#sometimes i close my eyes (and dream i'm somewhere else)

[floralcyanide]

˚₊✩‧₊◜kinktober 2023! ―

― day eight ⛧ edging

Ethan Landry x Reader

Ethan decides to ask you a personal question, which leads to an interesting study session.

warnings: smut, edging, mutual masturbation, friends to lovers, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, masturbation, fingering, nipple play

word count: 1694

author's note: once again so sorry this is late I'm trying to catch up as we speak lol I hope yall enjoy!! I love writing for Ethan. he's so my type fr. anyway I enjoy feedback so let me know what you think!! (:

kinktober masterpost | kinktober taglist form | main masterlist | main taglist form

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

You were not expecting your best friend to ask the question he just asked. Yet, a part of you was excited because maybe, just maybe, this could go somewhere. 

“Have you ever masturbated in front of someone?” Ethan had asked abruptly, looking up from his homework with a thoughtful look on his face.

“What?” you nearly choked on your spit at the sudden and personal question.

“Have you ever touched yourself in front of, like, a partner? Or anyone else?”

“No, why?”

Ethan shrugged, “Just wondering.”

You’re now sitting in a weird silence, both of you studying without a word. Sometimes, you’ll glance at Ethan and catch him already staring at you. Clearing your throat, you try your best to focus on your task, pushing away the image of Ethan touching himself with you in the room that’s clouding your mind. 

“Would you like to?” Ethan boldly asks, and you keep your head down in your book without looking at him.

“Like to what?” you ask innocently, wondering where he’s going with this.

“Look at me,” Ethan says, “Please.”

You hesitantly look up at your best friend of many years, your face warming from how he stares at you.

“Would you ever like to fuck yourself with someone watching?”

“Why are you asking me this, Eth?” you sigh, hoping this isn’t some sick joke of his.

“Because I’d watch,” Ethan says quietly, his eyes darkening.

“And just what made you think of this? Are you watching too much porn again?” you quirk an eyebrow at him, a teasing smirk on your face.

“No,” Ethan rolls his eyes, closing his book and setting it aside, “I want you.”

“You want me?” you close your laptop and book, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Ethan says, crawling from his sitting position in front of you to hover over your frame, “I fucking need you.”

You grab Ethan’s face and capture him in a passionate kiss, sliding your tongue into his mouth to explore it. Ethan moans softly, his hands finding your hair as he lays down on your dorm bed you two were sitting on, pulling you on top of him. You rest your clothed core on his, pressing yourself into him as you deepen the kiss. Your hands are pressed into Ethan’s cheeks, afraid that if you let go, he’ll disappear and that this is some wonderful dream of yours. Ethan pulls away from the kiss and presses his lips along your jaw and neck, leaving small bites along his path. He finds the sweet spot between your ear and neck, suckling on it as he bears his teeth into the skin. You moan, moving your hips against Ethan’s as you feel yourself getting turned on. 

“Lay down,” Ethan demands, guiding you off him.

You do as told, lying beside him in your confined twin-size bed. 

“Now take off your clothes,” Ethan says, stripping himself of his shirt.

Say less, you think to yourself. You aren’t sure what’s gotten into your best friend, but you aren’t complaining. You’ve been waiting, imagining, and wishing for this moment for so long. You aren’t about to throw it away because you’re a tad curious. So, you keep your mouth shut, pull off your pants and underwear, and shimmy out of your shirt and bra. Ethan discards his clothes, too, and he can’t keep his eyes off your body.

“God, you’re more perfect than I imagined,” he sighs, wishing he could touch you.

But he wants to see you pleasure yourself with his help first.

“How do you normally masturbate?” Ethan asks, his cheeks warming from the invasive question.

“Uh,” you stutter, “I start with teasing myself just to get started. But I don’t have to do that now.”

“Why not?” 

You grab Ethan’s hand and press it to your slick cunt, letting him feel how wet you are already.

“Fuck,” he mutters, yanking his hand away, “Still, I wanna see you tease yourself. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, desperate for any form of touch, even if it wasn’t Ethan’s. Starting with your breasts, you begin kneading them with your hands, brushing your fingers along your nipples. Ethan watches closely as your nipples harden, and you start rolling them between your fingers. You moan quietly, almost soft enough to not be heard. Getting a little bold, you tug at the sensitive buds, twisting them as your hips buck slightly upward from the action. You let out a louder moan this time. Ethan’s hand wanders to his hardening cock, and he slowly drags his hand along his shaft. He picks up his speed when you slide your hands up and down your body, goosebumps rising on your skin and hardening your nipples more. Feeling hot everywhere, especially your pulsing cunt, you start circling your clit with your middle finger, a gasp leaving your mouth at the sensation.

“Fuck,” Ethan exhales, eyes flickering up to yours as you meet his gaze.

And you keep your focus on him as you slide your index finger inside your dripping entrance. You start swiping your clit with your thumb now, slowly moving your finger in and out of yourself as Ethan watches your pupils dilate. He swipes his thumb over his head, spreading the precum around to add some lubrication. Ethan’s hand is now steadily pumping his cock, and you’re astonished at how big it is. You imagined him to be a decent size, but after actually seeing his cock, you’re pretty sure he’d break you in half. You add your middle finger as you pick up speed, fucking yourself with your fingers at the same pace as Ethan was fucking himself. You both moan at the same time and then laugh at the fact. Hitting that familiar spongy spot inside you, you bite your lip as your hips jerk up. Your thumb presses harder into your clit, and you’re getting close.

“Don’t cum,” Ethan says quickly, and you look at him confused, “Don’t cum until I say.”

“Don’t cum until I say, then either,” you say sassily, “Gotta make it fair.”

Ethan huffs, “Fine.”

Now your ultimate goal is to make Ethan cum. So you add a third finger, tossing one of your legs over his to open yourself further. The sound of your arousal pushing in and out of you makes Ethan twitch in his fist, but he takes a deep breath to compose himself. You tweak your nipples with your free hand, causing yourself to clench around your fingers. You whimper at the feeling of an impending orgasm that isn’t allowed to come yet. So you stop teasing your breasts as much, much to Ethan’s dismay. You watch as Ethan reaches down to his balls, rolling them in his hand as he fucks into his hand, mouth agape in pleasure.

“Is pretty boy gonna cum too early?” you tease.

“Nope,” Ethan shakes his head, “Are you?”

“Nuh-uh,” you say, “I can last a while.”

“Not with my cock, you won’t.”

A wave of arousal washes over you at Ethan’s words, and you move your hand from your nipple to your clit, rubbing it with two fingers. You’re so close it’s almost painful.

“I wanna cum,” you pout.

“Not yet,” Ethan says, hiding his own frustration the best he can.

You groan, adding a third finger to swipe at your clit you keep your speed slow. Ethan is getting close too, and his cock turns an angry red at the lack of release. For the third time, you feel the familiar rush of arousal begging to wash over you. Your clit was throbbing, and your walls clenched desperately around your fingers. You slide a fourth one inside you, staring into Ethan’s eyes as you do so.

“See what you’re doing to me?” you whine, “I can never take this many usually.”

“Mmm,” Ethan closes his eyes for a moment, “All stretched out for my big cock now, huh?”

“I’ll let you fuck me if you let us both cum.”

Ethan’s eyes fly open, “Fine. But you can only cum if I’m inside you. So work yourself up until you can't take anymore.”

You bite your lip to keep from retorting and start rubbing your clit with your whole hand as you fuck yourself with four fingers, curling them into your g spot. Ethan jerks his hips forward, letting himself get lost in the tightness of his hand, imagining it’s you.

“Ethan,” you warn, breathless.

You don’t have to say anything else before Ethan climbs over you, snatching your hand from your pussy and putting it in his mouth. He sucks your juices from your fingers as he pushes himself inside your gaping entrance. Your cunt happily clenches around him, sucking in his length and girth without a hitch. Your hand on your clit is switched for Ethan’s as he vigorously rubs it and starts moving in and out of you quickly, your highs building back up. He pushes your legs as far apart as they’ll go, spreading your lips open so your little bundle of nerves is more accessible, and he goes deeper inside you. Ethan is fucking you hard and fast and hitting your cervix at the perfect angle enough that you feel your orgasm coming on quickly.

“I’m,” you say, and then your words fail you as your body shakes and you gush around Ethan, your cunt clenching hard around him as your orgasm rips through you.

“F-fuck,” Ethan drawls, pounding into you as you ride out your intense release, almost an hour of edging making it a long one.

Ethan stills inside you and cums hard, his release painting your velvet walls white. He shudders, and then panic washes over him.

“Are you on something? I forgot to ask-”

“I’m on the pill,” you say breathlessly, your chest heaving, “You’re all good.”

“Thank God,” Ethan raises his brows before pulling out of you slowly, watching as the mixture of cum and arousal seeps from you. 

“That was so hot,” you giggle, “What got into you?”

“You were right,” Ethan lays down next to you, “Too much porn.”

“Well, now you don’t need porn,” you joke, “You have me.”

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[misc-obeyme]

I just saw the event and I hope I'm not too late but Lucifer x MC requests w/ author's choice maybe?

Hello there, my friend! You are not too late, in fact, your request was the first one I received!

Soooo since it was author's choice and we're talking about Lucifer, I went with fluff. Because soft!Luci is one of my favorite things ever. So here are some general fluff headcanons about him.

Thank you for participating!

COZY COMFORTS EVENT

GN!MC x Lucifer fluff headcanons

Warnings: none

Lucifer notices everything about you. It isn't just the way you mesh so well with his family. It's the little sparkle in your eyes when you tease him. It's the way your voice changes slightly when you say his name. It's the light touch of your hand seeking his when you're nervous.

Lucifer shows his love in quiet ways that may be missed by anyone else. He will give you things you need before you realize you need them. When you're struggling, he will show up beside you to lend a hand without you needing to ask.

Lucifer will bring you flowers, but they'll be the rarest and the most beautiful. Arranged spectacularly in a beautiful vase that you keep in your room. It's regularly refilled with new bouquets from him.

When you're at RAD, he'll stop you in the hall just to check in with you. He might ask you something about his brothers, but his true motivation is to make sure you're doing all right. He'll tell you to come to the music room when you get home because he wants to spend more time with you. You'll find him waiting with a bottle of Demonus and a soothing record (one that isn't cursed).

You're certainly the only one that Lucifer would even dream of allowing to touch his wings. It's a special moment when your fingertips brush against the soft silken feathers. You try not to react when you feel him tremble slightly beneath your touch.

He's always busy, doing paperwork, being summoned to the castle, spending his hours at RAD doing council work. And yet he always takes a moment to speak to you alone. His ruby eyes roaming over your face, like he won't ever get enough of looking at you.

You sometimes wish you could tell people who fear him what he's really like. How he'll carry you to your bed any time you fall asleep somewhere else in the house. How he reaches for your hand when he knows you're feeling uncertain or afraid. How he'll hold you all night if you've had a rough day. How he'll admit to you that all he wants is for you to be happy.

No one knows Lucifer the way that you do, but you're surprised to find that no one knows you the way that he does, either. He lets it slip occasionally, just how aware of you he is. If he's had one glass of Demonus too many, he mumbles about the color of your hair and the particular curve of your smile.

When you're alone, Lucifer will kiss you and kiss you and kiss you, needing you more than he's needed anything in his long life. He'll fall to his knees at your feet, overcome by how willing he is to do whatever you ask. He begs you to touch him, to know him, to let him know you. He needs you, MC. Don't let him falter.

You don't. You stand beside him in all things, whether you're alone with him in his room or among the rest of the student council at RAD. It's a little daunting to think that you are the stability that Lucifer leans on. That after all the years he's been working and fighting alone, he now has you to hold onto.

Lucifer will catch your eyes from across a crowded room just to give you a confident smile. It's the one that says he knows he's on your mind. It's his way of saying you're on his, too. He wants you to know he's thinking of you. He wants to make you blush slightly from his regard.

Your love is a tender thing that Lucifer holds close to his heart. He knows how quickly he could lose it, how quickly he could lose you. All the power in the Devildom might not be enough to keep you with him forever. But for now, he will worship every single part of you, every day of your life.

cozy comforts | masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[iihandsiiheavn]

ʚïɞ "a podium to celebrate", pt II. OP81

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⋮ fluff. word count: 1.4k. ʚɞ part I here.

⠀✧₊⁺ oscar piastri x aria giuseppe (red bull driver!female oc)

summary: aria and oscar late night after the hungarian gp.

warnings: pure fluff but badly written, i am sorry. taylor swift references, max verstappen as a special guest, could have ended in smut but the writer didn't feel like it should.

"Where are you going?"

Aria cursed under her breath as she heard the neighboring door creak open, revealing her teammate’s face, grinning mischievously.

"Fuck off," she whispered, her backpack light on her shoulders as she glanced back at the driver over her shoulder. "Go to sleep. I got more points than you today. Go mull over that."

"Calling Christian right now... Babybull is leaving the hotel, and I bet she’s headed to McLaren’s. Should I guess the room?"

Verstappen pretended to be on the phone, teasing the younger driver, making her step back and playfully swat at his arm.

They were good friends. Ever since Aria debuted in Formula One, Max had been someone she looked up to and a fun coworker. She knew he was joking as he watched her leave.

"It's easy to guess the room; you'd be the one sneaking into their first driver's. I've read about it on Twitter," she taunted, giggling as he rolled his blue eyes. "Fuck off, Max. Go to bed. Leave me alone.

"You'll be alone with the winner. Let me at least crack a joke!" he continued in a playful tone, watching her resume walking. "Wishing my mate Piastri good luck — you've got too much energy."

"I'm sure he can keep up," she quipped before heading to the elevators and out of the building.

Sneaking off was something both the Red Bull and McLaren drivers were used to doing; it was all fun when they had days off and could freely be around each other. But there was also the thrill of leaving their own hotels just to see one another, and that’s where Aria was headed now. A rented car waited for her just outside, and the drive to the hotel where the McLaren crew was staying was quick — nothing like a GP lap, but close enough.

She knocked softly on her best friend's door, which opened to reveal a soft smile before she jumped into his arms.

"Hello, Formula One Grand Prix winner... How are we holding up?" Her tone was sing-song, arms wrapped around the Aussie’s neck as he lifted her by the waist.

"We are actually... having pizza and drinking soda for the celebration, and... whatever else you might have in mind."

Aria giggled as he carried her through the suite, making sure to discard her backpack somewhere on the floor. They did this every now and then, even on nights that could’ve turned into wild parties. While the other RB-MC duo might be headed to the club, these two would be headed to the couch.

They had known each other since their karting days, when it all started with a humble Oscar and a small-but-fiery Aria. He had always been too nice for the go-kart tracks, and she had felt the same protective instinct around him; a special kind of care he sometimes felt unworthy of.

Then things grew, just like they did. Formula 2, testing in better cars, and finally, the dream became a reality. They were still there for each other, spending nights together, celebrating wins, or keeping vigil after losses.

A lot had changed since the beginning — not just the karts evolving into complex, expensive machines. Like the way their lips touched so naturally now. Aria cupped the Aussie’s face before pressing a quick kiss to his lips, a simple peck they always played off as a joke. They handled things better that way.

"Alright, Mr. First-Win, put me on the couch so I can lay down and watch our new edits. Let’s go." She tapped the boy on the shoulder, prompting him to carefully place her on the sofa.

"Taylor Swift songs as requested." he teased, kneeling on the couch, his knees on either side of Aria’s body before he laid his head on her chest, waiting only a second before her fingers found their way into his hair.

Physical intimacy — that was them. They had their moments with no clothes on, nights that vanished too quickly, or touching each other in ways that ignited a fire. But there was something special about moments like these, too.

Just existing around each other, finding comfort amid their crazy, rushed routine — being each other's safe place. That was it, simply put.

"Yes, yes. Taylor Swift songs. ‘Daylight,’ please, dear Lord. Let a teenage girl edit us to the bridge of ‘Daylight,’ please." Aria joked as usual, while Oscar giggled on top of her, watching her TikTok before she searched for their names in the search bar.

"This is just crazy. Do you ever think about it?" Oscar’s voice dropped at least an octave.

"About how cute we look on podiums? And talking to each other in the paddock?" she teased, her fingers tracing soft lines on his scalp as his hands rested on her sides.

"About how people think they’re making things up about us when it’s actually... real."

They had made a deal ever since their friendship started including kisses and waking up naked in each other’s beds. It was easier without the public's eyes on their personal lives. But still, people insisted on "making up" a relationship for them.

They did it with any two drivers who ever looked at each other, so why wouldn’t it happen to the one duo that was always together? Driver’s parade? Leaving the paddock? There was even a clip of Aria waiting outside McLaren’s motorhome as if she were Romeo waiting for Juliet.

However, she had only one thing in mind. "Real."

"So we’re real." A little smirk tugged at her lips, which Oscar couldn’t see, but there was no way he didn’t know her well enough.

"Stop smiling." he chuckled, his own lips curling up. "We were always real, Aria. Quit this talk."

"Real like... edits of us with that Zayn song? Look at us, look at us!" She shoved her phone in his face, the screen flashing edits of their moments earlier that day, set to the song.

But Oscar was quick to notice things, especially when it came to Aria. She ran from deep conversations and would joke her way out of anything, even if she had to joke all the way to heaven to avoid uncomfortable topics.

"Real like real. Real like really, really, really real." It had been on his mind ever since the cool-down room. It was.

"Hmm... Yeah." Aria mimicked the probable hours of footage of Oscar making these same sounds, and he couldn’t help but laugh softly as he raised his head just enough to see her. "What do you mean, Osc?"

Oscar was trying to get to three simple words.

But Aria made it so hard to get to that point. They had said it before, they did every now and then. The challenge was fitting the words into what they truly meant.

Not as a friend, not as someone who grew up with you, not as the fan they were of each other — none of that.

"You don’t?" He raised his head a little more, moving up her body in a funny way just to be closer. "Aria, you know I would’ve had a very, very strange first win if it wasn’t for you, right?"

