called away. 

But I fucking love “The Powers That Be” concept because it’s so perfectly ominous and vague. Could be anything, likely the government, but sike actually it’s two children who orchestrated your entire living nightmare. I love the subtle references to them throughout the game, too, such as a plague victim telling Daniil “I keep hearing children’s voices... the girls are crying, and the boy is laughing... We mustn’t scare them...” or Aspity asking, “Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat... Can you hear the kids running around?” And granted this might not truly be about The Powers That Be, but it certainly feels like it could be. Or the foreshadowing on Day 1 of the Bachelor Route when Daniil asks the kids, “How did it even cross your mind... to play epidemic!” And Clara directly references them when she goes underground with Artemy, warning him to talk as little as possible so “they who are beyond the wall won’t hear you.” 

She elaborates: 

“I can only feel them. They are obscure. They are the ones in charge of everything here. They’re big but narrow-souled, trying to hide their wretchedness from us. It was all their doing. They haven’t revealed themselves yet. [...] Their time hasn't come yet. They are waiting in the wings. They will probably break into the world when it ends. Tomorrow they will show themselves...” 

I highly enjoy Measly and Thrush’s presence being all over the game unbeknownst to the player and characters (excluding Clara). 

And it creates even more futility to me because there’s no catharsis of just anger against some cruel puppet-master, like I can’t be angry with these children who are just playing. Especially how they ask, “Heal the town, please! Just look, it’s so wonderful... It’s alive and it’s our favorite one... We won’t be able to make another one like this. If it can’t be helped, then it will disappear forever. You know how much we love it?” They’re just kids who want you to save something that they love; even if they can be devious they don’t really have malicious intentions. But even their fears about losing their town aren’t real and I’m just going to go outside and start eating handfuls of dirt 

[yuri-is-online]

This might just me being tired and dumb, but I kind of get how Ace having a more supportive family would lead to isolation? Like. People who have no family to rely on form their own, and that kind of bond can be beat by very little else. There's not only possibly shared trauma, but there's probably also a shared understanding that "we all we got". It gives a weird sense of hope to see someone else in your situation, someone who relates to you even a little bit, and you want more anything in the world for them to make it out and thrive, and you can trust that they want the same for you.

So with Ace, who's trauma (that we know about) mainly comes from association and the iverblot fights, it's a bit harder to make that bond. He (assumably) got all the love and support that he was supposed to get from his family. And yeah! Sure! He can still seek it out elsewhere! But it's a thing he already has, he already has somewhere to go at the end if the day for comfort.

This is actually a theme that I'm gonna play with in my 80s fic, Deuce is lower middle class, while Yuu is just a slightly glorified version if homeless. Ace is squarely middle class, if not upper middle, he never has to really want for anything. Not like Deuce and certainly not like Yuu.

Learning how to pinch for pennies and find deals are things that makes Aces life more convenient, but it's something that Deuce and Yuu need. And that's where the divide is.

He wants to take care of his friends (he's still in denial) more than anything, but he also feels like there's this weird line he can't cross, with him on one side and Yuu and Deuce on the other. It honestly doesn't help that Yuu has a separate, small friend group outside of him and Deuce that are all in the same "Shit is completely fucked right now but by God are we gonna make it out" boat. A boat that Ace will probably never be in. Ace loves his family and is grateful, and knows exactly how much he lucked out. But he still wants to have that bond. That "the world feels like it's ending but atleast we'll be going down together" type of bond. Comforting Yuu while they cry about not having heating in the winter will never be the same as having to suffer alongside them and know they were in this together. Trying to find the cheapest possible version of a food products with Deuce and discovering knock off brands that Ace would never imagine existing (who the hell made knock off cheerios?) Will never be the same as actually having to rely on those knock off and part time sales, and feeling a sense pride that they were able to save enough money this month that they could actually buy something nice. Ace probably won't ever be on that side of the invisible line.

He'll bring them to his side though. Ace wants to take care of them more than anything. He wants them in his life more than anything. And he'll have them. No matter what he has to do to make that happen.

Sorry if I missread your post and just dropped a huge angst bomb in your inbox! I just have thoughts and there are a lot of AceYuu and ADeuce moments in chapter three and one or two of them digs into this a little.

You didn't misread my post at all I swear we are sharing custody of a braincell because this is just *chef's kiss* exactly what I was thinking.

Having that solid middle class stability and parent's who genuinely love you and each other is nothing to be ashamed of, not that I think Ace has enough humility for that, but it does mean that he has a gap in his understanding for Deuce and especially Yuu's situation. I keep thinking about how he ended up eating those tarts because he skipped a meal over worrying about Yuu and their circumstances, he cares. He is crass and rude with it but he cares! I love how you say he'll bring them to his side of the line, that's exactly how I see him thinking about it.

