#stars through my fingers like grains of sand

[gladiatorcunt]

Feral feral Anakin fucking you every second of the day because he can’t get enough of you and is overly obsessed

send me coryo, luke castellan, or anakin asks (this is a threat)

implied canon compliant prequels and childhood friend afab royalty reader (basically in padme's place) based on an upcoming fic

This is canon Anakin behavior actually, he's like a big dog with his favorite chew toy. The dog obviously loves the toy a lot but it's because of his love that the toy becomes well used. No matter how tattered it becomes, the dog will still curl around it and spend its days licking the hell out of it until it withers away.

I think that because of how he grew up, just a little boy on some ball of sand whose life really didn't belong to him, as soon as he's free from that he just unravels. I love Anakin being written as more unhinged or even slightly like an eldritch horror, because suddenly he has this big destiny laid out in front of him and the tethers holding his soul together inevitably come unhooked. I think that he's wired like that from the beginning, very passionate but without a means to express it.

So, when he meets you, little royal heir with all the stars of the galaxy in your eyes, he tells a familiar story about an angel and from then on, it's over for him. Every moment of his life orbits around the sun in his solar system, you.

The first think he thinks when he sees you again, is how your moans would echo off the windows when he eats you out on one of the couches. Then he imagines your perfectly manicured hands clawing delicious ribbons down his back while he rabidly pounds your sopping wet pussy against the wall of your huge walk-in closet in your apartment. He'd have to hold a hand over your mouth, but he wouldn't do a thing to clean up the slicks that drips out of your pussy onto the floor. You'd pout as you'd rush to get ready before Obi-Wan came back, and all he'd be able to do in response is hook his chin over your shoulder and smile.

"No, it's because I'm so in love with you."

You're leaning against a balcony overlooking a lake in Naboo and all he can think about as he strokes a shy finger down your back is hiking your dress up and bending you over it. You're chained to a pillar in between him and Obi-Wan, and when all is said and done, he wishes he killed everybody that was relishing in your suffering in that arena and fucked you with their blood coating his body. He could go on forever until the last grain of sand on Tatooine flies away. He'd have gotten you barefoot and pregnant immediately if the leash around his neck was any looser.

No matter the fantasy or the moment, you always have at least one mark on you. He's not patient enough for hickies and his fingers move too quickly for any serious bruises to form on your body. He favors bite marks, near perfect impressions of his teeth etched in your soft skin. He doesn't bite to tear, just does his repeated 'chomp!'s without a single thought in his head; your thighs bear the brunt of it. Anakin likes when drops of blood bead at the surface of the bites, because then he can lick the bites soothingly. You usually have to run your fingers through his hair to get him to come back to himself when he starts doing it on autopilot with his eyes rolled back.

"Yes, yes, yessssss.... love fucking my cunt, missed making love to my sloppy pussy. Taking my dick so well, keep breathing with me, my love. That's it, just like that."

His way of saying good morning is languid strokes deep in your guts. His way of saying good night is crazed thrusts that have him putting it back it when his frenzied pace causes his length to slip out. He has is so hard sometimes, determined to carry the entire galaxy on his shoulders with you on top of it. You can the rising anger that builds within him when everything he does to prove himself goes unrecognized. The best way he has to ignore all of that outside responsibility is knocking your sweaty body up the bed while you're clutching the headboard for dear life.

Anakin's emotions bleed from him so openly, and all you have to do is drink them in. Because even though he wasn't free when he met you, you owned him them with his gift around your neck. You own him now, your cervix kissing his mushroom tip in its own display of affection. He is supposed to live his life with the intention to be the force's son, but he is burning to ash faster than he is fulfilling his destiny; at least he can keep you and your future children warm.

[planetsage]

NEW PIN ! ꒰ 🪷 ANYTHING 𖧧˚⋆ʚɞ ── kento nanami 𝜗𝜚 .

<- SAVE ?

contains. sfw, angst ish but only bc ……. but overall fluff. creator note. this was a request from @ateohsixxxx. i listened to ‘vibe with me’ on repeat writing this and a few other songs. hopefully you like <33 sorry if i totally butchered what you had in mind this started off as smut then pure angst then .. this so! also tagging @lacyohlacyyy bc youre the biggest nanami luver ik!

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the foamy ocean waves gently lapped against the darkened shore, white crests illuminated by the final breaths of daylight. each wave woven by mother nature’s gentle hands carries with it a soft sizzle as it caresses the shore, leaving behind a glistening film that tenderly kisses each shell, each grain of sand with its elements. the soft hum of their rhythm blends beautifully, creating a lullaby—nature’s lullaby— that strokes at your sandy ear.

the other rests against nanami’s chest where his heart chimes in to sing a chorus against his ribs. your body curled into his. intertwined.

cool air that carries a salty tang fights the faint smell of your sunscreen for dominance over your senses, sweeping over you, blooming goosebumps, but nanami’s warm embrace soothes and chases them away. his arm draped over your frame, fingers delicately tracing patterns and shapes over the little hairs that stand on your back.

peaking over the flat line of the horizon, the sun sets and dips, leaving an afterglow that basks the sky in an array of ambers and roses and amethysts.

you had always known of nanami’s dream to travel to malaysia.

late at night, in the quiet intimacy, when your slowed breaths tricked him into thinking he’d lost you to sleep’s tender grasp, he’d kiss your head and whisper against your scalp how he wished you two could disappear to the little country. he’d build a quaint beach house that overlooks the sea, where you two could grow old and sit in creaky little rocking chairs— you clacking needles together, knitting some colorful scarf as your grandchildren’s light feet padded through the living room.