"Nah, I just did the world a favor by soaking you in champagne. You won the race, remember?"

"Stop joking, Ri. I’m serious." His thumb caressed her chin, his eyes roaming over her face. "You’ve been doing this for me for years now — you’re always there."

"Because I always win." A forced, playful smile tugged at her lips as Oscar lightly rolled his eyes. "That’s what we do for each other, Osc. Stop. No need to say anything."

"Hmm?" At this point, he was lost, focused on how her eyes crinkled when she smiled, how her lips moved with her Italian accent, and how it felt to be on top of her. Just existing. "You know what, Aria? I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a—"

No need to finish. There wasn’t a need to say it because they had always known. Her lips crashed into his like a car into a wall. Everything went silent as her hands found their way back into Oscar’s hair, caressing the soft locks as his body lifted slightly.

The kiss deepened, a rush of emotions pouring into it. A tender feeling, yet filled with passionate intensity.

He was still on top of her, but no longer lying down. One hand balanced on the sofa, while the other hooked around the girl's neck, their bodies pulled closer, as if afraid to let go.

Every second seemed to stretch, filled with the sweetness of the moment as they melted into each other, the kiss saying everything Aria didn’t let Oscar say.

"I know you love me," she whispered, still close to his lips as they both gasped for air. "Because I love you too."

ʚïɞ

[saintlucretia]

Devil Wears a Suit

part Ⅱ

Pairings: Outpost!Michael Langdon x Female!Reader

Warnings: Blood, Mention of murder, Sexual harassment?, Explicit content, Curse words, Hot devil's son, Not proofread.

A/N: I tried my best, hope you enjoy.

A long night passed and the morning came. Well, if you can trust the clock. There were no windows at the Outpost for sunlight to penetrate the room, although even if there were some, it would not matter since after the bombs the sun disappeared behind a thick wall of fog. Fog of death.

I woke up with chills and sweat. Something haunted my dreams all night, making me shiver like a little lamb. Even though it was an unpleasant feeling, it added color to a pathetic parody of life that I have been having for the last 18 months.

Yesterday’s events bothered me. Moreover, they annoyed me. It was bright as day, that Langdon was messing with all of our minds, yet some part of my silly brain wanted me to believe that I was truly special. That he saw something, that no one else could.

I slowly walked to the bathroom. My bare feet touched the cold marble and I involuntarily shivered. I was tired. A mess. I washed my face and sighed, looking at myself in the mirror. Suddenly I noticed a motion somewhere behind, I turned my head and flinched. Snakes. They were crawling from the bath. Devilish creatures hissed showing me their poisonous fangs. I quickly ran out of the bathroom shutting the door behind me. What the hell? I caught my breath and sat on the edge of the bed. Are there snakes in my bathroom? I felt like I was going insane. Something cold touched my feet. Snakes. I jumped on the bed with a gasp. My closet and floor near it were full of them. They swarmed, intertwining with each other. Dozens of snakes. The other second I was already at the door, running to the hallway. Still barefoot in a white Victorian nightgown that Ms. Venable made us wear. I backed away from the room door and my back hit something soft. I turned around quickly, facing Michael Langdon's piercing blue eyes.

“Something wrong, Ms. Y/S?” he asked, preventing me from falling.

I stared at him for about a minute before words rolled out of my mouth.

“Snakes. There are snakes in my room.” My voice was hoarse, my fingers dug into the sleeves of his jacket.

He was clearly amused by my state, studying my expression. Langdon chuckled, "Oh, really? Snakes, you say?" His eyes shone with a sly glint. I watched as he pushed me aside and glanced toward the room I had just run from.  

"May I?" he asked, and entered the room without waiting for my reply. I slowly followed him. To my horror, as we entered I saw nothing. Snakes were gone. Impossible.

“They were here. I swear to God they were here.” I mumbled looking around the room.

I noticed Langdon’s face contorted in hostility. 

“Don’t say such stupid words, Ms. Y/S. It’s unnecessary here.” 

I closed my face with my hands and sighed. Considering my appearance and edgy state, I totally looked like a mad woman. Nobody believes a mad woman.

“I believe you,” Langdon said, approaching me as if he read my thoughts. “Strange things sometimes happen. But it’s just… interesting that it happened in your room.” 

"What do you mean by that?" I furrowed my eyebrows, my gaze searching his face.

“You probably know that snakes have always been representing sin. It’s their main dignity. Servants of darkness… if you believe in symbols, of course.”

I let his words sink in briefly, my gaze drifting to the ground lost in thought. Snakes… sin… Snakes slithering in the garden of Eden… temptress Eve... I understood where he was going.

I huffed at that, scoffing. "Is that your way of calling me sinful? A corrupted soul? Please, spare me the Bible lessons."

Langdon raised an eyebrow at my comment, a playful smirk on his lips. 

"Oh, I'm not calling you sinful," he said, leaning against the nearby wall, his eyes roaming over me from head to toe. “But as you said it… it would be amusing to see you getting corrupted.”

I rolled my eyes. "Then what are you calling me?" I retorted, my voice betraying a hint of irritation. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to regain some composure.

Langdon chuckled at my defensive stance. His eyes gleamed with amusement. He pushed himself off the wall and slowly approached me.

"Are you always so feisty in the mornings?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

I gulped as he came closer, a mix of annoyance and something else stirring inside me. His intense gaze made me feel cornered and yet, strangely… excited? My breath hitched as he was now standing directly in front of me, the space between us barely existent.

He raised his hand, a single finger tracing an invisible line down my cheek. "Or is it just my presence that gets you going?" he murmured, his voice dripping like honey.

The touch of his fingertip felt like a small electrical shock to my system. I tried to control my breathing, determined not to let him see me flustered.

"Your presence is hardly something exciting," I retorted, my voice a bit shaky. "It's more... irritating."

He smirked at my response. His finger trailed lower, down my jawline, and stopped at my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze.

“Well, as I recall it was you, who fell into my arms with fear, m?”

I hated how his words were effective. I hated how true they were. I hated myself for being so affected by his presence.

I tried to compose myself, my jaw clenched tightly. "I was just surprised," I mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, but my heart was beating too hard for any nonchalance. “There were snakes all over the room.”

Langdon chuckled, his thumb left my face and he slowly started walking toward the door. 

"Indeed there were," he replied, casually leaning against the door frame. He seemed relaxed as if the topic was of no real importance.

I watched him for a moment, trying to decipher his nonchalant behavior. He was enjoying this, the way he was playing with me. The way he was playing with everyone. 

"Are you going to explain what happened here, or just act like it's normal for snakes to appear out of nowhere?" I asked, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice.

Langdon chuckled at my question, that arrogant smirk never leaving his lips. "Isn't the mystery part of the thrill?" 

He walked out, closing the door behind me, leaving me again excited and annoyed. Silence engulfed the room after he left. I was left standing there, my heart pounding in my chest, my mind replaying the events that just occurred.

I sighed and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge with a thump. The silence was deafening, the only sound being the steady beat of my heart. I couldn't shake off the feeling of… anticipation. Anticipation for the next time I would see him. That son of a bitch.

I quickly dressed up and went to the day room. We didn’t have breakfast there. We barely ate at all. Some kind of nutrition cube at lunch and water. Balanced diet. 

No one yet tried to break the rules of the house that Ms. Venable had set, so when I entered the room almost everyone was already there. Same people, same walls, same music. I was going insane.

I took my usual seat, the conversations around me blending into a dull murmur. I felt suffocated as if I was drowning in the monotony. All I could think about was the next part of the interview with a representative of the Cooperative. 

Sanctuary could be a lie, who can verify that? All this can be a way to manipulate us. Even Ms.Venable was afraid, she didn’t trust him but obeyed. We were a flock of sheep in a pen with a hungry wolf. 

I was lost in thought when I noticed someone settling into the seat beside me. I turned my head to see Mr. Gallant.

"You seem lost in thought," he noted, his voice soft. "Everything alright?"

“Yeah, just… had an unpleasant morning,” I answered shortly, not wanting to tell him anything. I replayed all morning and yesterday's events in my head again and felt anger in my body. It made my blood hotter. 

He had no time to answer, as Ms. Venable walked into the room. Her presence immediately silenced the conversations. Her expression was stern, and she scanned the room with a critical eye.

"Good morning," she began, her voice steady and authoritative. She leaned on her cane and raised her voice a bit. “Today we are having a special treat. Don’t be late for lunch.” She turned from us and slowly started walking away, her heels echoing through the walls.

“Oh, by the way,” she stopped for a second but hadn’t turned her head. “Ms. Y/N, Mr. Langdon is waiting for you in the interview room.” She said harshly as if his name was disgusting to her.

I could feel the eyes of the others on me as they turned their gazes in my direction. I stood up slowly, trying to seem unbothered.

The walk to the interview room seemed longer than usual, the silence only interrupted by my footsteps and my rapidly beating heart. I will beat this motherfucker.

I knocked on the door of his cabinet and entered. There he was, sitting on the table, as he was waiting for me in that position intentionally. His pose was casual but deliberate. His gaze met mine, a smirk on his lips.

"Ah, Ms. Y/N," he greeted, his tone mocking yet playful. "Sit down please." 

I tried to retain my composure, refusing to let him see any hint of my nervousness. I sat down in the chair opposite him, trying to maintain some distance, yet feeling the closeness of the cramped room.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice steady but cold.

“Well, It’s the second part of your interview-” He began but I interrupted him. 

"Cut the act, Langdon.” I snapped, my voice coming out harsher than I intended. “This psychotic bitch with her ridiculous rules is already sucking our blood, I don’t want another arrogant dick here, who thinks he can intimidate us. We both know this isn't a real interview. Even if Sanctuary is true, selection is just part of your manipulation." 

Langdon raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Oh really?" He stood from the table and slowly started to circle me, like a shark circling wounded man in the water. I instinctively followed his movements with my eyes. "And why would I come to the Outpost then?" He stopped behind me, leaning closer, his breath warm against my ear.

I felt my breath hitch as he came closer, his breath sending a shiver through my body. I resisted the urge to lean away, instead sitting ramrod straight in my chair.  

"You tell me," I retorted, my voice betraying a hint of the unease I was feeling. He continued to circle me, his presence making the room feel even smaller.

Langdon chuckled at my response, his footsteps echoing around me as he completed his circle. He stopped in front of me. Smile gone.

“You are scared. It’s okay to be scared.” His calmness filled my mind with anger.

“I’m not.”

He smiled and leaned closer, resting his hands on the back of my chair, boxing me in with his arms.

“Of course you are,” he chuckled. His gaze fixed on mine. “And you should be.”

His arms on either side of my chair made me feel trapped. I could feel the power radiating from his body, and I had to fight the urge to lean back. I inhaled his smell, expensive cologne. Sweet, yet bitter, he smelled like dominance. It was hypnotic.

His chuckle was almost mocking as if he knew the effect he was having on me. I raised my chin defiantly.

"Why would I be scared of you?"  I retorted, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat. “You are nothing more than the obedient dog of The Cooperative.”

As words rolled out my mouth, I almost immediately regretted saying them. His smirk faded, eyes flashed with irritation and something even worse. I felt fear scratching my heart.

"Careful," he warned, calmly. "I'd watch your tongue if I were you. You don’t want to lose it, do you?”

I swallowed hard, my bravado wavering under his intense gaze. His threat lingered in the air like a shadow, and I knew he meant it. 

"I'm not intimidated by your empty threats," I managed to say, without thinking. Dumb bitch.

Langdon chuckled darkly, and the sound made goosebumps rise on my skin. Before I could say anything, his hand shot out and wrapped around my throat, not really choking me, but just enough to be a warning.

"Empty threats?" he repeated, his voice a dangerous whisper. "You think I'm bluffing?" His grip tightened slightly, causing a gasp to escape my lips. I could feel my eyes widen in panic, but I tried to maintain a brave expression. “Tsk, tsk, I can already imagine how nice it would be to cut out that pretty tongue of yours.”

I couldn't help the whimper that escaped my lips at his threat. His grip on my throat was strong, constricting just enough to make me gasp for breath. 

"You... you wouldn't dare," I somehow managed to squeak out, my voice sounding weak and fearful. 

“Oh you think your pathetic life costs anything?” he leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “I could stab your stomach and rip out your little heart with my bare hand and no one could stop me.”

His words stung like a physical blow, and I felt my heart race in panic. He was deadly serious, looking at me like I was nothing more than a nuisance.

"Please," I whispered, my voice barely audible. "Please don't."

Langdon's hand tightened the grip around my throat. He smiled at my pleading, a cold, cruel smile. 

"Begging already?" he asked, his voice mocking. "And after you so bravely challenged me."

My hands scrambled to pull away his wrist, trying to loosen his tight grip on my throat. I couldn't speak, could barely gasp for air.

His smile widened at my futile struggle, he enjoyed playing. He leaned closer, his face inches away from mine. 

"This is what happens when you challenge someone with power," he murmured. "You get humbled."

I was unable to say a word, strangled by his hand, tears starting to well up in my eyes. The room started to spin, and my vision became disoriented.

“Still, have hesitation about my authority?” he asked, his tone almost soothing.

"N-no... no..." I managed to choke out.

His hand released its grip on my throat, allowing me to gasp for air. My body slumped against the chair, trembling uncontrollably. I took a moment to recover from his grip, my heart still pounding and my breath shaky. I felt smaller under his gaze, like a mouse trapped under the eye of a snake.

Langdon chuckled at my reaction, his eyes glinting with cruel enjoyment. "Pathetic," he said, the word dripping with derision. 

I looked away, unable to meet his gaze. The feeling of helplessness was overwhelming, and I knew he was relishing every moment of my humiliation.

Langdon reached out, his fingers gripping my chin tightly, forcing me to look at him. His touch was rough, a stark contrast to the smoothness of his voice as he spoke. 

"Now can you listen to me?"

I nodded weakly, my throat still sore from his assault. Langdon saw the fear in my eyes, and his smile widened at the sight.

"Good," he murmured, his hand slowly releasing my chin.

His gaze never left me, his eyes scrutinizing every reaction I made.

"You were smart enough to figure out the whole interview thing," he said, his tone casual yet calculating. "But you're not smart enough to know when to keep that pretty mouth shut." Langdon chuckled, a twisted sound that made me flinch. "Still, I appreciate the fire," he said. "Most of the other 'interviewees' are a little too... shallow, I’d prefer most of them dead by evening." 

His eyes never left mine, studying me intently. I tried to hide any emotion.

"They all tremble before the thought of going to The Sanctuary and willing to please me in any way. But you're…," he continued. "You're unfortunately not satisfied with just being an obedient pretty face. No, you have an attitude. And that, my dear, is your undoing."

“M’sorry.” I breathed out quietly.

"Apologies mean nothing," he said smiling. "The main thing is understanding how everything works. So tell me, did you truly understand the lesson here, or does your pretty little head need another reminder?" His tone was cold and condescending, making me feel even smaller. 

The fear that had subsided slightly came rushing back, cold and constricting - raw.

"No, no, I..." I stammered. "I understand." 

Langdon chuckled. "See, now that wasn't that difficult, was it?" he crooned, his hand reaching out to trace a finger along my jawline. His touch was mocking, a cruel gesture that sent a shiver of disgust through me and I diligently tried to hide it. It was hard not to move away. He seemed to enjoy my discomfort, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“Now we can have a productive talk.” He said, turning away from me. “You have brains, I’ll give you that. So why not put them in use, hm?” 

I could feel a slight sense of relief as he turned away from me, but it was quickly replaced by a wary uncertainty. His change in demeanor was unpredictable, and I had no idea what was coming next.

"What... what do you mean?" I asked, my voice betraying my unease.

He began pacing back and forth in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back.

"You're clever, resourceful... more useful from. And I hate to see potential go to waste."

He stopped in front of me, his eyes studying me intently. I could practically feel the gears in his mind turning as he weighed his words.

"But the problem is, you're stubborn," he said finally. "And that stubbornness leads to insolence."

He leaned in, his face mere inches away from mine. The smell of his cologne hit my nose again. Crisp and masculine scent.

"And insolence, my dear," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Is a trait I don't tolerate."

“I understand that.” I said semi-calmly.

“Oh, you are a quick learner as well.” he murmured. “Good girl.” His tone was still mocking, and I hated how the praise sent a flicker of warmth through me. I tried to remain stoic, but his words were starting to chip away at my defenses. 

He stepped back, his gaze still locked on me. 

"I have an offer for you," he said. "An offer that could benefit us both, if you play your cards right."

“What offer?” 

“I want you,” he began. “To work for me.” 

“Work for you?” I asked dumbly.

He chuckled at my confusion, enjoying my surprise.

"Yes, work for me," he confirmed. "You'll be doing research, digging up information on others, doing necessary tasks, anything I need. Think you can handle that, hm?"

“But… how?” I wasn’t expecting that offer at all. And how the fuck should I dig on others?

Langdon smiled at my question, obviously finding it amusing that I wasn't catching on.

"How?" he echoed. "You seemed smarter a few minutes ago."

He leaned against the table again, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You'll be my eyes and ears, gathering intel for me. You'll tell me everything you see, hear or feel. And in return… I’ll put in a good word for you with the members of the Cooperative." 

I sat there, watching him silently.

He waited a moment, letting his words sink in. He was watching me intently, waiting for my reaction.

"I can see the wheels turning in your head," he began. "You're thinking about all the possibilities, aren't you? Life at The Sanctuary is heaven if you are friends with the authorities." He smirked.

He was right. The possibilities were spinning in my head like a whirlpool. 

But I knew there was a catch. People like Langdon never offered anything without expecting something in return. Something much bigger than collecting information. 

“What’s the catch?” 

He smirked at my question. His eyes were glittering with satisfaction, clearly enjoying his little game.

"Ah, are you always so suspicious or am I an exception?" he asked, tilting his head a bit.