Ace's isolation (in my view) seems to come from how much more he values his friendship with Yuu and Deuce over literally anyone else in the school. He'd benefit from talking to Jack and Epel more, they also have solid home lives and Jack at least I think has financially stable parents, but those guys aren't his people. For better or worse, for sickness or health, Yuu and Deuce are who he is sticking it out with. He'll never say it in game, but he really does love you both, in what way is of course up to the interpretation of the player.

but you know which one we both prefer frfr

[pjoxreader]

Hi!! It’s so good to see you back and in a better space :)

May I request Piper/Frank/Reyna(Separately) with a reader who comes back from the dead? Like they sacrificed themselves, but ended up getting revived through some sort of method? (Maybe they escaped the underworld, or a god some how owed them a favor, whatever you think would be fun to do!)

Reader Comes Back From the Dead 

TW: Grief, Death

((Thank you! I'm happy to be back you guys are always so kind! 🥹))

Piper Mclean

-Piper’s world had turned upside down. There were so many things she wanted to do with you, to say to you. And now she’d never get that chance. 

-She had held you in her arms when you died, she watched the life drain from your face while she could do nothing but hopelessly wail in agony. Now here she was at your funeral watching your burial shroud go up in flames.

-She couldn’t find it in herself to cry, she had spent the last night sobbing the entire night and she didn’t have any more tears left to cry right now. She could make out people giving her their sympathies, but she couldn’t make out any words. She could only watch as the flames burned. 

-She sits down by the fire wanting to stay by your side until the last minute. Leo had come over once the sun set and put a blanket over her shoulders to ensure she wouldn’t catch a cold. As she watched the last cinders of the bonfire go up to the night sky she felt the tears stream down her face once more. “Goodbye.” she chokes out softly.

-”you’re counting me out this early?” your familiar voice makes her turn quickly almost hurting her neck from how fast she turned. She was half convinced she had finally snapped and gone insane when she saw you standing there with that same dorky smile. She felt so many emotions rush through her relief, joy, then quickly anger.

-She storms over to you letting the blanket drop to the ground as you put your hands up in surrender seeing the anger burning in her eyes. “Woah, woah, hades owed me a favor so he decided to break me out and well I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone but-” you rant out quickly in panic but Piper grabbed you by the front of the shirt, yanking you down into a tender but emotional kiss. 

Frank Zhang

-Frank had never felt so… Numb. He was used to the adrenaline rush of fighting for his life against monsters, the high and lows of a quest but this? This is something he never wanted to face. Everyone knew someone in the group was going to die in this last battle. Frank… Frank had even accepted it might be him.

-But losing you? He wished it was him instead of you. The pain was agonizing, like his heart was stuck in a vice that squeezed harder and harder any time he thought of your smile, your laugh, the memories you shared together…

-Yet here he was standing in front of your godly parents' temple watching as they performed your burial ceremony. He could only watch in silence amongst his ranks as your cohort stood guard for you one last time. He could feel the pitiful looks people were giving him but he didn’t care.

-He already knew he looked awful, dark lines under his eyes from lack of sleep and crying would do that to someone. You were a hero, someone who sacrificed their own life to save not only the world but your camp. There was nothing more honorable than that.

-Frank could only watch as they brought up your last meal to be burned alongside you. Your favorite food. “Hey, don't waste that good food!” Frank could feel his blood turn to ice. Part of him believed he had just imagined it, that his mind was tricking him due to his grief. But seeing the others look up in surprise Frank worked up the courage to do the same. 

-There you were, fighting with your godly parent over a plate of food. Frank couldn’t help the choked sob that crept up in his throat. He was a Centurion, he was supposed to set an example. But his feet moved on their own as he broke rank and ran up to you grabbing you in a tight hug that you swear broke a few ribs. You can’t help but laugh at that trying to pat his back as best as you could. “I missed you too big guy.” you whisper softly and genuinely to him. 

Reyna Ramírez-Arellano

-Nothing was the same. After you had died, camp had never felt so empty. No matter how much time passed it never felt like ‘home’. She knew why, it was because you were gone. It was hard to believe it had been a month already… You had fallen to the underworld with the enemy monsters in order to ensure they didn’t reach camp and just like that you were gone.

-The camp was quiet, things had gone back to normal as if nothing happened, but there was a part of Reyna that hated that. She needed something to do, something to distract herself from the ghosts of her past, the memories of you.

-But no matter where she went she saw your smiling face. Of course she’d never tell anyone about these feelings. She was a leader, someone who others depended on. She couldn't show weakness. Not to anyone but you. And now you were gone for good...

-She had been working on leading some training drills when she heard the commotion. People chattering excitedly and running towards the gate. She hesitates but does follow after the group, mostly to discipline whoever was causing such a distraction amongst the camp. But that’s when she saw you.

-You were scratched up, had an arm pulled in a makeshift sling and dirt and grime all over your body. But Reyna didn’t care about that. The only thing that mattered to her was that you were alive. “I had to search all of the underworld for that godly gift Apollo gave me, sure enough it brought me right home!”

-The crowd split when they saw Reyna standing there, the silence deafening as she walked up to you. With a beat of hesitation she carefully pulls you into a hug, ensuring that she doesn't hurt your already broken arm. “Welcome home...” she says softly. “But you’re stuck on the night watch once you heal for that stunt.” you can’t help but burst out laughing as you hug her back. “Alright I suppose that’s fair…”

~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