family.

for your 1 year anniversary, you brought part of his dream to fruition. a one-week getaway, a promise to the future. a gesture filled with love and hope. an attempt to capture the essence of his dream, if only for a short while.

the setting sun brushed its last few strokes of gold against the sky before letting the stars take over and peek through. nothing else existed outside of this moment. outside of him.

as if reading your thoughts, he shifted. pulling you closer … closer. his breath warm against your hair, “thank you”

until then, the silence had been filled by breaths that slowly fell in sync. by families that squealed, packing up, loading their cars with sandy feet and arms, and sleepy, sun-kissed children. noisy seagulls chased by eager dogs dragging grinning owners down the shore.

you smiled up at him, your eyes reflecting the twinkling stars that decorated the velvet sky. “you don’t have to thank me, ken.” your reply is soft. he makes you soft. “this is as much for me as it is for you. i wanted us to just … have a place where we could forget everything else, y’know? even if it’s just for a little while.”

“i know,” his voice barely rang above a whisper. as if speaking any louder would break the fragility of the tender moment.

“but it means more than you can imagine, my love. being here with you... it’s something i’ve always wanted, but never— never thought i’d have.”

there’s a faint crack in his voice. a fissure in the cadence you’ve only known to soothe, and love and reassure.

and an ache tugs your heart, a deep, deep throb mirroring his own. you gently reach up, cupping his warm cheek in your hand so softly, holding his actual beating heart, “we can have it. one day, we can make this our reality. we can have the little house by the sea, the— the family. everything.”

nanami’s gaze traces onto the shore, the brown in his eyes reflecting the way the waves dance and gather in solace.

the scene before him blurs.

“do you really believe that?”

“i do”

the night continued to wrap you both in a warm embrace and his face grew soft hearing your words, how reassured you sounded. how confident in him. in your dream for the both of you. deeply set wrinkles smooth and he nods, “mm. i want to believe in a future where we can have everything we’ve dreamed of, too”

“then let’s make it happen.”

with a faint smile, nanami leaned down, letting his lips purse and press against yours softly. tenderly.

“i love you,” he said simply, his voice carrying the weight of all the emotions he can’t quiet put into words; there just aren’t any in the dictionary that could ever, ever, ever convey in purest form how much you mean to him, “more than anything in this world.”

“i love you too,”

the stars continued to shine their ancient light upon you and the ocean continued to whisper its eternal lullaby; you lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms.

“always.”

© planetsage 2024 all rights reserved. no part of this may be reproduced in any form.

[strawberrystepmom]

nsfw - mdni. f!reader, gojo and reader are in a semi established relationship aka idiots in love. they are skinny dipping!!!!!!!!! he’s a little mushy here ngl. wc 1142

“Have you ever skinny dipped before?”

Satoru’s question catches you off guard as you both watch the sunset over the horizon, your knees pressed to your chest while the gentle roar of the ocean drowns out any other sound you could possibly hear for miles.

Except for him, of course.

Turning your face to look at him, you raise a brow and make a show of absentmindedly brushing grains of sugary sand off of your thigh. He tilts his head and waits, surprisingly patient, but takes note of the way you chew your bottom lip with a half smile before finally answering.

“Have you?”

It’s not the retort he was expecting and you can tell immediately, his uncovered eyes widening as you unfold your legs and stretch them out in front of you.

“Of course. Tons of times.”

He’s lying but what else is he supposed to do?

You’re dressed in your yellow bikini - something stupid you dug out of the back of your dresser drawer for this trip just in case the two of you could find time to stop at the beach - and he watches as the strings tying the flimsy fabric sag after a day of being taut across your body.

If he untied them, he bets he’d feel indentations in your skin from the ties. Little patterns he could drape his fingers across, something only he’d get to see.

“Was it as magical as the movies make it look?”

Your voice makes him shift his gaze off of the crease where your thigh and hip meet and back up to your face, sunkissed and stunning even as night falls around the two of you. The beach is empty, almost surprisingly so, and part of you wonders if his question was an invitation rather than a stroke of curiosity.

He shrugs.

“Would’ve been more fun with better company.”

You snort, one of his favorite sounds, and he wonders who you think he has done it with. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for it to have been Shoko and Suguru at one point in his life. Maybe it was with someone you’ve never met, a mysterious stranger who was lucky enough to rove their eyes across each blue vein beneath his pale skin in the moonlight just like this.

“Like me?”

The question is loaded and you both know it, meeting the others’ gaze with equal parts amusement and uncertainty. Your face feels warmer than it did under the blazing midday sun when he looks down at you through his lashes and nods.

There’s something almost uncharacteristically shy about the way he looks right now. It’s hard enough to tell him no on any given day, it’s damn near impossible when he looks at you like that. You look around the beach to make sure it’s truly as empty as it looks and sounds.

Not a soul in sight besides him, the one who makes the stars seem less dazzling in comparison and the one you’re almost certain you’d give your heart to a hundred times over if he asked.

Without another thought, you shrug.

“I’ve already given you a few of my first times, what’s one more?”

A grin spreads across his face as you reach behind you rise to standing, brushing any excess sand off of your legs, and head toward the water’s edge. He waits back for a moment, watching your every step. He scrambles to run toward you when you look over your shoulder with a salacious half smile, your fingers making quick work of the knot at the base of your neck.

“Let me help you,” he offers while he bounds over, lithe and long fingers quickly handling the knot in the middle of your back. Your top flies off without a second thought and you don’t feel as embarrassed as you assumed before taking it off.