“You think I shouldn’t be suspicious of the man who almost choked me to death a few minutes ago?” My tone filled with venom and I bit my tongue, afraid to anger him again.

“Don’t be so dramatic, it was just a friendly reminder” he said leaning closer to me, whispering. “And don’t act like you didn’t enjoy that, you are bad at hiding it.”

My heart skipped a beat, a mix of anger and embarrassment rushing through me. 

"Enjoy that?" I shot back. "Why would I enjoy being strangled by a sick psychopath?"

He smirked at my outburst, seemingly unfazed by my anger. 

"Now now, no need for name-calling," he said with mock hurt. "You can lie to yourself if it gives you comfort, but I saw the way you reacted, the way your body tensed, and the way your pupils dilated."

His gaze roamed over me in an almost predatory manner, making me feel exposed.

“Anyway, we have more important things to discuss than your sexual desires.” He smirked. “Accept my offer?”

His brazen, almost predatory manner was as infuriating as it was intoxicating. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment, but I refused to look away. 

"Accept your offer..." I echoed, trying to sound strong. "You haven't exactly explained the full extent of this 'job' you're offering. I need more details before I can even consider it." I forced the words past my lip.

“It’s easy. You are loyal to me and I promise you protection. It’s always useful to have an intelligent, pretty head on your side.” he said, looking me up and down. “Before me, you were all alone among bastards, but now I offer you my hand and I really don't recommend biting it.”

“So I have to become a backstabber?” 

"No, my dear, you're thinking too low. You won't be backstabbing anyone. You'll merely be... helping me to form a new society. " He paused, his expression growing more serious. "Don’t tell me you are afraid of getting your hands bloody, I saw the way you look at Ms. Venable. You are bloodthirsty."

My eyes widened at his observation. I wasn't surprised he had caught on to my hatred for Ms. Venable, but hearing him say it out loud was another matter. 

"I'm not scared of getting my hands dirty," I said, my voice firm despite the shiver that ran down my spine. "I'm just not fond of being used."

Langdon sat on the edge of the table and smiled, almost genuine, he looked at me like I was a little kid.

“Come here.” he said calmly and beckoned me with the nod of his head.

I hesitated, not sure whether to obey his command or not. I slowly stood up and walked over to him, stopping a few feet away from him. It was crazy how he was radiating comfort and dominance at the same time. 

“Closer. I won’t bite.” 

I stepped closer and his hand reached to stroke my hair.

“You are special.” His voice was surprisingly gentle as he spoke. His fingers tangled in my hair, his touch both soothing and possessive. “You can achieve a lot or… stay here and rot with others.”

His words were like a cold bucket of water, snapping me out of the odd comfort I found myself in. I knew he was right, of course. Staying here meant settling for a life on the sidelines, living in fear and boredom. Or just die.

"You don't play fair, do you?" I said, my voice tinged with irritation. "One second you're choking me, the next you're stroking my hair and promising me the world."

"And why should I play fair, hm? Rules don't work anymore here, chaos has won." He leaned closer. 

I found myself smiling despite myself. It was probably still a shock. My mind couldn't keep up with what was happening. There was a dangerous charisma to him, an irresistible charm that I couldn't quite explain.

"That’s a convenient excuse for you to do whatever you want," I shot back, trying to sound defiant. "No rules means no boundaries."

Langdon chuckled again, his smirk widening. His hand slid down from my hair to rest on my throat again, his thumb brushing against my pulse.

"Careful," he warned, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I might start thinking you're enjoying this a bit too much." I freeze. “And about the rules… I prefer bending them, instead of breaking."

I didn’t answer, waiting for him to continue. He smiled, clearly enjoying my reaction. His thumb traced lazy circles on my throat, making my pulse quicken involuntarily.

“You don’t want to die here, do you?” He whispered in my ear. “It would be a shame if such potential would remain undisclosed…” His hand moved lower, gently touching my collarbone. “In this body.”

His touch ignited a strange fire inside me. I desperately tried to ignore the way my body reacted to him, the way my heart raced and my skin tingled where he touched me. 

"You make it sound like I'm a ticking time bomb." My voice came out a little breathier than I intended.

"Oh, don’t sell yourself short, darling," Langdon purred. "You’re more like a grenade. A beautiful, deadly grenade.” His hand caressed my skin. “So… Do we have a deal, Ms. Y/N?” 

I stared down at the floor, then back at Langdon, my gaze calculating. After a few seconds I nodded. “Deal.”

“Wise.” He smiled. “Now let’s make that official.”

His left hand went to grab my waist, while the other reached out to take something from the table. Small dagger. I instinctively tried to pull back, but his grip on me was unwavering

“No need to be scared, little lamb.” He handed me the weapon with the hilt forward. 

“Official?” I echoed.

“Yes. Deal in blood.” His answer made my body flinch.

The cool metal of the dagger felt heavy and unfamiliar in my hand. 

“Aren't you afraid that I would stab you?” I asked him, trying to hide my fear.

Langdon chuckled darkly, liking the question. 

"You wouldn't dare," he said with absolute confidence. "You're far too smart and too… intrigued by me to do something so foolish."

His eyes glittered dangerously like he was daring me to prove him wrong. "And besides... I have a feeling you're far more interested in finding out what it would be like to be on my good side."

He directed my hand, in which the dagger was clutched, and leaned the tip against the palm of his left hand. “Cut.”

I watched in fascination and slight horror as the blade made a small incision in his hand, a thin line of blood forming on his palm. He didn’t even flinch, his gaze locked on mine the entire time. It awakened in me something feral.

“Now you,” he said, his voice low and steady.

He grabbed my hand, his grip gentle but firm, and guided the knife to my palm. The sharp pain was muffled by his lips on my cheek. The warm blood slowly pooled in my palm. 

He pressed his wounded hand against mine, the touch inflicted pain. The blood from his hand mingled with mine, the warmth and stickiness of it a strange and yet somehow comforting sensation. 

 "And with that..." he said, his voice hushed. "Our deal is sealed."

I felt the burning urge to press my lips to his. Without clearly thinking I leaned to his face, kissing him hungrily. He didn’t return the kiss, but didn’t pull away either. 

"Now, now, dear," he said, his voice a low murmur. "Don't get ahead of yourself. No need to complicate things…"

His gaze flicked down to my lips, his own curving into a smug smile. I was ashamed of my bold move and confused by his stubbornness. He was a man after all, wasn’t he?

"Complicate?" I repeated, my voice tinged with sarcasm. "Says the one who just made me swear a blood pact."

Langdon chuckled, amused by my attempt at irritation. "Ah, don't pout," he said, his hand moving to gently cup my jaw. 

"Just because I'm not giving in to your every desire doesn't mean I’m inaccessible.” He leaned closer to my ear. "But keep pushing, darling. I do love it when you act up, maybe next time you wil get lucky." He carelessly brushed his lips along my wound, making me whimper quietly, my eyes fluttering shut for a moment. God, he is killing me.

Langdon pulled back, a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His hand left my jaw, and I found myself missing the feel of his touch already. I leaned forward, wanting him to touch me.

"Ah ah ah," he tutted, his voice mockingly chiding. "I can practically feel your eagerness, my dear. But I'm afraid I can't have you slacking off on our deal."

He gestured lazily to the door. "You should return to your routine. Can’t have Ms. Venable catching you slinking around here for too long."

I bristled at his order, but I knew he was right. I nodded grudgingly.

"Fine."

I started to walk toward the door, my wounded hand throbbing a little from the recent events. But before I reached the threshold, Langdon's voice stopped me.

"Oh, and Y/N?"

I turned back, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

His eyes were glinting mischievously.

"A word of advice," he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Try to control that urge of yours. It's going to get you in trouble..." He paused, his gaze roaming up and down my body. "Or is it already too late?"

“Check it yourself next time,” I answered boldly and grabbed the door handle.

I couldn’t see his face, but was sure that he was amused.

"I might just take you up on that offer." I heard his smooth voice, as I left the room. "Off you go, little lamb." 

I shut the door behind me and leaned on it with my back. Probably that’s what it feels like to sell your soul to the Devil.

Have a good day <3

[lucysgraybird]

Billy x female reader where she gets the same sickness as her mother and brother but she manages to survive and he takes her to their graves (yep long hours traveling) just to share that part of his past with her because he loves her and is glad she survived because he wouldn’t have bared another lose

hiiii this is so brutally late. im sorry. ive also adjusted a little because i wanted to write it but im so bad at writing travel and couldn't figure out a way to do it that didn't feel drawn out but i can do a part 2 if u want!!

warnings: dscs of death and illness

Billy feels like he's been living in a haze. First a haze of ignorance, pretending that he didn't recognize the wet, hacking sound of the coughs you muffled into your elbow, that the way your brow bloomed with dry heat didn't throw him back into the pit of being seventeen and curled around his mother's febrile form. Then a moment of clarity, like a bucket of ice dumped over his head, when the doctor touched his elbow and confirmed consumption. Finally, and he can't decide which stage he's hated most, a thick fog of despair and desperation, rimy water dripping from washcloths down his arm in twin trails to the sweat he's wiping from your forehead, trying to convince himself of minute drops in your dogged temperature. He nurses broth down your raw throat and prayers up his own, pleas to a God he might not believe in to just leave him with something good in this world and pleas to himself to believe that this time will be different.

And he might just make a return to church, because his calls are answered. Slowly, like a slug creeping to salt, you recover. Color fades from the pyretic spots high on your cheeks and returns to the rest of your face, you sleep through the night without a coughing fit tearing you awake. The brightness in your eyes starts to look more lively and less dazed, and eventually you're strong enough to stand and bathe. Billy helps you into the tub and then opts to sit outside the door -- close enough that his anxiety isn't spiking, that if something happens he can help, but far enough that you can regain some of the autonomy that is ripped away in illness.

He'll never quite figure out why he says this. Maybe it’s the dim candlelight, coaxing the world out of reality and into a dream, a place where anything that happens will stay forever locked somewhere out of time. Maybe it’s that he wants to pretend you have the kind of relationship that demands this honesty, because you've said “‘Til death do us part” and meant it and so he owes you his greatest love and his deepest fears. He'd give you the former without question, of course, but he's still practicing that the latter is an unavoidable sidecar to that kind of devotion.

"I thought you were going to die," he says, and his stomach immediately twists in shame. You're recovering still, and here he is making it about himself. When you don't say anything, surely listening in that tranquil, soft-eyed way that you somehow always managed, he continues.

"I wish you could've met my ma. She was...good, like you. At her core, that's all there was, this sturdy kindness that I never understood how she maintained. Sometimes she'd say that when good people died young, it meant that God thought that spirit belonged more in Heaven than on Earth, and I was so scared that he got...impatient again, with you, and I was so scared that..."

Silence for a moment, then your voice, still hoarse:

"I would've liked to meet her too. She must have been quite the woman, to have raised someone like you."

Billy snorts out a laugh. "Something like that."

There's the sound of sloshing, and Billy can see the way your spine curves in his mind's eye, chest pressed to your thighs and chin rested on your knee. He can hear the way the position stretches your neck in your voice when you speak.

"I'm not letting anyone take me away from you. I don't care how much I'm needed somewhere else, I need to be here with you. You make it easy to be this good, Billy. It isn't in spite of yourself that you always manage to find warmth; there isn't a fire I've found that...exists without stoking."

Tears prickle his eyes and his throat tightens so that the next deep breath he takes squeaks like his voice is dropping again. He can't bring himself to use the crackly tone he knows is the only one he can access now.

"We should visit your ma," you suggest. "Someone's gotta tell her what a wonderful young man she raised."

"Her grave is far," he manages, though the end of the sentence cracks and so does the dam, silent tears streaking his face. In all truth, it's not outrageously far, but he's been scared to visit. Scared to tell his ma who he's had to (chosen to?) become, scared she'll smell the gunsmoke that seems to cling to his hands and clothes and memories, scared she'll meet the ghosts that have become more like his shadow.

There's the patter of wet feet on the bathroom floor and he stands with the intention of making himself scarce by the time you emerge, leaving nothing but the pale ghost of his vulnerability on the floor outside the bathroom as proof of the wall that just crumbled there. He'll calm in bed until you're done bathing, and hope for your mercy in disregarding his momentary fragility. But the door clicks open and there you are in your nightgown. There you are with your skin scrubbed clean, you with your hair in the braid you wear to sleep. There you are with tears on your face, with your arms open to him like the Virgin Mary, offering a forgiveness that he doesn't deserve. The guilt of this will carve stigmata into his hands later, nailing him to the cross of his history, but for now he takes the pity and collapses into you.

"We'll start out tomorrow," you say, overcoming the awkward angle your height difference creates to pet his hair. "I'd like to meet her. We should bring her flowers."

[rindarudoesshonen]

I'll admit it now, for anyone browsing my page: I am indeed a Christian reality shifter who has shifted before without any problems. I am still close to God, a follower of Him, and I still do these things. Why? I'm not entirely sure. But I know that God is always there for me. And never once have I had a problem with shifting.

Back before the whole Wilbur Soot drama, I was absolutely obsessed with him. I ended up shifting for a few seconds. I opened my eyes, realized that I was on a couch, and, though I didn't hear it, it was more like a knowing that he said, "Go back to sleep, darling." And I did.

Obviously I shifted back. But that's not what I'm talking about. I said almost no affirmations, rolled onto my side, listened to a few songs, and fell asleep. I originally thought that I had just seen stuff, and maybe it was my FNAF poster I have on my wall, but I laid back down in the exact position I remembered waking up in my DR in, and the poster was nowhere in my vision. The wall was white, and I had seen his silhouette when I shifted. That's how I knew.

Then, one night, I woke up again after shifting. I opened my eyes, and I saw black hair to my right. Pink hair was hanging in my eyes, and I thought, 'It's just Shota. Go back to sleep.' And again, I did.

I've shifted before, and even last night, after doing nothing but scrolling Tumblr for a few minutes, I feel asleep, and then I was in my DR house. I was sitting on the counter in the bathroom, and the shower was running. I had this sudden thought: 'I wonder what would happen if I joined him in there.'

Think about this:

All of those dreams you've had relating to your DR, all of those random thoughts throughout the day, something you'd do in your DR but not in this reality. All of that is you shifting, even partially.

I know it's hard to believe. But shifting is so easy. It really is. When you realize this, you realize that you're overcomplicating it way too much.

I know it's hard. I know you feel like you can't do it. But take a minute, take a deep breath, and realize that nothing can stop you.

You can shift when you're awake. You can shift when you're asleep. You can shift after rolling around and saying no affirmations or having no thoughts. People shift without even realizing it, without even knowing what shifting is.

So what about you?

The knowledge is what's restricting you. The knowledge of what it is, and the knowledge of knowing what everyone else is doing. It's stressful.

So think about this:

There are only two things you have to do to actually shift.

Have a single thought sometime at any point about being somewhere at some point, and having a mind in general.

Stop overcomplicating it. Seriously, take half a second to just realize that there's not a thing that can stop you.

[strayseraphine]

choice | one shot

pairing: bang chan x fem!reader

summary: The opportunity to work in the same place as your childhood best friend is a great, right? Unfortunately, it turns out that it's hard to control the emotions that have been swirling in your hearts for years when you're at arm's length. fluff, a little bit of angst, jealousy, friends to lovers, cheesy fic with our silly cute channie

The kdrama mentioned is called Tomorrow and the fic mentions about episode 5, you have been warned. Here is the song from the episode that also appears in the fic.

TW: menfions of suicide, death, depression

5 204 words

the one shot is also avaliable on ao3

bang chan masterlist | general masterlist | stranger things masterlist

Holding the handle of your suitcase tightly, you felt like a child lost in a crowd. You were breathless, and instead of slowing down, your breathing sped up and became more and more erratic.

What on earth tempted you to leave your entire life so far and fly to the other end of the world?

Then, as if on a call, a reason appeared in front of your eyes.

Despite the cap and mask covering his face, you immediately recognized him. However, not wanting to draw attention to you, you came closer and in silence went to the car, where immediately after closing the door you felt strong arms tighten around you.

"I missed you so much!" he muttered, snuggling into your neck.

"I missed you too, Channie." you laughed as you reciprocated the hug, smelling his perfume, which he had been using since you can remember. You didn't know it was possible to miss a scent that much.

"I can't believe I'm going to work with my best friend!" he said.

"First of all, you're lucky the boys can't hear it, secondly we won't."

"What do you mean we won't?"

"I, unlike you, will be locked in the office."

"But we will be in the same building! We will be able to spend our breaks together, I can bring you coffee and snacks!" he said excitedly with a wide smile on his face and squeezed your hand. You didn't complain about the fact that he didn't let go of you until the car pulled up to your new temporary home.

Two months ago, Chan called you saying that at JYP they were looking for someone for a temporary translator position. Since you were fresh out of college in the process of looking for a job, he thought you should definitely apply. Thinking little, you submitted your application.

Three weeks later, you received an invitation to an online interview, which resulted in a successful outcome and a contract signed for six months.

The experience you were able to gain working for this company was extremely valuable, but you were ashamed to admit that your main motivation for coming here was Chris. As children, the two of you were inseparable, but when he left Australia to chase his dreams both of you stubbornly made sure that contact did not disappear. When he came home on vacation you spent most of your free time together feeling as if he had never left.

Somewhere between playing together in the sandbox, sneaking out of the house for the late-night walks you used to go for when he returned to Australia during his teenage years and skipping lectures at uni just so you could spend the day and then the night with him, a strong bond formed between you.

In it there was something else to be found.

Something you both tried to ignore and push away.

Something that you were killing in each other thinking it was one-sided.

Something that you tried to keep in an iron, indestructible cage deep in your hearts.

Something that shattered the bars every time you saw each other.

The weeks at work were passing awfully fast. Your new co-workers welcomed you very warmly, meetings with Chris became your daily routine, and you felt more and more comfortable here every day. Keeping the promise, you spent all your lunch breaks together, sometimes joined by other members of the group. You quickly became part of the meetings. You even accompanied them during dance rehearsals and studio recordings. Especially Chan. Sitting with him in the studio until the morning hours and greeting sunrises together became almost a habit.

Today, however, you had the day off, while Chris had a full day of rehearsal for the gala to be held in a week's time. A strange feeling of emptiness and longing accompanied you throughout the day. You weren't afraid to admit that you were already used to his daily presence. However, you were afraid to think what will happen when you have to go back to Australia.

In order to focus your thoughts on something else after lunch you turned into a couch potato and started watching kdrama. Completely losing all sense of reality, you fully gave yourself over to the stories of the characters, which moved you to tears. You were snapped out of your trance by a phone call.

"Hello?" you said in a broken voice, not even trying to hide that you were crying. Unfortunately, the other side of the phone remained quiet and quickly hung up. Not caring much you wanted to go back to watching, but moments later Chan barged into your apartment without even bothering to knock on the door.

"Chris? what are you doing here?" you asked surprised still sobbing.

"What happened?" He asked. The sight of your heartbroken voice on the phone made his heart freeze.

"What?"

"We finished training, so I figured you were probably still awake and in the mood for something to eat, I called and heard you crying. What happened?" he explained quickly with a worried expression on his face.

"Oh god… Nothing happened! It just- It was just so damn beautifull and sad!" you laughed through your tears.

"Were you watching drama again?" he just sighed feeling small relief.

"Of course I was!"

"You almost gave me a heart attack!"

"I am sorry!" you threw a pillow in his diercion.

"Okay, okay, what was it about?" he shook his head, sitting down next to you.

"She died in a car accident, and he was someone who had to deal with a lot of deaths of his loved ones, his whole life, everyone blamed him for it! and he did nothing wrong!" you felt like your throat was shrinking. "His father blamed him for his mother's death because she died while giving birth, then when his wife died, her father also blamed him and he was in such a dark place, he wanted to kill himself, he believed them, that it was his fault!" you were ranting about character history, and he was just looking at you with a smile on his lips.

Despite the fact that your eyes were swollen and red from crying, he found something somehow adorable. Something pure. Something that made him want to hide you in his arms and kiss the tears off your cheeks. However, he quickly had to chase these thoughts away. After all, he was incapable of falling in love, wasn't he?

"And they show love in such a beautiful way here! Maybe I don't agree with "you are my whole life attitude" but in other aspects? They compare human beings to a tree, you know? People are like trees, And what matters is who makes the flowers bloom on the tree, which means your life can change depending on who you meet. At that moment she proposes to him, saying she wants to be the one to make the flowers on his tree bloom."

"A beautiful metaphor." he replied.

"Right? Later they present the red thread theory, which says that they are connected to each other and will find each other in each incarnation, which gives such a strange sense of hope! But I still think love is more of a choice than a destiny, which seems much stronger, because if I heard from someone now that I'm their whole world and their life doesn't exist without me I don't know if I'd be scared."

"How is it that you're one of the most romantic people I know, and you're afraid of such great confessions of love?" he asked.

"Imagine being in a relationship with a very toxic person, and when you want to get away from them they start threatening to kill themselves because they can't live without you. People in moments of desperation are able to go as far as anything, and love, despite the fact that it is very beautiful, can make a person very stupid." you explained.

"You are right."

"I am lucky enough to have some people who genuinely want the flowers on my tree bloom." you smiled. "You are one of them, by the way." you leaned your head on his shoulder.

"Yeah, you also take very good care of my tree." he replied without thinking. "Not only mine." he added quickly with a grunt. He began thinking about how other people feel in your company. About how there is always brightness and warmth in the room along with you. About how in his life the dark void was decorated with shining stars creating a beautiful night sky thanks to you.

"Who do you think your red thread is connected to?" you asked suddenly after a moment of silence.

"Mine?" he asked puzzled. Certainly not with the person I would like to. He thought. "Mine has probably been broken."

"I don't think so, in the show they said it only breaks at the moment of suicide. You are still here Chan, your thread surely leads to someone wonderful, as you deserve." You patted him on the knee. "Oh! there was also a very beautiful song in this episode, wanna hear?"

"Sure." He replied quietly and watched you get up from the couch to your laptop. He watched your every move, hoping to spot at least the thinnest red thread between the two of you.

"Can you focus?" Lee Know asked rolling his eyes.

"Earth to kangaroo! Where are you Chan?" added Han waving his hand in front of his face.

"I am focused, I don't know what you mean." he replied trying to defend himself.

"We have been practicing the same routine for an hour, and you are messing up the steps as if you were dancing it for the first time. " Minho squinted his eyes.

"Come on, give him a break, he is in looove." laughed Hyunjin.

"I am not!"

"We can see that there is something between the two of you, we can see how you look at her, you can't fool us, you do not look at a friend like that."

"I am not in love with y/n!" he said loudly, but without conviction. Saying those words caused him pain. Somehow saying that he doesn't love you felt wrong.

"But you know…none of us said her name out loud." said Changbin more peacefully.

"But-" Chan sighed and resignedly hid his face in his hands. For years he had pushed his feelings aside, but now that you were so close and had become an integral part of his life it was too difficult.

"Why you never let me bring her brownies that I made?" Felix laughed.

"Why do you always smile like an idiot when she sends you a photo?" I.N added.

"Let's just go back to the practice." He cut off the subject, knowing that the guys were right. Nevertheless, he knew that the moment he admitted it, nothing would be the same again, and changes can be scary.

In every job, no matter how wonderful, there are hard times. Today, some of your co-workers decided to take out their bad mood and frustration over non-functioning equipment on the team you were on. Although you knew that their bad mood was caused by the work reorganization, some unpleasant comments and remarks were particularly memorable and ruined your mood.

Due to a system failure that prevented you from working, you were told to go home before lunch, so you were not surprised to hear the sound of the phone at the hour when you usually meet.

"Where are you?" asked Chan.

"There was a system malfunction and they let us go home."

"So you won't be joining us?"

"What? Why?" Felix's voice came from the background. "But I made brownies! I brought them for you!" he took Chan's phone closer.

"Give me the phone, Felix!"

There was a commotion on the other side of the phone. You could imagine Felix running away with the phone and the guys helping him keep the leader at bay.

"Hey y/n!"

"Hey Seungmin, what's up?"

"Bang Chan misses you!" you could hear the smile in his voice.

"Tell him I miss him too," you chuckled.

"Okay, that's enough!" judging by Seungmin's mumbling and laughing, you concluded that the phone had returned to its owner.

"Talk to you later, bye!" he hung up before you had time to answer anything.

Since you had more time today, you decided to use it for cleaning, which always helped you to calm down to some extent, losing yourself in it and in the music from the speaker, you didn't know when a few hours had passed. Satisfied with your clean surroundings, you sat down on the couch, but after a while you felt a wave of fatigue hit you. With nothing better to do, you covered yourself with a blanket and fell asleep.

Unfortunately, this time the nap did not help your mood, and the sound of a knock on the door that woke you up made you even more upset. Covered with a blanket, you moved slowly toward the door. Then, as if by magic, when you saw Chan in the doorway, all your anger vanished and was replaced by…relief?

With a mournful whimper, you let your emotions carry you and without asking, you hugged him, cuddling into his chest. Surprised at first, he made no move, but he quickly woke up and you felt him embrace you. The familiar scent of his perfume created a sense of security in your mind that made every negative feeling inside you want to find an escape. Your breathing became more and more shaky as you fought back the tears that came to your eyes.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, sensing your stress. "Let it out, I'm here." His large hand began to slide up and down your back, caressing you.

"You are here." you muttered while snuggling even more into his shirt. He had the feeling that his heart was now on fire, but it wasn't the heat causing unbearable pain. It was the fire that slowly burns in the fireplace on winter evenings warming the house. Home. That's how he felt in your company.

"Come, let's sit down and you'll tell me all about it." he suggested, however, you still did not want to leave his arms. Selfishly you tightened your embrace without moving from your spot. "We can cuddle on the couch, come on." he chuckled seeing your reaction. Sitting snuggled into each other, Chan connected to the speaker and played your playlist with calmer songs in the background. It took a moment before you started to open up and talk about what had overwhelmed you today.

"I am so sorry." he murmured into your hair.

"I feel better now." you replied quietly.

"For real?"

"You are here so…yes."

A silence fell between the two of you but it was not awkward. At this level of friendship, shared silence was not something new or strange for you. The silence was broken by the sounds of another song.

"Ah, I love this song," he said. "I can't stop listening to it since you showed it to me."

"Well, I'm glad you liked it."

Along with the melody and the singer, Chan's soft and calm voice also began to spread around the room. You closed your eyes relishing the blissful moment, thinking you had found something good in this awful day. If it weren't for the nasty mood, you wouldn't have found comfort and solace in his arms.

How wonderful it would be if you could do this without any excuse?

"Do you remember when we fell asleep together like that, and Hannah took a picture of us and sent it out to all our friends and family saying that we were together?" he asked when the song was over.

"Yes," you laughed slightly at the memory.

"God, I wanted to kill her then." he also laughed.

"Why?"

"Uh, I mean its us, right? Best friends, how could anyone think we are a couple?" he replied embarrassed. This answer turned out to be a strong punch, which you had to take with clenched teeth and pretend that everything was fine.

The thing you didn't know was that what he said was just an escape from the truth. That day when everyone was congratulating you and telling you that you were finally a couple, he was afraid like nothing else that you would discover the truth about his feelings and that deep down he really wanted it to be true. Unfortunately, he did not know that you were on the same page.

Best friends, how could anyone think we are a couple?

These words haunted you for the next few days. No matter how good your mood was, they always came back ruining it instantly. They also pushed you to accepting a date to which you were invited by an employee from the marketing department. You were very often matched for joint projects, you worked very well together, you found nothing of agreement right away, but you didn't see this being blinded by Chan and your feelings for him. But since in his opinion you were just friends and had no chance to get out of this sphere, it was time to move on.

"y/n do you have any plans for tomorrow?" I.N asked, passing you in the hallway.

"I don't have until four, why?"

"We have a day off and we wanted to go shopping with Felix, why don't you go for a walk with us?"

"Sure!" the idea was good, you took it as an opportunity to buy something nice for your date.

"Cool, in that case we'll be in touch!" Maknae smiled charmingly, reminding you how similar he is to his skzoo.

"Sounds like a plan." you smiled back and returned to your desk. The rest of the day passed very smoothly and quickly for you.

Before you knew it you were already on your way to go shopping. Yeongin and Felix carefully browsed each hanger however you absent-mindedly only glanced superficially at the clothes. Your date was getting closer and closer however the less time left the more anxious and uncertain you felt. The fact that the person you were to spend the evening with was not Chan made it all seem…wrong.

How else were you able to move on?

Was it fair what you were doing now?

How would you feel if someone went on a date with you just to forget about someone else?

On the other hand, after all, that wasn't your only motive. In truth, you liked Minjun. He was handsome, kind, funny, you had many common interests, you really wanted to get to know him better.

"Earth to y/n!" the voice of Felix brought you back to reality.

"What?" you shrugged.

"Say hello to Chan!" Yeongin exclaimed happily, pointing his phone's camera at you. "We decided to show him how much fun we are having while he has to work."

"You are cruel!" at the sound of his voice you felt like you were caught in a crime. Not knowing what to do you awkwardly waved towards the camera, and then grabbed the first better dress and hid in the fitting room feeling embarrassed. What the hell is wrong with you? you thought looking at your reflection in the mirror.

"Hey, are you okay?" Felix asked lightly knocking on the fitting room door.

"Uh-yes!" you replied quickly, "I'm just trying on a dress!"

"In that case we are waiting for you to show up in it!"

The dress turned out to lie perfectly on you. The guys' assurances that you look good in it finally convinced you to the purchase.

When you got home it was time for preparations. Preparations that stressed you out even more. You tried to drown out your thoughts with music, but it was especially hard when a large part of your playlist consisted of songs by a band whose leader is the person you are trying to forget. The other part of the playlist was the songs you associated with him anyway. When you heard the first notes of Summer Flower you felt that you were in a no-win situation. If for so many years, being thousands of miles away, you had not managed to forget him how were you supposed to do it now having him at your fingertips almost every day? With a sigh you looked at the couch thinking about the moment when he held you there in his arms harmonizing his voice with the song.

What if he were here now?

What if now instead of getting ready for a date you were preparing snacks for a movie night together?

If you could spend the whole afternoon and evening cuddled up with him, holding his hand or playing with his hair if he laid his head on your lap?

Apparently, fate could read your mind, because as you combed your hair through the sound of the music a knock at the door broke through. Then you were greeted by the sight of Chris with a bag of snacks.

"I thought since I missed shopping together, we could make up for it with a marathon instead." he said dodging you at the threshold and entering the apartment.

Not knowing what to say you stared at him. The silence on your part prompted him to stop. Still not guessing anything, he noticed the brush in your hand and the knot in your hair. "Come on, let me help you." You went to the bedroom where you sat in front of the mirror. He hummed under his breath combing your hair with a slight smile on his lips enjoying this little moment. Whenever he combed your hair you laughed that he was giving you the princess treatment. That wasn't the case this time, which made him feel a little strange. "What do you feel like? a movie? kdrama? anime?" he tried to strike up a conversation. The fact that you haven't spoken a word since he came in increased this feeling.

"Chris…" Hearing your quiet, nervous voice he looked around. A dress hanging on a hanger, waiting to be put on, cosmetics scattered next to the mirror, an open jewelry box. It didn't take him long to guess that watching together today wouldn't work out.

"Are you going out somewhere?" he asked.

"I'm going on a date…" You said while sticking your gaze to the floor.

"Oh." visibly surprised, he stopped combing your hair for a moment. "Who's the lucky guy?" he asked in a forced joking tone, not wanting to make the situation seem even stranger.

"Minjun from the marketing department." you wanted to avoid looking at him at all costs. You were afraid of what you might see if you lifted your gaze. You were afraid that you would see disappointment, or worse, happiness and satisfaction that you were going out with someone else. However, if you actually looked at him you would see Channie's charming smile turn into a heartbroken expression. He could feel the jealousy building up in him, which he had to nip in the bud already. He couldn't let you notice, so he finished combing your hair as quickly as possible and left, explaining that he didn't want to disturb your preparations. You didn't protest, but something inside you was asking, begging even to tell you not to go anywhere and to stay here with him.

"I can't believe you lost to the guy from the marketing department." said Minho sitting down on the couch next to him. As soon as he left your flat he wanted to hole up in the studio however, halfway through a message about a movie marathon appeared on the group chat.

"Actually, he didn't lose because there was no competition," said Han.

"Exactly, if you had told her how you felt earlier she would have definitely chosen you" added Changbin.

"Can we focus on the movie?" he asked exasperatedly.

"Sorry hyung but this is definitely more interesting than the movie". said Hyunjin.

"You should go there and break the date." suggested Seungmin.

"Make up some excuse and call that you two absolutely must meet now!" I.N followed his idea.

"Can you guys just shut up and focus on the movie?" he asked more annoyed. There was a silence all around, which made him feel even worse. "I'm sorry…" he sighed. "I know I screwed up, but it's too late."

"We just want you to be happy." said Felix handing him a brownie on a plate.

"Even if it did work out…she doesn't deserve to hide and keep everything a secret."

"Maybe she won't mind? Maybe you can find a solution? Whatever is going on between you two has been going on for years, look how far you've come."

"Let's just focus on the movie, please."

Despite the fact that the guys had let the subject go and now the room was filled with laughter and loud comments about what was happening on the screen Chris couldn't focus at all. His head was filled with scenarios of what you can do now, did you have fun, did you let him hold your hand? hug you? kiss you? Jealousy bubbled up inside him but what could he do?

Somewhere near the end of the movie, his phone started vibrating with notifications, which he decided to ignore. Seungmin, however, annoyed by the constant vibrating, grabbed his phone to mute it but your nickname caught his attention.

"Chan you won't believe who it is." he said with a smile and started typing something.

"Who?" asked the unmoved leader, the only person he wanted to see a message from now was having a great time on a date with someone else. He didn't get an answer for a long moment.

"y/n didn't go on the date." This sentence made all the energy come back to him and he immediately snatched the phone from his hand to see the news.

c97b: why are you sending me tiktoks while being on a date? (your nickname): I am not on the date c97b: what? (your nickname): he cancelled last minute, so…

He looked at the phone in disbelief.

"Do something!" a shout from Lee Know brought him back to reality.

"This is your chance!" applauded Changbin.

Before he had time to think anything through his fingers were already running across the keyboard.

c97b: put the dress on. (your nickname): what? c97b: wear the dress, I will be there in 10.

What the hell is he doing? What will he tell you? How will he behave?

Thoughts and insecurities ate him from the inside out, and his hand was shaking when he was knocking at the door. However, when you opened it suddenly all the bad thoughts disappeared. All that mattered was how beautiful you looked now, and the struggle with the need to take you in his arms and not let you out of them.

Greeting you with a boyishly charming smile, he said it would be a shame if all your preparations for the going out went to waste. It was enough to make your disappointment with Minjun disappear. Enough for him to completely disappear from your thoughts which were once again completely possessed by your best friend.

Enjoying the last rays of sunshine today you went to the park for ice cream. You took a blanket with you to sit on the grass near the pond.

The meeting was not much different from the others, you were talking about everything and nothing, walking along the winding paths, watching the dogs playing, laughing how wonderful it would be to have little Berry here with you now and how she would love it here. The ice cream was the perfect cool down and sweetness, but Chan's showing dimples and his silly jokes were much sweeter.

Moments before sunset, you spread out your blanket and sat in silence watching the sky slowly turning orange and the sun disappearing behind the horizon directing its last warm rays at you, which you accepted with a smile.

"Thank you Channie." you said looking away from the scenery. Now you were able to notice that instead of watching the sunset, he was looking at you.

"You have nothing to thank me for." He shrugged his shoulders.

"For being there." You smiled slightly.