It’s exhilarating, even more so when you look up to see the faint dusting of pink across Gojo’s nose and cheeks. Your hands move next to your bottoms and you watch his every glance while you untie one side and then the other, fabric fluttering to the sand below.

Stepping closer to the water, you dip your toe into the waves and yelp at the coolness. It doesn’t stop you from continuing, walking until the water is to your knees and your thighs and eventually covering your hips. He gapes from the shoreline and you pout, almost too far out for him to tell but close enough he knows exactly what you’re about to say.

“Come on, Satoru. You’ve never been shy before.”

The words are what have him reaching for the waistband of his trunks, pulling them down over his muscled thighs and your breath catches seeing him just as you imagined he’d look in this moment.

Otherworldly. Ethereal. Glowing, even. He rivals the stars, the moon, the men you used to dream about after sneaking into your mom’s romance book stash.

If you weren’t so eager to get one up on him tonight with his flustered state you’d say those things aloud but instead you let him wonder. You watch him enter the water until it’s knee deep, thigh deep, hip deep, and you let him come to you and scoop you up in the water.

You little siren, he thinks. It has to be true, water sparkling across your shoulders and arms like gems.

Gathered in his arms, bare chest pressed to bare chest as you situate your legs around his waist, you giggle and crane your neck to kiss his cheek.

“I know you’ve never done this before,” you tease and he grumbles under his breath that he’s been caught. You simply giggle and kiss him again, your lips finding his own quickly while his arms wrap around your torso.

“How’d you know?”

Shrugging, you smile.

“Good intuition, what can I say?”

He smirks and without warning, he walks the two of you deeper into the water until it covers your chest and half of his torso, his eyes heavily lidded as they look down at you.

He’s a vision.

You love him so much it’s almost painful and you have to look away, enjoying the view of the glistening moon across the surface of the water in the distance.

“For what it’s worth,” he captures your attention again and you smile while letting your hands dangle off of his shoulders. “I’m glad this is my first time.”

He dips his head and kisses you again, his lips salty from the gentle sea breeze. You memorize the taste knowing it’ll become synonymous with this night, with him, with the way he shines brighter than the moon.

“Good enough company?”

Your tone is teasing and you reach up the back of his neck to absentmindedly play with the hair growing at the base of it.

“The best I could ever ask for.”

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

Extra: The Night Before Rio De Janeiro

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Discord

Hunters who are forever hunted, always time-counting.

Often, they dream of drowning.

Water dyed in crimson, they found themselves sinking in.

They felt like puppets, crimes stuffed like cotton within. 

Ordered by a man behind a desk, their burdens grow.

Pulled by the string master behind the show.

Living in the darkness of night.

A sacrifice without a name nor a shed of light.

Nocturne of their nightmares continues, lasting and drawn.

Through each fire they make, the heart begins to wan.

Sinners who have taken others’ mantles of transgressions.

None are sentenced guilty in their visions.

A ghost, set out, shrouded in the mists of their deeds to catch another ghost.

Pray tell, oh, one who stand unmoving from their post.

Draw the curtains, which is the good you perceive?

Rather than good, which is the lesser evil you believe?

Anointed demon inhibiting other demons.

Group of people, neither good nor bad, for reasons.

On the clock, in this endless cycle of hunting, everyone hides scars.

Never linger, regardless, further into the shadows on a night without stars.

Such as your time would cease to continue

The Night Before the Mission in Rio De Janeiro

Jonathan Price scanned you from head to toes, making you tilt your head to the side and raise your brow. He kept his eyes on you for a minute, before he let out a sigh. “You surely know how to keep my boys entertained,” he spoke in a low voice, grabbing a handgun suspended on the wall. You watched him step into the range and aim at the target meters from where he stood.

“I guess, we vibe?” You answered, unsure of your words, and snatched a copy of his gun. You walked into the range and stood beside him, raising both of your arms as you gripped with comfort and fired. “I mean, your boys are good at making conversations. I, being talkative depends on—”

“Tell me,” he shot a bullet straight into the middle of the target, making the loud noise cut you off, “why did Shepherd bring you to us?”

You stared at the bullseye he just made. “For more manpower—” you stopped as he turned to you with the gun aimed at your forehead. “Uh, what’s this for, sir?” You dropped your arms down to your side.

“You are not normal,” he declared, finger staying on the trigger. “You don’t flinch with a gun on your head. Shepherd refers to you as a tool.”

You rolled your eyes and clicked your tongue. “He believes what he believes. He says what he says. That’s his weakness and, it should be your weapon.” You let your gun drop with a thud on the floor, making his eyes flicker down at your feet for a second before his attention locked on you. 

“And why should I listen to you?”

“Because in the long run, you will need me.” You smiled. “Time is running out. Emperor is rising.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

You pointed a finger up. “His first target will be the golden eagle who soars in the sky, his shadow hounds, and those who take one for one.”

Price scoffed. “Yes, you are making sense right now.” He returned your smile, but it quickly dropped as the nozzle of his gun met your skin. “Who the fuck is targeting us, and why do you know about this?”

“I am the one the Czar calls his princess.”

The Captain’s eyes widened.

A black sheep of the herd, branded a criminal under the eyes of the one who has declared to make people pay their Price.

Yet, not only the Ghosts of the past hunt down what had gotten away, slipped away like grains of sand from their hands.

A man, obedient of the time, an emperor of his ideals seeks to bring the black sheep into his arms.

Will the Shepherd who had captured the sheep be able to keep it?

Will the other take back what was his?

Was the black sheep truly what it seems?

Or was it a wolf who brings snapdragons everywhere it goes?