"I always will be." he replied without thinking.

"That's what friends are for, right?" You couldn't help the note of sadness creeping into your voice.

"y/n…" suddenly his face paled.

"What's wrong?" you asked worriedly.

"I think- I-" he began to stammer.

"Chris, whats going on?" The darkest scenarios appeared in front of your eyes, and panic rose in you.

"I think I am in love with you." he whispered.

"Oh my god-" surprised you covered your mouth with your hand. The shock on your face scared him more than it would have if your reaction had been instant rejection.

"I know, I know! But- I beg you even if you don't feel the same, let's just forget about it, I just had to tell you, finally after all these years, I couldn't hold it in anymore, but I understand that I'm just a friend to you, I don't want to lose you just because of some stupid feelings, hmp-" suddenly his ranting was interrupted by your lips. Sweet, soft lips that he had dreamed of touching for years. He had just fulfilled a scenario that had always seemed unattainable. Without wasting a moment he cupped your face making you cling even closer to him. The happiness that filled you pressed a smile to your lips that interrupted the kiss.

"If your feelings are stupid that means mine are too, because I feel exactly the same as you, you fool." you said quietly.

"I am a fool, a fool for you." he replied and kissed you again.

When you broke away from each other, this time hugging, you finished watching the sunset, which now seemed much more beautiful.

"It's gonna be hard…" he said after a moment of silence.

"Love isn't easy" you said. "b"But it's definitely worth it."

"How are we going to deal with all this?"

"We will find a solution, we always do."

"You think so?"

"Channie…" you took his hand, brought it to your lips and gently kissed the top of it. "I don't want to suddenly become your whole world, you won't be mine either, we both have separate lives, but love is not about the other person suddenly becoming the only thing we see. Love is about understanding that we both have separate worlds but we also have the desire to merge them. Love is finding a common path together."

"You are walkig hope, you know this?"

"Love is not fate, it is a choice. And that's what makes it powerful." You added again kissing his hand.

"You are my choice." he replied kissing your forehead.

No matter how crazy the collision of these worlds will be, he believed that as long as you are together everything will work out.

[familyvideostevie]

ahem omw with a request for you <33

can I request a rainy day with bradley bradshaw pls? likee all their plans get cancelled and he's way more excited than he should just because he can spend the whole day with his gf playing board/card games, watching movies, cuddling, cooking or whatever he wants (aka whatever you, the amazing writer, have in mind)

oh baby you are speaking my language! i love this! he's so on the go i think he'd love a day to relax and he'd be quite good at it if given the space to. this is maybe a bit simpler than you wanted, but hope you enjoy anyway! | fluff, 0.7k

You're having a really nice dream. Bradley's voice is soft, gentle as he says your name, sings it, laughs around it. His lips trail a line of gentle kisses from your ear to your nose, over both eyes and finally down to your lips --

"Baby," he says, thick with sleep. "Wake up. It's raining."

As if on cue, thunder rumbles and Bradley's hold on you tightens. It takes great effort to open your eyes but you manage and twist in his arms until you find his face. He smiles at you and kisses your nose, his mustache tickling your skin.

"Hello," you mumble.

"Hi," he says back. You take a few moments to process what he's said before finding the words.

"Does that mean no hike?" He nods, his hand sliding beneath your sleep shirt to rest on your lower back. He's so warm.

"No hike," he says. You rub your eyes.

"You got a plan B, Lieutenant?"

Today was meant to be a date organized by Bradley. A drive through somewhere beautiful to a hike that would take you somewhere even more beautiful and then lunch. He's been excited about it all week and as your brain catches up with what's happening you're a bit disappointed on his behalf.

"Not as exciting as plan A, but I do."

Your eyes slide closed and you sandwich your knee between his legs. "Tell me more."

Bradley traces the lines of your face with one long finger as he talks. "We can play cards," he murmurs. "I need to reclaim my gin rummy title." You huff a laugh. He's a sore loser. "I'll make you breakfast or we can order from that bagel place."

"And make some poor teenager bike it over in the rain?"

"I'll tip a lot." You can't see him but you can hear his smile. It's a gorgeous smile, a soft one, one that drew you to him the very first time you met. Bradley is loud, he's good at being the center of attention, he's intense, he's magnetic. But there's a softness, a tenderness to him that takes your breath away.

"What else?"

"We can just relax. Nap on the couch, watch a whole season of a TV show. Hey, don't fall asleep again --"

"I'm not," you huff. You open your eyes and twist your body so that you're on top of him. He grunts but allows it as you straddle him lightly. "Are you suggesting we have a relaxing day?"

There's that grin again. "I guess I am." You bury your face in his neck.

"Never thought I'd see the day." He's all go go go, your boyfriend. He's always planning for something, worrying about something, spinning about ten plates in the air. But you know that given the chance he really does enjoy slowing down and letting all of that cease for even just a day.

Thunder rumbles again. He wraps his arms around you and you sink impossibly further into him. "I'm sorry we don't have days like this often," he says softly.

"The day hasn't even started yet." He squeezes your hip. "But don't apologize, Bradley. I'll take you any way I can get you."

"I know," he says. "I do want us to go on that hike sometime, by the way." You groan. "No, listen, it's because I can't die without seeing you see that view for the first time. It's really amazing."

You pull away from him and smooth the hair from his face, trace the lines at the corners of his eyes. So much hardship, so much tragedy, and he's still got smile lines. "This view is pretty amazing, too."

He flushes. Confident as he is, soft words in your bedroom seem to undo him. He's told you that he feels most himself when you're looking at him because you see him. You feel the same.

"Tell me about it." He cups the back of your neck and pulls you down for a proper kiss, slotting his lips with yours and tracing the seam with his tongue. "I love you," he says. "Thank you for dealing with me."

You huff. As if it's a hardship. "I love you back. Let's go order bagels."

He springs out of bed without another word, you in his arms, and laughs as you yelp all the way to the kitchen.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

[greyskyflowers]

Someone used the tag bloodhound Zoro on one of my posts recently and FRIEND I'm so glad someone else thinks that way.

The guard dog/bloodhound dynamic is one of my absolute favorites when done correctly, especially with characters who are the embodiment of that type of dynamic.

Not sure if I have any leverage fans hanging around but I see this dynamic used with Elliot a lot and it's always really well done in that fandom.

Territorial

Loyal

Protective

Fearless

Alert

Adaptable

A little bloodthirsty

I could point out every instance of Zoro showcasing these characteristics and I could imagine every scenario that could happen for fic ideas.

But my favorite is the side that not everyone gets to see.

Being soft only for the people who matter

Coming back bloody from fighting and patiently waiting for affection

Only being able to relax with certain people

The love and trust needed to allow yourself to be vulnerable around someone

💚

Have some soft, guard dog Zoro brainstorm dust bunnies. Although he's 100% a guard cat if we're being honest.

Petting along his jaw and down his throat in soothing and firm touches.

It takes time but he lets them at his neck, belly, and back. When they grab around his waist they brush fingers against his side, barely feeling ribs under the muscles layered over them. Rubbing his shoulders and down along his spine when he falls asleep around them. The skin of his back so soft and smooth compared to the rest of his body. It's sensitive and breaks out in little goosebumps when they linger.

He's an oversized cat.

He goes from only light napping with his back against something to complete trust.

His head tipped back and his throat is left completely vulnerable. He curls on his side or lays on his front, back fully exposed. He sprawls on his back with arms tossed out to the side or over his head, belly left unguarded.

He doesn't wear shirts as much, skin growing warmer and warmer under all the sun until he's a full canvas of sun kissed skin. It makes his eyes pop, the green of his hair more vivid, and the color of his lips more distracting. The occasional flush that graces his cheeks is harder to spot but they're skilled at looking for it now.

He seeks out affection once he knows he'll get it and he's willing to let them give it.

Sleeping curled against someone's side, face pressed to their necks like he's tucking himself away in them. Draping across their laps like an oversized kitten, blinking up at them slowly until they take the hint and pet at him.

Sometimes when they're somewhere off ship or someone is traveling with them, he gets restlessness in a way that says he wants that affection. It's a way to relax, to uncoil all the tension in his muscles, and a way to show his care for them. He doesn't do well with words, but they all speak love differently and they know what he means.

He doesn't do that in front of anyone other than crew though and they're okay with that. The idea of Zoro being vulnerable around strangers makes them protective and the thought of anyone but crew seeing that side of him at all makes them feel possessive.

Only crew gets to see each other so innocent, vulnerable, exposed, submissive.

So they find work arounds.

Luffy sleeping curled around Zoro's back and possessive arms wrapped around the swordman's waist. Satisfying the urge for closeness and touch but still protected, all vulnerable spots hidden from anyone else's eyes.

After all, no one blinks an eye at Luffy clinging to Zoro.

Luffy presses his face into the back of Zoro's neck and top of his spine, biting marks into the skin because sometimes he's not good with words either. Zoro doesn't even flinch, still asleep and completely trusting of Luffy to do what's best.

Luffy passes it off loudly in the morning with cries of dreams filled with meat and Sanji can they have a bunch of meat for breakfast please?

Zoro doesn't hide it because he doesn't hide anything Luffy gives him and the crew all get stuck on it through the day. Staring at the skin, where the bruising has pulled blood to the surface and painted it different colors. The darker spots where teeth had been pressed.

The only mark anywhere near his back and it was given willingly. He isn't ashamed of the bruises on the top of his spine, almost flaunting them as he trains shirtless in the afternoon sun. Skin glowing with sweat and everyone within eye sight trying to discreetly stare.

It's not the last mark he gets and it becomes common for him to have marks and bruises on his skin. Bright colors and dark hues in shapes of fingers and mouths, usually resting by the hinge of his jaw, the top of his spine, or the top of his hips and lower belly, where there's just the very slightest hint of stubborn softness clinging.

💚

Am I obviously obsessed with Zoro being feral?

Showing his affection by letting people at vulnerable spots they could use to easily hurt him?

Is my soft, bottom, and/or submissive Zoro bias showing?

Yes

[sillyromance]

Can you make comfort vore? From Optimus?

Hello, dear evelyntyecrqzy!

Sure! Here you go!

P.S: there is angst and one heavy word in this work. Also I've written it from the first person's perspective... I really hope you don't mind it.

Have a good day and take care!

***

- How do you feel, little one?

It was late evening; almost all the lights were gone, the only bright area was Ratchet’s lab: the old medic was staring at the big green screen, typing aggressively on the panel and mumbling something inaudible. He was too busy to pay attention to anything else. The rest of the team left to their quarters after they had brought the kids home. No body had shown any signs of life since then.

I was lying on the couch, curled up in a tight ball. My head felt heavy and hurt; I felt cold and lonely. It was hard to hold back sobbing, but I didn't want to attract unnecessary attention - nobody cared anyways. Why would they? Were my problems that important?

I squeezed my eyes shut, tears running down my cheeks violently as my shoulders started shuddering...

And then I heard his deep, gentle voice.

"How do you feel, little one?" - I turned my red face to the huge mech behind me. Optimus Prime, my guardian. Through the cacophony of my thoughts I hadn't heard him coming. His blue optics far above glowed with concern.

I hurried to wipe the tear tracks from my face and stand up, mumbling something like: "Sorry" or "It's fine, don't bother yourself..." But as far as I did this, his large servo wrapped around me and very soon I found myself sitting on his plain rough palm, being swirled with his kind, sad gaze. I felt nothing but guilt, though the only reason for it was my depressing mood. I couldn't look straight at him, turning away over and over, rubbing my hot cheeks in attempt to get rid of the tears. I hated myself for the mess I had become – I waited for him to throw me away as far as he would get a good look at my ugliness. However, Optimus didn't seem disgusted with me at all.

- Did someone offend you? - The mech asked again with the same sincere tenderness in his tone.

I shook my head negatively.

- Is it something in your body?

I closed my face with both hands and shook the head even more violently, crooking.

- No...

- And what’s about your soul?..

I sniffed silently; choking sensation dug its claws into my throat as it let out a pathetic "Mm-gm..." and I nodded. Everything in me just fell somewhere down; I felt my poor heart beating hysterically in the stomach. There was a crazy mix of panicking fear and complete indifference. I was trembling, wishing to be left alone. But even more, I wanted to be comforted. I wanted someone to embrace me and whisper soothing words, to say that it was going to be OK, to stroke my hair as if I was just a kid. But wasn't it too much to ask? I didn't dare to believe Optimus would bother himself to spend time with such a puny, pathetic creature.

After this cut through my head, I couldn't keep myself from crying anymore – I literally burst out.

- Hey, look at me, Y/N.

Hesitantly, I obliged. I was ready to see disappointment or distaste, but instead...

- There is nothing to be embarrassed with. Do you want to talk about it?

I wasn't sure if I heard him right. Did he really... worry about me? Of course, as my guardian, he should have, regardless... Wasn't I dreaming?

- W-what d-do you m-mean? – I replied indecisively.

- I thought, perhaps you could share your pain with someone. Sometimes it helps. - A small, understanding smile appeared on his faceplate. - I'm sorry... It hurts my spark to see such precious little thing crying.

I lost my ability to speak for some seconds.

- Does it r-really? W-why?

Prime's eyebrows lifted up in surprise.

- Because you matter. You're my friend, Y/N. Friends help each other, don't they?

His gravely voice had already had its way with me. My shudders calmed down and though my eyes were still wet, I couldn't help but smiled back at him.

- Thank you... for this... But I don't want to talk right now...

- It's absolutely fine...

- ... I'm very, very tired, though. - At the moment I said that, my spine weakened and I collapsed at the flat, warm surface of Optimus' hand.

Something childish, basic, something from the abyss of my wild, subconscious core suddenly arose inside me and escaped my chest with barely audible plead.

- Please... Don't leave me here...

A quiet sigh rambled beside me; my entire figure was washed with warm air of his exhale.

- Don't worry, Y/N. I won't.

His digits closed over my tiny form. I wasn't able to see a thing anymore, but I could say for sure that we moved away from the place.

Quite soon the sounds of Ratchet's work faded away. Optimus opened one of the many electric doors and walked into a somewhat room - I heard a soft "whoosh" as the panel shifted back to its place. My guardian set me free on his berth, and only then I understood that we were in his private room. Sitting down beside me, he spoke even gentler than before:

- You are out of energy. And so do I. But still, I don't want you to stay alone...

Do you trust me?

I nod, already predicting where he was heading to. Cybotronian friends committed this small ritual with humans regularly; many were fond of it. However, I had never tried it with him. I couldn't claim that I was completely inexperienced too, but those previous times were emergencies which I couldn't truly like – they were harsh and distasteful like a rotten fruit. Now... It promised to be much more intimate. And it depended only on my wish.

I glanced at him through my eyelashes - I was too sleepy to keep the eyes wide open - and murmured:

- I do.

Optimus nodded. I was lifted up again - straight to his mouth.

Slowly, controlling every his movement, my guardian guided me inside his maw and laid my feet on his squishy glossa - there was a faint blue light twinkling at the back of his depthless throat illuminating a humid, warm chamber. Thanks to him I didn't even touch the sharp dents – their deadly blades loomed right above me, but stayed harmless, serving simply a reminder of what power Optimus actually had over me. The glossa curled around my legs as soft, thick blanket, then released them and I was pushed further to the glowing entrance of the esophagus.

I stared down, processing what was about to happen. I appreciated the leisure pace Optimus chose with me; his gentle licks and steady, rhythmical ventilating brought me nothing but comfort and peace. I sensed my toes in his pharynx and waited for inevitable with dull thrill - to be unceremoniously drugged into misty, humid confines of the muscles’ trap, to be deafed and choked. That what I was usually met with before, every time I was gulped down. However, when Optimus swallowed, his artificial, metal flesh contracted just slightly, pulling me so carefully inside that I almost missed the moment. It was like... A hug. The next swallow was just a little bit stronger - I gasped as he let his hand go off me and my tiny being got engulfed into his soft throat. It felt better than anything I knew before. Surrounded by the pulsing alien flesh, I finally felt protected and loved – the state I sought for so desperately all that fuckin’ day.

For some time he just held me there, his head titled back. I didn't make a move, trying to avoid hurting him. Living heat of his soaked into my bones and made me so drowsy that I thought I would fall asleep. However, at that moment the muscles came to action and lovingly tugged me deeper. The light grew brighter, though it didn't bother me at all; I was easily slipping in a long wiry tube constructed from the smaller ones, thinner and more solid, poured with viscous, bubbling energon – I was watching little sparks floating in there as I was passing by and a weak flame of forgotten happiness flickered in my soul once more.

Finally, I arrived at his fueltank. Its walls greeted me with a friendly squeeze, forcing me to curl into fetal position. I didn't cry anymore; all my worries and demons disappeared long ago, at the second I heard: "How do you feel, little one?"

God! I was so horribly wrong. I thought no one needed me, that I was lost, abandoned... And still, there was someone who couldn't bare me cry.

I felt Optimus' servo laying down on the lump I must have made on his waist, caressing me. I rubbed my head against the spot where I could recognize the pressure and smiled.

I did matter.

[acerathia]

pink camellias || Chapter 1: hyacinth

Chapter Summary:

purple hyacinth: sorrow

Wordcount: 3.2k

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Pairing:

Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

Tags/CW:

royalty au, inspired by Mulan, war and its consequences, violence, childhood friends to strangers to companions to lovers (i am sorry), Angst, Acts of Service, Character Death (Major, and Minor), swordfights, misogyny, f!reader, kidnapping, implied torture, let me know if I missed anything lol

Note:

I got too impatient, so, I'm posting the first chapter today lol, still, i hope you enjoy reading it!

You opened the windows as soon as you woke up. As the soft sunlight warmed your skin, you watched the breeze rustle the flowers of the garden. Beyond that garden was a beautifully constructed posh house, barely blocking your view to the adjacent village. The rows of different houses gave the scenery a special kind of feel. The view was breathtaking, the bustling of all these people making you feel alive under your skin. 