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own / Discord

Taglist: @yyiikes , @the-faceless-bride , @cassiecasluciluce , @annoyingstrawberryballoon @unicorngirly1, @thriving-n-jiving, @squidalapobre, @tallicaside @eustassh

[checkoutmybookshelf]

You Have My Attention: Discworld's Death Books' First Lines

The wonderful Sir Terry Pratchett needs no introduction. Introductions do help with books, though, so let's see how the five Death books catch their readers from their very first lines.

This is the bright candlelit room where the lifetimes are stored - shelf upon shelf of them, squat hourglasses, one for every living person. pouring their fine sand from the future into the past. The accumulated hiss of the falling grains makes the room roar like the sea. This is the owner of the room, stalking though it with a preoccupied air. His name is Death.

-- Mort

The Morris dance is common to all inhabited worlds in the multiverse. It is danced under blue skies to celebrate the quickening of the soil and under bare stars because it's springtime and with any luck the carbon dioxide will unfreeze again. The imperative is felt by deep-sea being who have never seen the sun and urban humans whose only connection with the cycle of nature is that their Volvo once ran over a sheep.

-- Reaper Man

Where to finish? A dark, stormy night. A coach, horses gone, plunging through the rickety, useless fence and dropping, tumbling into the gorge below. It doesn't even strike an outcrop of rock before it hits the dried riverbed far below, and erupts into fragments.

-- Soul Music

Everything starts somewhere, although many physicists disagree. But people have always been dimly aware of the problem with the start of things. They wonder aloud how the snowplough driver gets to work, or how the makers of dictionaries look up the spelling of the words. Yet there is the constant desire to find some point in the twisting, knotting, ravelling nets of spacetime on which a metaphorical finger can be put to indicate that here, here, is the point where it all began...

-- Hogfather

According to the First Scroll of Wen the Eternally Surprised, Wen stepped out of the cave where he had received enlightenment and into the dawning light of the first day of the rest of his life. He stared at the rising sun for some time, because he had never seen it before.

-- Thief of Time

[withonly-sweetheart]

Bloody Dove

You didn't know the effect a vampire's eyes could have on you, or your life. Fooled yourself into thinking you were his pretty little dove, didn't you? Well, all pretty things must rot eventually.

a/n: aight... so... uhm... @eyesofsix UR ART WILL FOREVER HAVE ME IN A CHOKEHOLD... LOOK WHAT U MADE ME DO 😔 this one's short and sweet like u <333

the second pic in the banner of leon is by them, go check them out i cannot tell you how talented they are all my moots are so talented i cant anymore 😭

tw: mentions of blood, character death, gore, stuff like that i dont know if i can classify this as dead dove actually but just in case!

wc: 1.3k

The night was cloaked in darkness, the type only a small, secluded village could offer. The moon hangs low in its humble abode, accompanied by twinkling stars as its silvery light casts eerie shadows that dance up to you, interrupted by an occasional passing car.

It’s so quiet you can hear the wind whispering eerily outside. 

Equally eerie is the man leaning against the light post, eyes reflecting light like twin stars that never leave your motions as you approach. It’s unsettling, to say the least, so after a few minutes, you turn to glare at him.

“Do you need something, sir?” you hiss.

“You’re out late,” he remarks, voice smooth and velvety, carrying a hint of amusement. There’s something hypnotic about his tone, an intensity that makes it hard for you to respond, and his expression tells you nothing more.

“I'm traveling,” you reply grudgingly, trying to make it obvious that you don’t want any small talk.

But his gaze is fluid, languid, uncaring. “Strange time of year to be traveling.”

“Yeah, well, I hear Canada is pretty nice right about now,” you grumble.

Surprisingly, that sparks a soft laugh from him, something unsettling when compared with his mysterious demeanor. The man's lips curl into a sly smile, his eyes glinting with an unknown intent. 

"Aren’t you funny?" he murmurs. 

On second thought, maybe booking a taxi would be better after all. But just as you’re about to pull your phone out of your pocket, he says something that startles you enough into hesitating.

“It’s become far too deserted, here,” he whispers, almost to himself, so quiet you might’ve missed it if you weren’t strangely tuned in to his voice. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a visitor.”

“I’m not staying for long,” you mutter back, almost as soft.

“Leaving so soon?” he attempts, chuckling dryly. You glance at him through the corner of your eye, admiring how his hair falls in neat waves over his eyes, reaching the corners of his lips, when pulled back reveal unnaturally sharp canines. 

“Mhm,” you say absentmindedly, eyes fixed on his teeth. He catches you watching, and his sly smile widens, revealing what, now exposed to more light, resemble glinting fangs. 

“I might just melt," he purrs, his voice sending a sudden spike of heat spearing into your stomach. “Watch your wandering eyes, darling. They might land a sweet girl like you into unwanted trouble.”

“Trouble?” you say, thoughts slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. “What kind of trouble?”

“Why don’t I just show you? After all, I have you right where I want,” he says, twisting to look at you, eyes softening at the corners, mouth quirking up. “You’re bolder than most, I’ll give you that much.”

"Thanks, I guess," you say, shaking your head to clear the strange haze that falls over your thoughts. "I’m not interested, though."

"Not interested?" he repeats, eyes narrowing. "You’re asking for it with those eyes."

"I’m not asking for anything," you reply firmly. "My attention just wandered for a second. It happens."

"Happens, you say?" His tone remains light, but a tightening around his swirling eyes betray his irritation. "I suppose keeping your eyes to yourself happens to be a good idea, no?'"

“I think I will,” you say defiantly, dipping your chin, not as a sign of submission, but of arrogance that you hope irritates him enough to keep him away from you.