You stood by the window, trying to discern the lives of the common people below you in the valley. There was a small stripe of forest bordering the village and the mansion, which stood atop a hill. 

“I wonder how life is down there”, you mumbled before looking back to your bed.

The softest of fabric was spread over the king-sized bed and you slowly stepped closer, your hand enjoying the feel of silk between your fingers. Then with a tiny jump you threw yourself onto the mattress, sinking deeply in its comfort and warmth.

With a sigh, you tried to imagine living in such a village. Maybe you would operate a bakery, making tasty bread and confects. You would wake up early, which you usually would never even think about, but this was only imaginary. If you were lucky, you could watch the sunrise for some time, while waiting for the dough to rise. Your hands would be kneading and caressing the dough into different, but nonetheless tasty goodies for the day, the lit oven warming your back with a gentle sigh. It would hug the soft dough and prepare it for the day.

After the bread and sweets would be ready, you would open up the shop, awaiting the first jingle of the door. You would, as usual, greet the oncoming customers, the ones you saw regularly with some deep questions, and the newer ones with some welcoming small talk. Your heart would beat in happiness every time something of yours would find its home somewhere else. And if everything got sold, you would close the shop and head to the market to replenish some of your necessities. If not, you would go around and give the bread to someone who would need it at the moment, not wanting to let anyone go hungry. 

You imagined such a routine to be relaxing and enjoyable, especially connecting with so many people. The wish to go out and change something for yourself lit a spark, even if the possibility of leaving this place without guard would never happen. 

Some day you would wake up with the hope of appearing in another place, like the characters in your stories. Landing inside a novel with the knowledge of every scenario, being actively a part of some grand scheme or an adventure. But no matter how long you kept your eyes closed, you stayed in your little bland life. 

Sometimes you would dare to write down some ideas, with your scrawly font. And while doing so you blamed yourself for not listening to your teacher when learning how to write. But you wrote. You wrote every little idea that emerged in your little head. Huffing and puffing when the intricate dreams vanished after waking up. 

With a low grumble, you stared at your ceiling. You grew weary of only imagining things and felt the urge, the desire to actually live your own adventure. 

“My Lady, I’ve brought water to wash up”, the voice of your maid Hana sounded before she entered the room. 

You furrowed your brows, wondering how long you had been lying there, and if you would succeed in sneaking out, if your maid wouldn’t be so punctual. But you only greeted her and rolled from the bed to walk towards a stool.

While you were washing your face, Hana brushed your hair gently and got rid of all the knots taking residence on top of your head. You looked into the mirror, feeling the soft towel on your skin. 

This was your face, even if you wished you were another person. No matter what you think, the baby fat on your face would not dwindle until much later. For a moment you wondered how soon your birthday was. 

“You should go to the dining room to eat some breakfast, my Lady.”, Hana told you, after helping you into a simple baby blue wrapper. Something simple for your indoor endeavors, as you did not plan on leaving this mansion any time soon. 

With a nod you made your way to the dining room, greeting your father, who was leaning over some papers spread over the table. 

“Good morning sweetie, did you sleep well?”, he asked while stretching his arms for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“Yes, thank you for asking, Father.”, you smiled with a slight crook, before turning to greet your mother the same way. 

After the greetings, you took a seat and started eating your breakfast. 

Despite the current silence at the table you were quite attached to your parents, as they were to you. They both were loving and warm and so doting on their only daughter. And who were you to resist getting spoiled like that? You would do anything for your parents, and even if you longed to go outside and experience new things, you were aware how your disappearance would break their hearts, and yours. 

“Ah, we’re supposed to return to the palace today, did you prepare your luggage, or did you forget again?”, your mother started speaking with an amused smile after finishing the meal.

“Mother! Of course, I prepared everything! But, I’m still going to ensure that everything has its place.”, you hurriedly responded and jumped from your seat. Soft chuckle followed you out of the room. 

How could you forget the return to the palace? Your father was the marquess and your mother attended to the queen herself. And despite your current young age, you wanted to make a good impression on the people living there, even if they may have already formed one around your person. But nothing speaks against working to better those impressions. 

With the help of your maid, you threw everything you may need in that visit into a tiny case, fitting for your tiny stuff. And when Hana suggested you take your stuffed cat with you, you vehemently refused. Because what if someone saw it and thought of you as inferior? Especially little kids your age, they were usually the most vicious and you refused to be the victim of their bullying. 

After making sure everything was in order, you let your maid help you into some outdoor gown with the same blue color as the other one. With a fitting pair of gloves and a bonnet, you were ready to leave your home for your stay at the palace. 

Clutching Hana’s hand you made your way outside to the awaiting carriage. The coachman already heaving their luggage into its respective space. But you didn’t need his help to get into the carriage, not even Hana’s help. You grabbed some of the fabric of your dress and took the large step with one stride. The next step let you tumble into the insides of the carriage, where you immediately acted like everything went as planned. 

Hana took the seat in front of you and the car slowly left the property. You knew that your parents were in the carriage in front of yours, so you did not fret and simply enjoyed the passing sights of the marquisate.

After a couple of minutes, someone slightly shook you and you blearily opened your eyes. You didn’t remember closing them in the first place. Did you already arrive at your destination? That was weird, you thought the way would take some hours. But beggars shouldn’t be choosers and you didn’t mind that very convenient time skip of sleep. Even if you now felt tired and grumpy. 

With half-closed lids you let Hana lead you to the inside of the palace, where you already occupy a room. This wasn’t the first time your character visited the palace, but every time felt like it was. And no matter how much you wanted to look around, you felt drained and wanted nothing more than to continue your nap in peace. 

The moment you stepped into the room, you threw yourself onto the bed, without care of your bonnet falling off your head. But for some reason you could not fall asleep again, making you whine into the soft pillows, before sitting up. 

And before you could even plan anything for the afternoon, someone started knocking on your door. 

“Hello! We were wondering if you wanted to play knights with us?”, a boy your age with bright green eyes, Izuchan,  asked you with a smile, the moment you opened the door. Another was lingering with crossed arms and a slight scowl. 

You turned to look at Hana, who just nodded with a sigh before you also nodded to the boys in front of you. “Yes! I’d love to participate in a game!”

With that, you followed them outside, where the sun shone upon your heads and warmed you slightly. 

They immediately started clashing their wooden swords and began screaming something about ‘villains’ and ‘crime’. You wondered when it would be your turn, but you didn’t hold a wooden sword in your hands. 

For some reason you felt the need to fix it, so you started wandering to the training camp of the real knights, looking for some kind of sword you might be able to use. 

The only thing you discovered were of course actual knights in training. Their movements and the swing of the sword in their hands were mesmerizing and you could not help yourself but stare. Their flow seemed like a hidden dance, its steps only obtained by the truly worthy. 

You felt trapped in watching the blades clash, eliciting bursts of tiny stars. A desire to wield this magic grew in you and a grin formed itself across your face. Now you fully understood the reason everyone admired knights. And you desired to be one. 

You barely managed to rip your gaze from their dangerous dance only to see the object you were seeking only minutes ago. Without a second thought, you grabbed the wooden sword to return to the fighting boys. Only to see them running towards the training grounds, their gaze focused on something behind you. 

And what were you supposed to do but follow them? So you ran with them towards a group of people converging around a massive person. 

“Allmight!”, Izuchan gasped and started talking about the best knight in this whole kingdom and you couldn’t do anything but listen with rapt attention and interest. 

Kacchan tried to get to the overrun knight, but before he had the possibility of reaching him, Allmight found the right timing to detach himself from the crowd and thus was missed when the boy finally broke through. 

The blond started raging, concealing his disappointment in a fit of anger and screams. The other boy tried to calm him down, yelling ‘Kacchan’ to get his attention.

Undeterred by his outburst you gripped the wooden sword tighter in your hand and declared something to him, maybe you hoped to calm him down or to distract him from his missing hero. 

“I am going to be a knight! One better than you!”, you declared war on these two young boys, who were supposed to be your friends, but your ambitions seemed to destroy any semblance of kinship. 

“Hah? A girl can’t be a knight, are you stupid?”, Kacchan immediately replied, his anger only simmering, but directed at you nonetheless. 

“You’re stupid!”

While you could have replied with a better comeback, annoyance made your brain empty, only the desire to show him filling you to the brim. 

Without waiting for the next words of this brash boy, you turned and ran towards the toy dummy, which has been abandoned offside the actual training grounds. You didn’t care if your dress stained, the seams filling with mud, as you hit the dummy repeatedly, acting as if you were already a seasoned knight. 

The two boys joined you soon after. And while the blond and you could not do anything but push each other into anger, you still played with your wooden swords, even if any of you would have dared to say that it has been a fight for life and death. 

And if your maid clicked her tongue and reprimanded you for ruining your dress, you only responded with your dreams and hopes of becoming a knight. Out of necessity, your maid had, soon after that conversation full of sighs and aspirations, sewn you some proper clothing resembling the ones of a knight. 

With your pants and shirt, you continued to fight your friends at every possibility, even if it meant getting stained in blue blood underneath your skin and ripped hair between your fingernails. 

***

The seasons have passed and you still lived at the palace with your mother. You spent your daily life studying everything this place had to offer and everything your duty obliged you. But the moment you managed to free yourself some time, the people found you in a pair of pants, swinging that old wooden sword with your friends. 

Finally, you had finished your reading for the day, getting some free time for your extracurricular activities. But before the teacher could properly dismiss you, your maid knocked and entered the room, a grave expression marring her face. 

“Miss, I’m afraid, your mother is at death's door…”, she started speaking, but you jumped from your chair, grabbing the fabric of your dress to allow you to run as fast as you managed. 

Your mother, your dear, loving mother, laid there, unmoving in her too-big bed. Her pale frame almost sunk into the soft fabric of the bedding and you were afraid. You were so afraid to step too close and to hurt her. 

Still, you carefully sat at the end of the bed, taking her hand in yours, as soft as your rough hands cared to achieve. You only had eyes for her, everyone around you nothing but a blur. Nonetheless, you caught some pieces of information from the people hurrying around you in a senseless frenzy. The white plague. Your mother has been suffering under the act of consumption for longer than any of the people around her anticipated. Her paleness mistaken for lack of sun and worry. Her feverishly red cheeks and lips simply for a mistake in the chosen shade. 

You wondered how long she had been plagued by this illness. How long had she been suffering without anyone taking notice? Had she already known prior to this? 

Suddenly her lack of presence in your life in the last couple of months started to make sense. She knew you would have noticed her lack of energy immediately. How could you not? Your mother used to be the sun in any dark room. Her presence soothing and warm, even if bright. This woman in front of you was nothing but a pale, sick shadow of her old self. And it hurt you.

It hurt to see the most important person in your life suffer and on the brink of death. Oh, how you would do anything to soothe her aches and take her pains away. 

Something cold dripped onto your hands, but you were not able to find the source of those tiny drops. Not until you took a shuddering gasp and a sob broke free, your lungs yearning to scream and cry. 

Even if you grew weary and bored of your life, you cared for this woman, it drove you crazy. How were you supposed to move on after this? 

People grabbed your sobbing shoulders, but you refused to let go of her frail hand. Someone was whispering empty words into you and you didn’t react with anything but a heartbreaking wail, lowering your head against her hand, pressing her cold skin against your cheeks. 

Despite your vehement protest, someone managed to loosen your grip around your dead mother, leading you into your room. After getting pushed onto your own bed, everything became a blur. 

You barely noticed getting moved around or getting into a carriage. The only thing you numbly remember was the regret of not telling your friends about your hasty departure. Even if you yourself had not known about it until you arrived back at the mansion you used to live at. You supposed this was your actual home, even if the palace felt more like it. 

After your arrival at the mansion, you refused to eat and did not leave your room under any circumstance. At some point, your father's worry grew and he started trying to lure you with different things. Most of them got no reaction from you at all. 

“Hello dear. How have you been?”, he asked with a soft voice, taking a seat at the end of the bed. You gave him a tired smile as an answer, your voice itching and scratching. 

“Good, good.”, he nodded, taking your hand in his. “I know I have said it multiple times already, but you need to get out a bit… I know, I know. But she would not want you to suffer in such a dark room.” He tried to persuade you, already knowing your answer, even just with your nonverbal facial expressions. 

“How about this: You still want to be a knight, don’t you? Well, then we shall get you some proper sword master to teach you. Can’t have you swing a wooden sword without instructions forever.”, and his suggestion made you perk up. 

You still wanted to master swordsmanship, but your father had never supported that particular endeavor of yours. Until to this day, it appeared. Even if the circumstances should have been better, your mother should have been there to celebrate that milestone with you. Still, you knew she would have wanted you to run towards your dreams, even if she wasn’t there. You decided to dedicate this work of life to her before you agreed to your father's suggestion with a slight nod and a hesitant smile. 

And your agreement seemed to spark some happiness in the eyes of your old man, as his smile gained that special depth. Without further words, because you simply didn’t need to, he pecked your forehead, before standing up. And if he pulled the curtains open and let you bask in the warmth of the estranged sun before he left your room, then so be it. Because this time, the sun didn’t symbolize another day without her, but a new opportunity dedicated to her, in remembrance of her. Starting with that day, you promised yourself to think of her every time you held a sword. Your dear beloved memories with her would lend you whatever strength you would have needed in any possible situation. 

Your gaze wanders out of your window, into the beautiful garden. And you were mesmerized by the whipping flowers, almost like it was your first time seeing them. With this breathtaking, familiar view you held your promise close to your heart and planned on never letting go.

[fieldofdaisiies]

Elain x Lucien

A Court of Sight and Devotion

───  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅  ─── playlist 🎶

daylight - david kuschner There's darkness in the distance From the way that I've been livin' But I know I can't resist it

lover - taylor swift Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close forever and ever?

love language - crooked colours So speak your love language to me I understand just what you need No one can hear it like me

hallucinations - pvris Hallucinations, you occupy My imagination's running wild New sensations, sweet temptations I can't tell what's real and what's

good things take time - aidan martin So even when I've been up all night Even when I'm fucking up my life Even when I'm losing my mind I know that good things take time

paradise - anderson rocio We're stronger than we think we are 'Cause nothing that we're made of is built from glass And we'll push it 'til our bodies breaks 'Cause love will always heal our broken backs

anywhere away from here - rag'n'bone man Sometimes I close my eyes And dream I'm somewhere else Anywhere away from here

I found - amber run And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be Right in front of me Talk some sense to me

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

I Cherish You, Halcyon Days: iii.

“You’re gonna die, kid. In the worst way possible.”

tags: afab!reader (she/her), angst, slow burn

pairing: gojou x reader + onesided!getou x reader

summary: You’re 15 years old when you’re told you’re going to die. You’re 17 years old when you realize who your killer will be. And you’re 17 years old when you make peace with the fact you wouldn’t want it any other way.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

If you thought that on December 8th you would get a break from Gojou Satoru in your life, you were very much so wrong.

At this hour, there isn't even an opportunity to even try meeting up with your friends. They're all in school, one without the luxury of giving students the day off when a birthday or two comes around. You really do have to hope and pray for an opportunity to hang out to fall into your lap. It was one of your few promises to yourself when you entered the world of fighting against curses rather than passively living with them.

Even if you were living out an otaku's dream of fighting evil, you wouldn't forget the normalcy you were leaving behind.

It's just a lot easier said than done now that you're no longer in it ー not that you truly ever were as someone born to see curses.

At the very least, though, if things had been a bit different, you could have at least spent the hours leading up to your birthday with your actual friends instead of the class menace. I don't even know why he's here, you grumble as you skulk forward through the crowd. There are so many things Gojou could be doing besides being in your vicinity.

He could have gone to an arcade.

He could have stayed in his room playing video games. No, instead he's here with you smack dab in the middle of town because it would have been too boring on his own otherwise. Can't he be bored somewhere else? You again wallow over the fact your friends are in school at this present moment before deciding that is likely a good thing. Gojou does not need to meet your personal circle of friends.

"I'm bored," Gojou whines, lazily trailing behind you. "What's the point of doing this if we already know they're throwing us a party?"

My thoughts exactly, you huff. You pointedly ignore the fact that you've been completely fine with the arrangement prior to it being your turn. Birthday party set up is a different ordeal. There's usually plenty to keep you both separated from one another. "Take it up with, Fujioka-sensei and Yaga-sensei," you sigh, as you try to find something that can make time go faster. Your stomach growls and you bite your bottom lip in irritation. I shouldn't have skipped breakfast. But in their haste to boot you and Gojou out of the dorms, you forgot to grab something.

Gojou you could understand. But why you?

He's the one who shakes boxes of presents even if they're his.

You're as a mild-mannered as they come.

"Screw walking around, we might as well just find somewhere to eat," you look over your shoulder at the boy and he shrugs back, fine with the change of plans. "I'm pretty sure there's a Johnny's somewhere close by." Even a hole-in-the-wall restaurant will do.

"What about over there?" Gojou nods his chin far at the first building that catches his eye.

"There?" You raise an incredulous brow, resting your hands on your hips. It's no Johnny's, it seems a bit more cutesy than that with its quaint brick walls and frosted windows. The Christmas decorations leave little to be desired. "I don't want to deal with Santa in my ear the whole time."

Gojou points over to the establishment again and you trail after his finger until he stops at a bright, cherry-red sign, "but there's a discount."

Discount?

Christmas Lovey-Dovey Special: Couple's Receive 50% Off!

You share a look for approximately three seconds before your hands are clasping one another with much enthusiasm as you practically skip to the restaurant in question. "You know, darling, you really do come up with the best ideas, sometimes," you beam, eyes practically sparkling. If there is one thing people love universally whether rich or poor, it's a damn discount. And if holding hands and acting lovey dovey with Gojou means getting half off on a random discount for breakfast, you'll fold faster than Mr. Darcy in Pride & Prejudice.

"Only sometimes?" Gojou croons and you're sure he's fluttering his eyelashes. "I'm pretty sure you mean all the time, cupcake."