But the silence that stretches the minutes into hours only adds to the guilt that slowly drips onto your back, drenching your shirt, an unpleasant feeling that craves to be satiated.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I mean it, sir-”

“Leon,” he interjects, letting his head fall against the metal of the pole. “Please. Not sir.”

“Leon,” you finish, testing out the name on your tongue. It rolls through your mouth like a sweet caramel, or the iron tang of blood. What? “I, uh, didn’t mean it. Really.”

For a long moment he says nothing, studying you through tawny wisps of hair that escape his neat, uniform lines. Then, with obvious reluctance, he shrugs and flashes a cocky grin that fails to reach his eyes. "As you wish, little dove. No harm done."

Of course, no harm done is never the end.

Not for you. You convince yourself that you have control over everything.

But those eyes…

How could you ever say no to those eyes?

<><><><>

Your opulent surroundings seem normal, as if silently mocking you, the tales of your past seeming to drip from the pearls of blood, running into crimson rivulets from where Leon’s teeth pierce your skin.

“You don’t put up much of a fight, do you?” he muses, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, smearing your memories across his face. In some twisted way, you admit he looks good. “I might start to assume you like this little game we’re playing.”

His eyes refract the little light that passes through your own, turning them an odd shade of green, emerald against your pale skin.

“You shouldn’t, you know,” he whispers, breath tickling your neck, fanning across your strained muscles. “Give in, this quickly. What would happen if someone else got their hands on you?”

The idea seems to spark through his mind, the consequences, everything that might happen, just as he says it. His fingers curl around your arm, and something’s switched.

You wonder why he has such an effect on you, why he’s gotten you helpless under his touch, just the ghosts of his fingertips everywhere. Your aunt must be wondering where the hell you are.

Heaven, you think, intoxicated on a feeling you can’t grasp the word for. Your life drains from every star he pecks into your scarred, far from pristine skin that seems to stretch for miles, being marked like a map.

Leon’s lips find the mountains, follow the rivers, murmur soft, loving compliments against the lakes and ponds between your legs, pooling everything that you feel, caged in his arms and legs, spread out for him to explore.

"Trouble seems to find you regardless, my dear. Perhaps it's in your best interest to remain… unfound, for now,” he suggests.

"And what would keep me from running?” you muse, mind already floating to another plane of existence, staring back down at you, ascending through dimensions.

He smiles, small and mirthless. "Trust is a luxury. I would like to think that you would enjoy being with me forever, no?" His voice sings like bees buzzing, like their sticky honey in your ears, dripping from his tongue, sweet like his words and the pout of his lips as he shifts to nose your chin. 

“Think of how sad I would be if you left. It isn’t healthy, growing so attached to a little dove I’ve met so quickly and must release so soon.”

So you’ve become his anchor to peace, kept in the room of his heart, if only for a moment while you sing cries of pleasure. You can tell from the desperation clear in his voice, close to falling apart, that it’s been quite a while since this has happened.

But before you realize it, your short life soaks his sheets, painting your story in a redundant shade of ruby that sparkles in the moon’s smile.

And you slip from his embrace, the bloody, broken dove he carved you into with his fingers, sharp arrows that shot you from the night sky.

<><><><>

 He doesn’t notice the roll of your eyes until it’s too late. Until you’ve gone limp in his hands, cradled in his arms. He doesn’t understand why you aren’t responding to his gentle nudges until he presses his nose to your throat.

There is no movement. No pulse.

It feels as if the world is his symphony, his to keep, to cherish. Everything around him stills and takes a breath, watching you in your dying glory. 

Leon sighs wearily, slightly disappointed.

He had hoped you would’ve lasted longer than that.

[ccawz]

moments IV

a/n: personal fav is ksm <3 my baseball boy 🩷

warnings: some sad themes in Minho, Felix, and Jeongin’s (mostly Lix) slight nudity in hyunjin’s (not explicitly, it’s implied!)

ot8! x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) established relationships | 1.1k total wc

“Do you think our parallel universe selves are together?” Chan asks quietly, watching patiently for a shooting star to cross the night sky.

Your hand brushes against his, sand follows with it, and you start to regret laying on the sand without a blanket underneath. “I like to think we are.” You reply, “That in every universe I’d find you, or you’d find me, and we’d save each other like we did here.”

Chan doesn’t fight the smile that comes to his face, bringing your hand to his lips to kiss, sputtering when grains of sand land on his tongue.

A laugh comes from you, and Chan melts at the sound. He stares at you like you’re the only one in the world, and in his eyes, you truly are.

“It’s five in the morning.”

At your groggy tone, Minho stares at the clock. Red digits blink tauntingly at him, and he fights the urge to throw the clock across the room. “It’s night over here.”

Silence falls through the line. Minho thinks you’d fallen back asleep– he doesn’t blame you. “I miss you.” He says. He’d only say it when he thinks you aren’t listening. “I want to see you so, so bad.”

He settles onto his bed, looking out the window, staring at the moon who smiles back at him. He scowls. He couldn’t help it. “When I come back home to you, let’s go stargazing.”

He hears you shuffle but doesn’t speak another word. Though his lips curve into a smile when he hears you sleepily mumble out an “okay.”

“Have you taken a break?”

You look at Changbin from the corner of your eye, your typing never stopping even when he’d lean against your desk beside you. “Yes?”

“Honey,” he says, closing his eyes in exhaustion when you don’t acknowledge him any further. “You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep this up.”

“I need you to understand something, Bin.” He nods, lowering himself to his knees to look at you. “I won’t be able to focus on you if this report isn’t done.” He nods again. “I want to be with you, I want to take a break, but I just can’t allow myself to do it right now.” He stands back up, pinching your cheek lightly with a smile.

“I’ll stay with you, maybe get some work done too. Is that okay?” You nod, grateful that he’s always understanding. Even if you’d both be working and not acknowledging each other, just being together was enough for him.

“I think this is cruel and unjust punishment,” Hyunjin says, holding his arms up awkwardly as you mark his skin with dotted lines. “I only ate your food. I thought as a couple we could share things like that.”

“Leftovers are one thing, new food is another.” You say, slapping another sticky note on his body, smiling at the way his eyes close with irritation. “You don’t like me touching you?”

His ears flush red, but the irritation is still apparent on his face as he looks at his body littered with anatomy notes. “I do, but not when it’s study-related.”

“Don’t eat my food then.” You shrug, moving behind him. He feels the marker glide over his shoulder blades, the muscles contracting at the temperature. A kiss on his shoulder makes his body warm, “Thanks for letting me do this.”

“I didn’t,” he grumbles, then in a quieter voice, “You're welcome.”

“Can you wash the dishes?” Jisung looks up at you with pleading eyes, then shuffles over to you when you don’t look up from the magazine in your hands. “Baby, please.”

Your hand brushes his hair back, fingers massaging his head lightly. Jisung nearly moans at the feeling, slumping against your body while your hands travel to the nape of his neck. “Why?”

“I don’t want to do them.” He laughs quietly at his confession, tilting his head when your thumb brushes over his pulse point. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, smiling when his hair tickles your skin. “Will you do something else instead?” You ask, rubbing his back gently. “If you don’t mind.”

Jisung hums, kissing your arm softly. “I’ll take care of the laundry.”

“When’s the last time we kissed?”

Your eyes flicker to Felix, though there’s a wall of pillows hiding him from you. “I can’t remember.” You turn over, and he’s still facing the ceiling– you’re assuming. “Do you miss me?”

Felix doesn’t respond like you want him to. He keeps quiet and stares at the ceiling decorated with glow-in-the-dark stars you two had put up when you moved in.

“I’m sorry for what I said.” He whispers. The pillow closest to your leg gets tossed to the side. “I didn’t mean it. I was angry and– and you were yelling at me, but you were crying, so I was torn between being mad and comforting you.” The pillow near your waist moved next. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Finally, the last pillow moved. Felix was crying, not hiding the tears that flowed and dampened his pillow.

“You're holding the bat wrong.” You roll your eyes at Seungmin, groaning when he comes up behind you to adjust your stance. “The way you were standing, you’d trip before you could even leave the plate.”

Seungmin smiles when you lean the slightest into him, nudging you back into place after a second. “Weren’t you a shortstop and the cleanup?”

“Yeah,” you laughed. Pointing the bat at his chest. “That’s how we met.” He smiles, leaning over your shoulder to kiss you. “I’m glad we made the bet that day.”

He quirks a brow, “You’re glad we made a bet that the loser takes the winner on a date? And your team lost?” Your elbow jabs into his stomach, a small groan of pain coming from him.

“Even if my team lost, I won 'cause I got you.”

“Have you gotten any sleep lately?”

You hum, holding the phone between your shoulder and ear. “Can’t sleep without you.” He tuts, and even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was wagging his finger and shaking his head.

“Baby, you need to rest.”

“I am,” you tell him. It wasn’t a lie. “It just doesn’t come as easy as it does when you’re here.” Jeongin sighs, shuffling about on his end. “Have you been sleeping well?”

“Of course, I actually have a blanket at night.” A chuckle comes from you. Jeongin succeeds in his mission of lifting your mood. “I miss you though. I can’t wait to see you again.”

You hum, smiling to yourself at his open affection. “I’ll be waiting for you.” You can hear his grin through the phone, your smile growing when he laughs quietly.

a/n; making another member!reader vers so I can write another m!reader for this lil series (but I’ll also do a m!reader that’s non member too)

[idkfitememate]

In Eden’s Garden

૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა Pairings : GN! Adam/Eve Reader x Lilith + Obey Me Character

૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა W.K. : 6.4k

໒꒰ྀིᵔ ᵕ ᵔ ꒱ྀི১ Tags/CW&TW : fluff to angst, character death, Reader is basically a angsty teen

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : Got bored, got too many brainrots and obsessions rn and wrote this “super fast” just to prove a point *AHEM*

(Also you kinda have a “set” look in the beginning, but that’ll change! It’s for stories sake I’m sorry-)

((Also also, I’m so sorry guys… you start off as a Texan I’m so sorry-)) [Fun fact I have a slight southern accent and it’s wild when I hear it-]

Yes this is the Adam/Eve!Reader x Obey Me. It has been rotting my mind for months I’m not sorry-

The Garden of Eden.

Never was it, nor its human counterparts spoken of in a negative light in the Celestial Realm.

Talk of trees that grew above the clouds and lakes so crystalline that you could see every grain of sand under the perfectly glowing sunlight flew out of Angel’s mouths, some even admitting small amounts of jealousy at how finely those mortals were living.

It interested Lilith.

Youngest of seven siblings and one of the Seven Heavenly Virtues - that Virtue being Patience - she was of high status and importance among those lucky enough to live under their Father’s light and guidance.

She wanted to know more than what those baseless rumors and tales could offer her, so one night, beneath the many star like moons of her home, she flew down beneath the clouds but above the stony bridge that would have snatched her away, down into the depths of the Devil’s Realm.