Don't push it, your eyes narrow.

You get a shit-eating grin in return. "Table for two please," Gojou holds up two fingers with his free hand as you approach the doors, just as a hostess passes by. "We're just celebrating our birthdays!"

"He's December 7th," you point over to Gojou with a dreamy sigh.

"She's December 9th," Gojou nudges you lightly with a grin. "We're soulmates, it's pretty much a sign we were born for each other. Celebrating on the 8th is a happy medium, right, honey?"

"Satoru, please," your grip on his hand tightens in warning as you chuckle sheepishly. You're being too extra, dumbass. Gojou grins despite that, squeezing back just as hard but twice as obnoxious. "You're embarrassing me. She doesn't want to hear all of that sappy stuff. Don't indulge him, he's just in a good mood because we're partying with our friends later."

The hostess, bless her heart, takes Gojou's excessiveness in stride. She definitely doesn't get paid enough to deal with your antics. "What a sweet coincidence," she smiles politely. "Follow me right this way," she says before leading you to a table not too far away by a window. She's tired of dealing with couples, you hold back a look of pity. May her shift almost be over.

Within seconds of looking at the menu, you already know what you want to order. "I'm getting the drunken udon," you tell Gojou unnecessarily. "And the grapefruit juice. It's got grapefruit chunks in it."

Gojou doesn't even attempt to hide his disgust. When it came to fruit, grapefruit is the only he hates the most. You weren't fond of grapefruit when you were younger, but in the past 6 months you developed a taste for it when you realized it was the one drink in the dorm fridge Gojou doesn't touch. It's not that bad once you get used to. "Right, I forgot you and Utahime hate sweets," Gojou clicks his tongue, unimpressed. "You have boring taste buds. At least look at the special menu before getting something this place serves all the time." He points at a sickeningly pink strawberry soda too large for one person and two heart-shaped straws. "We should get this one instead. And the waffles."

"I like sweets, I just don't wanna taste the diabetes when I consume it," you argue back. You even love strawberries. You just know that the amount of sugar in that drink is likely enough to put a caveman in a coma. There's sweet and then there's the unnatural abominations that Gojou eats on a regular. What's scarier is that his justification is that it helps fuel his brain power or something dumb like that. You're pretty sure he ripped the idea straight out of a manga and is hoping no one notices. "You drink most of it then if we get it. Talk shit about my udon all you want, I'm still ordering it."

"We're getting it," Gojou replies promptly, no room left for argument. Whatever, there's grapefruit juice back in the dorms.

I'm grabbing a water just in case then.

The water is a godsend five minutes later when you are able to confirm that the Lovers' Strawberry Cloud does, in fact, have enough sugar to put a caveman in a coma. One sip and you regretted all of your life choices that led you to this very moment. "You finish it," you mutter after gulping half of your icy water down.

He's so happy about it, you're sure this was planned from the start.

Thankfully, your food arrives not too long afterward. The only real hiccup about the customer service is the waiter giving you the wrong plates. "Here you go," his lips curled upwards gently as he placed Gojou's waffles by your hands. It's only when he tries to give your udon to Gojou that the birthday boy in question stopped the motion with a lazy hand.

"The waffles are mine, actually," Gojou deadpans, passing your plate in your direction with one hand. With a clumsy sputter, the issue is resolved in seconds and your respective meals are placed in front of the right person.

You grimace, holding back a gag of frustration when Gojou wastes no time is shoving his food down his throat. Ravenously as he eats, somehow his cheeks stay clear of sticky mess coating them. Of course, Gojou even eats pretty. You're a hater, but you can give credit where credit is due. Gojou Satoru is, objectively speaking, very pretty. To be honest, all of your classmates are hot. It's almost unfunny how there isn't one average person in their ranks, yourself included of course. Gojou is just the only classmate that's this annoying about it. It's such an insult that someone with such a shitty attitude is this pretty. Where's Utahime to rant and groan with when you need her?

When your stomach growls again, you shake your head. Eat first, hate later.

You relish the taste with an enthusiastic moan. Drunken udon is the absolute best.

"Give me a bite?"

You blink once,

twice.

"No," you look at the white-haired sorcerer like he's grown a second head. "Gojou, drunken udon has chili in it." And yet in spite of your explanation, the prodigal son of the Gojou Clan still leans over enthusiastically, mouth wide open expectantly. "Yeah, I'm not letting you eat this," you snort before taking another bite of your meal. The texture of the noodles and the bell paper, the blend of the chili and garlic. It really is heaven in every bite.

"Some girlfriend you are, you don't even care that I'm starving," apparently the lovey dovey waffle platter on the table means nothing to him. There's a pause and he must have glanced down at his plate because a moment later he added, "this means nothing."

You roll your eyes, "hey genius, a true girlfriend that cares about you won't let you eat something she knows you don't like."

"But [First]," he groans.

"Why do you even want this this, you can't even handle curry that's barely above mild!"

"You're making it look good!"

"Because it is," you reply like it's obvious. For anyone who likes spice, drunken udon is delicious. "Gojou, no," you barely stifle your snickers as you remember the day you were reminded that Gojou and spice weren't compatible in the slightest. All it took was one bite into a hot cheetoh he stole from a box of snacks your parents mailed to you for a small taste of home to send him into a coughing fit so bad you almost felt bad for the guy. "You can't handle the hot cheetohs my parents send. I really don't know what to tell you other than you are not built like that, please stop."

"First of all, I don't know what you're talking about," you shake your head with a sigh as the argument continues. How someone could be this persistent to eat something their stomach can't handle, you don't know. "And second, since then I've become a man." That was literally two weeks ago.

You shrug with a sigh, "if you really want it then." You did your part in warning him, the rest is on Gojou. With a whispered 'yes!' that was far too smug, Gojou opened his mouth expectantly once more and you finally relented in feeding him.

One second.

Two seconds-

That's all it takes before Gojou's face contorts in pain and displeasure.

"Geez, how you can eat this kind of stuff, you can't even taste it over the spice!" Wordlessly, you set down your chopsticks to pass over a napkin and watch as he spits the noodley mush into it. The amusement from watching Gojou fan his tongue and lips like they're on fire is indescribable. "Why would you let me eat this?!" If you were worried about sharing the much-too-sugary couple's drink beforehand, you don't anymore as your classmate makes quick work of ingesting it.

"You said your tastebuds had gotten stronger since the last time."

"And you trusted me?!" Gojou's sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose to show wide blue eyes in disbelief.

"I didn't," there are a few giggles from the table to your right and you have to purse your lips together to stop yourself from joining them. Your 'boyfriend' just looks at you in utter disbelief and betrayal, rambling on and on about his woes. "Oh stop being a baby, you spat it out so you'll be fine now. Here," you reach over to grab his fork, lifting a piece of whipped cream covered waffle with a thin slice of strawberry to boot. "Heal with the power of sugar." Grumbling all the while, your boyfriend of the hour clamped his mouth down on the goods. "Better?"

When you get another mumble but no complaints, you decide that's a 'yes' and go back to your own food. "Just try not to overdo it with the sweets. We still have cake and ice cream later." You love whipped cream on waffles as much as the next person, but the amount on Gojou's plate is unholy.

"This is better than the hellfire you call food anyway," your eyes roll but your mood is surprisingly at a high. Not even Gojou and his dramatics can spoil a meal, it seems. You also can't deny that knowing he won't be touching your udon the rest of your time there also lifts your spirits. "This is the perfect amount of sweet. The perfect amount of anything," your eyes dart between the whipped cream and your classmate, deadpan disbelief all over your face. "I'm serious. The strawberries aren't sweet so it all works out." When the disbelief doesn't leave your face, Gojou points his fork in your direction. "Try it."

Reluctant, you lean over to take a tentative bite. Oh.

You blink and make a noise of pleasant surprise. The tartness of the strawberries really balanced out the sweetness of the whipped cream. "Not bad," you lick the leftover whipped cream on your lips as Gojou continues gorging himself. From the corner of your eye, you see the people a table away giggling and whispering at your exchange.

You must be selling the couple's bit quite well.

"People in this country really make a big deal of indirect kisses," you say quietly enough for the two of you, returning to your own spicy goodness. "I didn't even know what they were when I moved here. I shared food and drinks like this all the time back home." Cousins, friends and other neighborhood kids that dance across your memories over the seasons from soda to ice cream to fruit. That came to a crashing halt when, during an after school heist at a burger joint, you nearly died drinking lychee soda and angled the straw for your friend Hide to try. Then everyone kept on making jokes about us being a thing and it started getting too awkward to hang around each other because he thought I had a crush on him. Food sharing politics were different from country to country, what a twist. "I guess that's a piece of culture shock no one ever really tells you about when you move to a new country."

Gojou shrugs at your nonchalant observations, "it's not a big deal for me. I just eat what I want."

"That's because you're a food thief."

Another shrug, a lack of denial. Details, details. A comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you continue eating.

This isn't so bad actually, you look out the window, watching as passersby make their own ways to their destinations. Living out their lives while you're some random extra eating drunken udon in a window.

To them, you're not [Full Name], you're just a random face they won't remember if they'll even see you in the first place. It's feelings like that fills you melancholy and fascination. No curses, no sorcerers and no Jujutsu Jesus. You wonder briefly if Gojou ever has such thoughts. To one part of the world he's the one who changed its very balance. To another part, he's just some guy. Just some random guy who happens to have a penchant for wearing sunglasses indoors. If it ever looms over his mind, you can't tell nor are you close enough you think he'd tell you. Maybe he tells Suguru or something. You see a flash of white and red in your peripheral vision and when you look, there's another mouthful of waffle in your face. This is such a weird combination of food, yet you take another bite anyway. You raise a few noodles of your own and mumble over a mouthful, "want another bite of mine?"

"Yeah no, I'm good," the white-haired sorcerer replies without missing any beats and you snicker. You wonder how much time will pass before he decides to test his luck with spice all over again. You have no doubt it won't take long.

A temporary truce between Gojou and the We Hate Gojou Alliance and on your birthday of all days. Well, almost your birthday. The small day set between you both to encapsulate both. Apparently, when his obnoxious levels and extreme lack of respect is dialed down to a 2, Gojou is a lot more tolerable than usual. Talk about a birthday surprise.

The rest of your lunch is eaten in relative silence but it isn't uncomfortable, you decide as you stuff yourself with a mixture of savory and sweet. Gojou tops off the last of the waffles with a satisfied with stretch of his arms before you split the bill. Good gods, I love a discount, you sigh in satisfaction as you finally make your way to leave. "We should probably start heading back to the school right?" It shouldn't take that long to set up a party. There's only one cake. "We probably have a few hours until they're done with the cake and setting up decorations."

"Might as well walk off all the calories so there's room for later," he shrugs and he's about to put his hands in his pocket before opting to grab your hand. "Let's go pet Hachiko or something."

Off to Shibuya you go then.

The grand finale of your pretending to be a couple is nothing special. You simply walk out the door, matching smiles on your faces as you pass by the staff.

When you finally exit the building, you shudder at the cold autumn wind that hit your face. Your hand tightens around Gojou's, clutching for warmth instinctively. Of course his hands are permanently warm. "What are you, a furnace?" Gojou grins smugly when you lift your intertwined hands, scrutinizing his with a squint somewhere between envy and curiosity. He has nice hands, you note. They're soft, but not so unbelievably soft you would think he was some civilian. His palms are a touch coarse, but nothing uncomfortable to hold, with no scars or blemishes to be seen. Must be the perk of utilizing Limitless at his leisure. "Why do you get to be blessed with warm hands?"

"Maybe the universe just likes me more," he replies with ease.

Considering his future is the one that's boring and yours is the one marked with death, that must truly be the case.

"Must be."

Happy Birthday to us.

index | previous chapter | next chapter

Extra

If you're wondering what you got for your birthday: Shoko and Utahime both tipped in to get you a Yamashita Tatsuro CD. Mei Mei just tossed over a gift card and called it a day. Suguru thoughtfully got you a book next in the line of a series you're fond of. And Gojou? Well, you got to be in his presence and it was actually tolerable. Congratulations?

[ohallthecrushes]

"Cupcake"

A/N: I decided I'm not back at writing, I'm just going to write sometimes. It puts less pressure on me, therefore it's easier for me to sit and write. If that makes sense. xd it's my first try with The Sandman series and this is a comedy scene my brain has imagined.

Summary: Reader and Morpheus are together, but it's the beginning of their relationship. She accidentally calls him pet name for the first time ever and it gets very awkward very quickly.

You were sitting in a library surrounded by old tomes and ancient text. Focused on a book in front of you, you were trying to figure out what it said. A pen was shifted between your fingers before it hit a paper and you wrote down the first line of a spell in your notebook. It was important not to make a mistake in translation. One word wrong and you could accidentally turn someone into a frog... or worse.

Luckily for you Morpheus was there beside you willing to help you decipher the archaic language that had been used in that book. One line after another the spell was getting more and more clearer. You smirked to yourself as you were writing down another line. You almost had it all, including most of the ingredients.

The pen parted from the paper as you looked at the book. Morpheus leaned closer to you to show you that one letter was changing meaning of the whole sentence. His long finger tapped softly on the text in front of you. You had no doubt that without Morpheus' help, you would have spent all night here getting frustrated and tired.

"... combines with this word, changing its meaning"

You nodded.

"No wonder ancient spells are that tricky, the language is very complex. Nowadays spells are simple - you just need to find words that rhyme." You joked as you glanced at Morpheus.

"I'm quite sure it's more than just that." He replied with a serious tone.

"I was joking..." you said as you smiled playfully. "Of course it's more than a good rhyme that makes a spell."

Morpheus didn't always get your sense of humour, but you didn't mind explaining to him your jokes or telling him when you were being sarcastic. It would take time before he sensed your joking manner and before you got his more subtle sense of humour. After all you were still getting to know each other.

As you were writing down the last things on the list of ingredients, you started to wonder what would you do with all the time you saved because of Morpheus help. Perhaps you could take him to go for a stroll in the Dreaming garden and lay down under a tree or you could go visit the amphitheatre or stay in the library and talk for hours... There were endless possibilities and it was never boring with your lover by your side. You knew that whatever you'd decide to do tonight didn't matter as long as it was you and Morpheus.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't realize that Morpheus noticed that your mind had wandered somewhere else.

"Perhaps you shall pay more attention to your notes Y/N..." His dreamy voice caught your attention. "...you wouldn't want to unintentionally create a wrong spell."

"No, I would definy not, Cupcake..." You replied half absent-minded as you tried to focus on your notes to quickly finish the translation.

The thing was... Thinking about your date with Morpheus had distracted you already and it was hard not to let your mind wander where tonight's events could lead you. Even though his voice drew your attention, your mind was half here, half somewhere... else, and it took a second or two before you realized what had just left your mouth.

"Cupcake?" Morpheus arched an eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the unexpected nickname.

Awkward silence filled the room. Your eyes widened, and you immediately regretted the slip of your tongue.

Oh god you thought. Did I just call Lord Morpheus a Cupcake?! The powerful lord of dreams and nightmares, neon years old a... cupcake? And he heard that?!

You didn't know what to say, you definitely weren't that close to use pet names, and considering his reserved and dignified demeanor, you wondered if he felt offended.

"What?" That's all your mouth managed to say as you turned your head to look at him.

"I believe you called me a dessert." He maintained his composure, but a hint of amusement appeared behind his voice.

"Uh, I... I didn't mean... I just... it just slipped out. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... call you that." You stammered embarrassed as your eyes fixed on the book.

"I see..." He listened as you fumbled to explain yourself. A mixture of surprise and amusement swirled like the ethereal mist of dreams in his mind. His expression softened ever so slightly, the corners of his lips hinting at a rare trace of amusement.

"Yeah, it's just a pet name..." You tried to recover. "A playful one."

You couldn't look him in the eye, feeling embarrassed by your unintentional slip-up. It was awkward.

"I understand, it's merely a... surprising choice of endearment." He replied.

You blushed. You cleared your throat, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

"So... About the ingredients..."

"Indeed." He agreed. "Let us focus on the matter at hand..."

[sh0esuke]

" Turn Back " — ENGLISH VERSION.

𝗦𝘁𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : Solas

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : ❝ Lavellan sometimes came awake from dreams in which her lover watched her sadly from across an endless distance. If they were more than simple dreams she could not say, for every time she reached for him, he vanished into nothing. Still she searched, and dreamed, and waited, for a way to change the Dread Wolf's heart. ❞

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : none.

ENG : PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORKS. If you want to translate it, ask me first then we can talk about it. If you want to find me on Wattpad, my account is in my bio, this is the ONLY ONE i have.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 : 𝟑,𝟕𝟎𝟎.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are heavily appreciated. All types of support are ! Thank you !! <3

A/N : English isn't my first language so I apologise if you find any incoherence/mistake in this work. I still hope you can enjoy it ! I absolutely adore Solas so of course I had to write something about him. It's been a pleasure !!

Dorian’s words come back into my mind as the softness of my silk sheets caress my skin. Its coldness makes me shiver, a sigh escapes my lips. Like a dagger slicing through my belly and lacerating my guts, they mutilate me, break me, and hurt my heart. I hear his voice; it resonates deeply within me. Every syllable is articulated with caution. He’s aware that it doesn’t matter how he will approach this subject; it will bring me sorrow, if nothing more. 

« My dear friend, you seem quite exhausted lately. Have you been sleeping well ? » 

I sob. 

As I open my eyes, drifting off into a deep sleep, I know I don’t need to panic. I know where I am. 

Which only makes my suffering worse. 

Only a pinch of hope manages to get into the mix. Bitterly salty, it makes me hiccup. I don’t know what to do.  I went through worse in battle, lost worse for much less; there is, nonetheless, wounds that never heal. Others that keep hurting you years after they’ve healed. I’m not laying on my bed anymore, and the temperature has dropped. My chest feels sour, my breath is short. By the time I've reviewed this place of torture, I'm spinning around, and tears are blurring my vision. It hurts. I’d give anything to be somewhere else, on the battlefield, fighting enemies from the past. I try to convince myself. 

Anywhere but here. 

This place is familiar. 

Properly speaking, I never set a foot in this forest. I have no idea where to find it. Ferelden ? Orlais ? Storm Coast ? Or even maybe Crestwood ? I must admit I searched its location endlessly, looking for a way to end this madness, it often drove me to the point of insanity. Perhaps this place holds a purpose, a meaning, an escape from these woods which have been torturing me for so long in my dreams. I was, however, never able to find it. 

I needed time to understand. I am aware of what lies ahead: I am doomed. Forced to come back in this place, fall into the same trap, again and again until I go back to hell. A word where I do not belong anymore. 

Not without him. 

The grass I stand on is wild, wet. Thin and beautiful. It soaks my pajama. Drops of water manage to find their way through the fabric and touch my skin. I shiver. I am glad to be wearing shoes at the moment. Unfortunately for me, I am unable to escape this greenery. It is all around me, in the form of bushes, a dense forest whose exit seems distant, if not non-existent, mixed with the humidity in the air. Even the smell finds its way into my lungs. I breathe it in. Its perfume is light, quite pleasant. The coldness in the air, a return to nature, the wilderness that is surrounding me, left alone by the hand of mankind. I could almost enjoy it. 

The trees are numerous. They are not tall, nor thicks, this forest isn’t unusual. It appears to be the type of forest one would see everywhere around the world, especially close to civilization. Nevertheless, I don’t see it ending. My intuition can’t help me, I can’t make a choice : run away to the front or the back. It’s as if my mind had been softened, my spirit calmed. I do not feel the urge to flee, I think of it, but it is rather an idea, which goes away quite fast because it seems ridiculous. I can’t see it as an option, more like an absurdity. An insult. I know where I belong, and it is here. 

I know there is no escape. 

Yet I am still in pain, I suffer. 

The belongings of my heart are in pieces. My only presence here manages to worsen its condition, I can’t do nothing but hold onto my chest, whimper and wish to call for help. 

All the trees look the same, the sky is navy blue, illuminated by the lunar rays of divine silver, the forest holds a rendering mysterious. It scares me. Darkness has taken over this place. I do not know what lies behind. I am left in the dark in an empty circle which is only made of grass. I am on my own. 

And I know what is waiting for me. 

My hands clutch my shirt, I breathe heavily, look around me frantically. My vision becomes blurry. Everything is moving, becomes fuzzy. A hole is being dug in my stomach. A few buttons pop, they fall at my feet only to disappear in the grass. 

I am at loss for words. 

This dream hunts me, like a merciless beast. It takes over me every night, brings me to this cursed place and eats the remains of my soul. It feasts upon my corpse, what is left of me. The more I come here, the more I become broken. I am a shadow of my former self. Nothing but flesh and decay. 

Yet I wouldn't want to leave for anything in the world. Despite my fear and wanting to leave for a safer place in the heat of battle, I do not wish to run away. I know it. I am confused. My heart screams something while my soul screams the opposite, and amidst these cruel exchanges, the truth has lurked there and is whispering in the hollow of my ear what I really want. It knows me. A glimmer of hope, that's what she is, she knows everything about me, aware that through my pain and resentment, I agree to stay here. 

I wouldn't run away from him for the world. 

Not him, not my Solas. 

As I stop looking around, lower my hands to my sides, the inspiration that swells in my chest clears my foggy mind.  It offers me a couple of seconds, allowing me to calm myself. My chest is heavy, and my eyes are watery. Tears threaten to roll down my cheeks at any moment now. Despite it all, I feel a bit stronger. I know what is waiting for me. 

I turn around, knowing he’s here. 

The Dread Wolf. 

Leaning against the trunk of a tree, he gazes at me with folded arms. He is right there. His gaze is piercing, splitting my skull into two heavy pieces. It breaks my heart. 

This cruel God who introduced me to the purest, most devastating feeling in this world. This elf with whom I've shared so much. This man that I love. He's right there. 

He's the reason I am here. 

The moment our eyes met; I froze. His image is enough to take the air out of my lungs, like a violent palm strike, leaving me breathless. 

Not even my hands are moving. It is hard to tell if I am even blinking. 

Previously, he had told me of his desire to end our love affair. He had told me of his devastating plan and persuaded me that I no longer had my place by his side ⸺and this, despite my pleas to accompany him, that our history was only the result of his pure selfishness. According to him, he had finally found the strength to put an end to it. He destroyed me, reduced what little hope I had left at the time to nothing, then cured me of my mark, and finally: left me. He abandoned me. After all those kisses we had exchanged, full of unspoken promises about the future, those nights we had shared, loving each other unconditionally, exploring each other, offering each other pleasure and joy. 

It is hard to believe. 

He is right there, few meters between us showing the ditch separating us. 

I hate it. 

Solas doesn’t say a word. He is wearing the same clothing as the day I found him a few months ago, giving him this Godly look. He appears more alike to the aristocrats from Orlais than anything else, which, inevitably, pains me. I dare to wonder if I ever knew him. I wonder if he is still the man I fell in love with. 

He seems healthy. 

His figure is slender, and he's put on muscle. He offers me a wonderful view from where I stand. I admire him from afar and, unable to help myself, compare him to the many murals I have seen of him, of Fen’Harel. All those paintings showing him in a position of power, guiding or punishing us, mortals. This time, the comparison doesn't seem preposterous; I can almost believe it. 

If only I did... 

His cheeks are as I remember them; hollowed, Solas looks more imposing. He looks straight from a fairy tale ⸺fearless knight, ironic, knowing that I’ve only heard of him from these stories. Far-fetched tales, and confusing to say the least, telling his demonic cruelty. However, having him in front of me, it makes me melt. He is back on his feet, as beautiful as ever. I can’t feel my body, my whole being is focused on him. I observe him to ink his image into my mind. With this, I make him mine. Until the next time we meet, I will keep this image, as soon as I’ll think of him I'll remember it. It will keep me sane. Then, it will break me. 

The mere thought of him already tears me apart. 

His eyes are veiled in sorrow. 

Solas tries to appear nonchalant, yet i see the tears in his eyes. A curtain of bitterness keeps me from understanding what he truly wants. Although, even when we were still together, I'd never really been able to decipher him. 

He was, is and will remain an enigma. 

It is the same everytime he brings me here. Everytime I dream of him. He keeps this same divine appearance, the same expression shredded by pain and suffering. 

I know I can’t get closer, at the moment, I am aware of this and accept my fate. My only concern is him. 

Solas looks at me as if i was nothing but a regret. 

He knows he can’t get closer. 

So many times, has he already succumbed, I am nothing if his greatest sin. It makes me wonder what he regrets so much. 

Does he regret falling for me, giving in ? Or does he regret leaving and not taking me with him ? I know the answer. His silence is however not quite comforting. Between the two of us, he has to suffer the most. I can’t imagine the dilemmas he’s staring at, right now. Especially if this led him into my dreams. 

Does he seek comfort from me ? 

I dream so much of bringing some to him... Even just for a few minutes. 

Thats is all I ask. 

Taking his face in my hands, kissing him like all those previous times he'd given himself over to temptation, shattering every last one of his doubts. To feel the softness of his skin against mine, to softly kiss his lips, then move up his cheek to his temple, finally his forehead. Embracing him, kissing him and cherishing him until the world is reduced to nothing but a pile of ashes. 

He doesn’t know how much I love him. 

Or maybe he does, maybe he’s afraid the unconditional love I feel for him will bring nothing but despair. Knowing his already lost me. 

Taken.

I have been taken. 

All that remains are broken pieces. 

He who loved me so much, he who turned away from his goals long enough to soften me up, to grab hold of my heart so that I could never get my hands on it. To this day, I can only feel what’s left of it, which is why the pain that lingers deeply wound me. Knowing that it is with Solas is enough to reassure me, although the pain only gets worse. He is a shadow of his former self. He who, even today, clings to the meager moments we spent together in my dreams, this silent place, the freshness, nature still untouched, impenetrable. He who desperately wants to see me again. 

He must think it is the last time. 

Just like the others. 

That is the reason as to why Solas is looking at me with such sorrow. His bruised expression, his eyebrows frowned. 

Solas is convinced we won’t see each other again. He has to move on. Our story is done, a mere memory from the past I suppose. To him, at least. But I know he will come back. I know that, just like those previous times, he will soon accompany me in my dream and will drink in my image again. He will contemplate me just as he’s contemplating me at the moment, engraving the features of my face in his mind, and try to make do with them before it becomes unbearable, and he goes off to find me again. 

I am unable to blame him. 

We are the same. 

Mutually we drink in each other. Greedily, eager for the meager crumbs that Solas allows himself to offer, we soak up the other's image. It suits us for the moment, even if it's never really enough. 

Not after falling in love. 

We are identical ; frozen in time. It is impossible for us to move an inch, as if this dream was as fragile as a porcelain doll. Only one movement and it will shatter. Solas is still leaning against the trunk of the tree, he hasn’t stopped looking at me; and I know it well, I only need to look at him in the eyes to understand what he feels. I do not pretend to know him. I do not pretend to predict his next move. However, I can recognize the troubled gaze of the man that I love. I can recognize watery eyes when I see them, as they beg for forgiveness. I love him so I understand. I feel his pain. 

The sorrow engraved on his face pains me. It is a heavy weight on my chest. 

Weakens my stomach. 

An unpleasant feeling for an equally bitter dream. 

Solas does not see me as his lover anymore. I am no longer the one with whom he saw the wonders of this world, I am no longer the one who made him laugh, the one who discovered him, the one who loved him and the one he loved. 

I am a memory. 

Frozen in place like a statue, a fragment of the past. A mistake. This is how he must see me. I am not meant to move. 

An image of the past. 

If I move, he will leave. 

Just like the previous times, where I had tried to reach him ⸺ a desperate act guided by my unconditional love for him, I will only have to blink, and he will be gone. My gesture would have made him go away. 

I suppose he can’t see me move; he is not ready for it. Not yet, not ever. My mere image is enough to sadden him, I can only imagine what my voice or my hand touching him might do. 

I would like for him to explain to me where we are, I would like to understand. I know he thinks that I can’t. But I do not care. These majestic woods, surprisingly dense, and this starry sky above us, giving his soft pupils a sparkling glow. I would give anything for him to talk to me. To have him explain. 

But this is what love is about. 

To love is to turn back. To reach out. 

And it is exactly what I do. In. 

I do not care, in this moment, if I scare him away. I convinced myself that if I don't do anything, my feelings were not real to begin with, it would all have been a lie that would have lulled myself into for some sinister purpose. If I don't go after Solas now, then what is my love for him really worth ? How can I find the strength not to approach him while he is facing me ? 

To love is to sin. 

To love is to give in to temptation regardless of the outcome, to fall into a ditch with the risk of sprawling miserably, all the while hoping to be caught up, cajoled. I turned around because I love him. I reach out to him because I love him. And I always will. 

I will always turn back. 

It is as simple as that. 

I love him enough to risk losing him, I love him enough to feel him running away from me. 

Just as he succumbs to temptation and haunts my dreams. He loves me enough to sin again. 

Such is our tragedy.  

Hell, and heaven.  

Joy, and despair. 

We keep finding each other, only to part again. Its reasoning is beyond me. And I must say I do not care, not when I know it is my only chance to see him again. 

So, my hand is outstretched, I am reaching out for him, determined to grab hold of him before he leaves me once again. I refuse to let him slip through my fingers. I'm hurrying. If I am fast enough... This time I hope he'll stay, bathe me in his comforting embrace and never hurt me again. I hope he'll pick me up. Maybe he'll even tear me away from this vile existence where I must make do with the mere memory of his image etched in my mind to ease my pain. I reach out because to love is to want. I reach out because despite the despair he causes me, nothing will change the way I feel about him. The grass at my feet hits my pajama bottoms. The air whips my face. 

The moonlight caresses my skin. 

It feels nice. 

It is too good to be true. 

Where are we ? 

I feel myself being pulled back, but I'm moving forward.  

Solas's eyes widen.  

I'm going to find him, my love. 

My legs feel heavy. Suddenly, I feel as if I am thousands of feet in the air. My breathing stops, I am being pulled back. A storm rages, but it doesn't exist. An army of arms holds me back, but I hold on. The woods are calm, undisturbed by our presence, and yet I am shaken. An immense weight weighs on my shoulders. 

I know I won’t make it. 

Solas's silhouette is blurring, it begins to disappear, yet I've only taken three steps. Do they really count when I'm about to stumble ? My mind goes blank. There he goes. He is slipping through my fingers as naturally as a current of water, as fatally as the destiny he is trying to impose on us despite my reluctance. And I am unable to stop him. Yet again... He leaves me behind. 

My hands feel sore. I need to scream. 

Solas is running away from me. 

But I love him. So, I reach out, further this time. 

Enough to see him go and continue to tear me apart a little more, I love him. He takes my heart with him. I can feel it throbbing in the palm of his hand, Solas won't let go. He has held on to it all the way. I can feel him clinging to it. 

When he leaves, I feel vacant once more. My chest has been emptied. And when I finally reach the tree, Solas is no longer here with me. 

I am alone. 

It happened again, he left me. 

The sky is falling, the world is crumbling all around me as my spirit starts to shake. The woods are empty, and I am all that remains. As well as the darkness emanating from the depths of the forest. It is about to devour me. 

In a few seconds, it will banish me. 

I do not even bother looking for him. Solas could be somewhere else, behind me or a few miles away, waiting for me, hoping I'll give him another chance to catch up. It is plausible. These are possibilities whose veracity I've tested many times before. Only, now I know he is gone. He is really gone, and he is not coming back. I do not hold it against him. 

Rather, I thank him. 

His weakness offers us respite, and as much as it shocks and breaks me, it comforts me in the idea that he remains the one I loved. That divine sinner whose goodness is matched only by his regret and sorrow. My benefactor. 

My tormentor. 

I do not care if he leaves, not when I know he will come back to me. I know he will. Because Solas loves me. He will visit me again, because it is our destiny : the tragedy that is our history. An insurmountable sorrow. 

It is a vast wound, left wide open as a token of his kindness, which he tries to heal through his visits when midnight approaches and he requires my presence. That is how he loves me, as best as he can. Deep down, I have always known this. Or rather : I consented to it. I have accepted this burden from the moment our eyes met, from the moment he took my hand to close the gap. Sometimes, I can even feel it. His presence on my body, the caress of his kisses, the fiery breath between his lips. I remember it all. 

Tormented soul by his divine duty. 

I would not trade this reality for the world. I will love him no matter what. I won't stop trying to reach him, I won't stop looking for ways out so that we can have our second chance. 

No, I would not trade it for anything else. 

Not even as an immense pain lacerates my chest. Not even as he runs away from me and leaves me to mourn him. 

Not even as my soul is being torn apart. 

Because this is what love is about. And I love him. Endlessly. 

[charaznablescanontoyota]

ok real prompt: bearhands + haircuts

al knows his hair is getting annoyingly long when he starts having to tie it back in a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. he knows it's getting too long when his reflection, distorted in an arts & crafts car mirror, registers at first sight as a specter of his mother. the only reason the mug he's holding doesn't shatter on impact with the floor is because it's made of hard plastic.

he knows better than to try anything with the blunt scissors here. he walks across the bridge to the colosseum, takes a sturdy knife down off the wall, and stares at it, unsure of how to complete the process one-handed. the minotaur on passenger-greeting duty today - demetria, he thinks - gives him a strange look, and al can't summon up anything to say back to her.

"i could shave it all off," rachel offers, leaning in the doorway, arms folded over her chest. the sunlight from the arena glints off the golden wreath nestled in her hair like a halo. "or color it, if you want to go, like, the full crisis route. the mall's got a store that sells hair dye."

she has a gift, sometimes, for knowing what's bothering him. al supposes it's not hard to tell this time. not with him standing barefoot and shirtless in the colosseum hall, hair loose around his face, staring at himself reflected in the wide blade of the knife.

"i just want it cut," he says.

"how short?" rachel asks. al hears her footsteps against the stone floor but doesn't look up at her until her hand gently pries the knife hilt from his own.

"however you want," he replies, sullen, still too caught up in his own mind to make a decision. he hadn't thought the grief could still unravel him like this after so many years, but sometimes it's a dull ache and sometimes it's a live wire. it's harder when it hits him here; far from home, far from anyone else who knew trisha elric as more than a tertiary character in someone else's story.

rachel moves her free hand to cup the back of his neck, holding him still with a firm curl of her fingers and catching his gaze with her own. her eyes are predator-intense. al knows she can read every raw nerve in him just by scanning his face, but he can't make himself look away.

"you're somewhere else," she murmurs. sometimes she says it jokingly, when his mind wanders. sometimes, like now, she's dead serious. "where did you go?"

al closes his eyes. he breathes slowly, in and out, focuses on rachel's warm fingers resting on the back of his neck, and says, "i'm here now."

"where?" rachel prompts him.

"in the colosseum." he presses the pads of his feet into the floor, feels the grit and dirt dig into his skin. "with you. i couldn't figure out how to cut my hair with one hand."

"very carefully," rachel says, wry.

it wrestles a choked laugh out of him. he opens his eyes to see rachel still nearly nose-to-nose with him, fixed in place, face twisted in an expression that might be relief. al feels a surge of fondness for her that sits in his chest, warm at the center of his ribcage.

"are you good?" rachel asks. she takes a half-step back, but her hand stays on his neck, a grounding tether between the two of them.

"getting there," al says. he feels less in a dream-state, more present. less like ghosts are hanging just over his shoulder. maybe he could get away without impulsively cutting his hair today, but he'd rather this not happen again if he can avoid it.

rachel nods, once, and doesn't press any further.

"i'm not a good hairdresser," she warns him instead. "i'm serious. you might actually have better luck doing it on your own."

he offers her a small smile, and says, "i'll take my chances."