Her wings, as pure as a dove, flapped endlessly to carry her over gorgeous mountain ranges and wide plains of golden grass, over the bluest of oceans, to find this fabled Garden.

And finally? She came upon it.

Landing gracefully on the emerald green grass, she took in the sight. She supposed this Garden truly was what one would get if you took a piece of The Celestial Realm and placed it in the Human Realm.

Colorful birds filled the sky with trees of every type surrounding her. Animals she had never seen before lunged around her. Feeling giddy, she began to run with the multiple groups, eventually taking off.

She flew over a lake, lowering herself right above it to gently grace her fingers over the top, ripples feathering out and creating small waves behind her. Fish kept from the water around her in grand arks, and with a giggle she pushed herself higher with a great flap.

Liliths giggles bubbled into loud laughter, as she soared over tree tops with beautifully colored birds, spinning and diving with no one to tell her no.

She felt free.

That was, until she didn’t manage to catch herself in a dive and crashed through the treetops.

She slammed into the grassy floor of the forest, dragging through the dirt as rocks flung out of her way, eventually being stopped by a tree. It took her a moment to really get her bearings, but when she did she was suddenly all too aware of her surroundings.

It wasn’t nearly as bright here as it was out there.

The shadows of the trees were long and bird song was suddenly silenced. The winds picked up and branches shook harshly, leaves being pulled from their trees.

She could barely make out the sun, clouds blocking its path, and the lack of other creatures was deafening.

Something was watching her. Not unlike the gazes of her elders when she made a small mistake on a document or once again had a day where she stole her closet brothers away to just have fun.

Its gaze was attached to her back, and she curled into herself. She was wrong, this gaze was worse.

It wasn’t scrutinizing her, it was observing her. Watching her movements. Taking her in.

She felt something she couldn’t identify. She hadn’t felt it before. Something crossed of anxiety and that feeling when someone was angry with her.

She was… scared?

That word flew through her mind. She heard it scarcely with fellow Angels. It wasn’t something usually felt in her home, as it’s wasn’t truly necessary. They were supposed to be happy in the Celestial Realm, and fear was not positive, it was a negative, something Demons would usually deal with.

So why was she…

A branch snapped in the background, echoing through the empty forest around her. She jolted upright, grabbing her knees and wrapping her arms around them.

Her breath grew heavy as she began to look around wildly, her wings puffing up as she curled into herself tighter. Her knees to her chest, she instead took her arms from her legs and wrapped them around her head.

“Whoever is there… please…”

Her voice was weak. She shook in the breeze, the delicate flowing fabrics of her gown dancing wildly in the wind with her hair. Her sniffed, trying hard to hold the tears that had suddenly formed in her eyes at bay.

“Please…”

Suddenly, she heard footsteps, fast and steady, rushing towards her. Her head shot up as they grew closer, fight or flight kicking in immediately. She jumped up, arms cradling her chest.

“W-wait!-“

Deciding against talking, she ran.

She hadn’t thought she’d have to fight, so she saw no need in bringing her holy weapon. Her bare feet pounded against the earth. Wildly thrashing through branches, leaves and sticks got stuck in her hair, scratching her face, ichor slipping from the wounds. She pushed through the forest, looking for a space to take off. She heard the footsteps growing closer and faster, nearing her with animosity.

Finally she burst from the forest line and down a hill, tumbling down and landing on her wing awkwardly, causing a dull pain to scream through the joint. White feathers flew as she fell, small screams falling from her throat. She finally rolled to a stop, tears and ichor mixing on the ground. Her shaken sobs making her body shiver on the ground.

She turned and laid eyes on mask, painted with gold and black accents.

Long flowing golden hair trailed behind them as they walked towards the fallen Angel. A tight black top clung to their chest, sleeveless and cut off right below the pecks. A pure white sash wrapped around their shoulder and down onto their waist, a bow on their thigh tying it together. Large, black flowing pants with golden accents ended at their ankles where their feet were wrapped in bandages. Armor clung to their arms - black with golden trimmings - one arm having slimmer armor that ended at the wrist, revealing an archer’s glove, the other arm ending in a gauntlet with sharpened claws for fingers. A small amount of the same armor rested on their waist, held together with a golden chain. A white scarf that flowed behind them covered the bottom part of the white mask with golden inlays that hid their face from Lilith.

What brought it all together were the feathers that attached to one side of their mask. A large golden one, two pure white ones on either side of it, and a small row of black feathers behind them.

A bow rested on their back, large and black in color with golden accents, made of the same metals that made the armors that covered their skin. A long sword rested on their back as well, under the bow. A circular shield rested atop the bow, though from the angle she lay at, Lilith could not see the design on its front. The sheath was beautifully decorated with golds. A quiver rested on their hip, filled to the brim with arrows begging to be used, surrounded in smaller bags and satchels. And finally, in their hand, was a large and imposing spear. Long and thin, yet it looked to be made of a strong metal, one light enough to glide through air if thrown.

They slowly and antagonizingly made their way towards the fallen Angelic girl, who in a last ditch effort shot a weak burst of light from her palm. It was hot, but if not hot enough to injure then it would be bright, to blind. Though unfortunately, the person just smacked it away with their spear.

They made it in front of the still downed Lilith, who was preparing to prey to The Father for safety, before they crouched down and kneeled before her. They both stared - Lilith assumed they were anyway - at each other for a moment. Then, the clawed hand came to their mask, and slowly pulled it above their head.

Lilith’s eyes widened.

“A genuine Angel..? Here..? Well, I do apologize for our horrid meeting. Hadit been in my hands I’d’ve had you land safely into m’ arms, pretty lady. Now, what can this a-humble human do for a graceful lil’ thing such as yourself? Father got any new messages f’ me?”

Soft (e/c) eyes stared back into Lilith’s with a soft smile as well. A hand was offered to her as well, which she took. The spear in hand was safely placed on their back as they pulled her up gently, their un-clawed hand gently wrapped around her waist.

“Oh! Where are my manners! S’cuse me, but I’m The First. Eh, heard from the last Angel that visited that ya’ll might call me Adam? Or Eve? Couldn’t really tell. You can pick though, pretty lady. Speakn’ of, what’s your name dove?”

They gave her a toothy grin as she stared wide-eyed at them. They were… Adam… and Eve? Looking at their body they looked neither feminine nor masculine, a perfect mix of the two. As did their face.

“L-Lilith…” “Well nice to meet you, Lilith! As I said, Adam or Eve I don’t mind neither, course you could come up with somethin’ of yer own!”

Lilith continued to stare at the human-you as you walked her through the forest she just ran through. Taking her through a small yet visible path into a small clearing, sat in the center was a small little hut of wood with a high standing brick chimney.

“Oh! Darn, yer wing! Ah, my apologies Lilith, I assume this happened when ya took that real big tumble down the way? Now, I ain’t ever heal no Angel wing before, but I’d be a fool not to try for you, dove.” Their hand brushed over her wing gently, smoothing down some feathers. Lilith looked at them, taking in their features once more. They looked… young.

“How long have you been here..? Alone..?” The looked at her with widened eyes, before turning back to the hut.

Silent with a thoughtful look on their face, they opened the polished, wooden door and showed Lilith inside first, closing the door behind them. With a flick of their wrist, a flame enveloped their hand, and with another, shot out of their grip, startling the Angel.

It flew to different corners of the house, bouncing off walls and other surfaces until they found their placement in various lamps around the room, bathing the small house in a warm glow.

“How did you… you spoke no words-“ “Yeah, been doin’ things of that sort for as long as I can remember. Didn’t mean to startle you. But to answer your other question… I don’t know, truly. Been left with my thoughts for ‘bout as long as I’ve been alive, not countin’ the few Angels that may come down with a message from The Father anyway.”

They sat her down in a small chair, and she really took in her surroundings.

It was all one room really, only a wall separating what she assumed was the kitchen from the living/bedroom. The kitchen had the bare minimum, a wood fire stove and a couple small chests and cabinets. In the living room was the base of the chimney, a fire having been lit inside it with a large pot rested against it. In front of it were two wooden chairs, each draped with thick woolen blankets. Behind the chairs was a bed that took up a large corner of the home, pressed to the wall next to the door. A small window rested above it, as well as a shelf with small pots containing various flowers of different sizes, shapes and colors. Beside the small kitchen area was a small circular table - where she was sat now - with four chairs surrounding it. It sat in the corner opposite to the bed, with a window beside it as well and a potted flower in the center.

It was small, but cozy. As she looked around, Lilith barely noticed as the human, who had placed their weapons at the foot of the bed and mask on a hook next to it, took a look at her wing, gently flexing it and feeling up the joint to get a better feeling for the injury.

“S’nothin’ too bad. Pulled a muscle, might be a sprain. I’d say stay off it for a bit, maybe ‘bout a… week?” Lilith looked at them incredulously.

“A WEEK!?! I NEED TO BE BACK BY TONIGHT!!! I can’t stay here… I need… I can’t-“ She kept up from the chair, causing it to clatter against the floor. She flinched as it fell but the human simply stared.

“Is there anything you can do?? I need to leave, this was a on a whim trip and no one knows I’m here-“ “No one knows?” They interrupted.

“Well now dove, ain’t that a bit irresponsible of you?” Lilith sighed with a grimace.

“Well… yeah. BUT I WAS CURIOUS!! I couldn’t help myself! I just had to see the Garden of Eden. It sounded to pretty a magical and and… oh isn’t there anything? I’m not the greatest at healing magic, my brothers usually take care of all my cuts and scrapes…” The human smiled at her while gently rubbing her back.

“Now don’tcha worry your pretty lil’ head dove, ya interrupted me ‘fore I could say that’d be if I couldn’t heal it, which I can. So you just sit back down an’ led me work my magic, alright?” They picked back up the chair she had knocked over and sat her back down.

“Plus, a week ain’t that bad compared to what it woulda been f’ me. I’da been outta commission for at least a month. But with y’all’s fancy Angel bodies, healing is all quick like. Notice here? Ya face scratches are all gone dove.” Lilith gently placed a hand on her face, noticing the dull throb of any of the scratches she sustained in the chase were gone.

“I-I guess I never noticed, considering we don’t regularly get hurt in The Celestial Realm…” She mused. The human chuckled.

“Heh, wouldn’t expect y’all too. Anyway, gonna have this wing fixed up faster than double-struck lightning.” The Angel looked that them.

“What?” “Eh?”

They both stared before the human chuckled.

“Don’t mind me, let’s just get this here wing fixed up. I’m gonna count to three, and then you’re gonna hold ya breath, alright?” She was confused, but Lilith nodded.

“Alrighty, one…” She closed her eyes and took a breath.

“Two…” She felt the humans hands wrap around the injury.

“THREE!” A loud *SNAP* sounded through the room, and her eyes shot open. Before she could scream or anything of the sort, a cooling sensation flowed through her wing, the dull pain she felt washing away. She sighed in relief and leaned into the touch of the human. She couldn’t see it, but a sweet smile crossed their face.

“Thank you… so much…” “It’s no problem, dove. My fault you even got hurt in the first place. Again, my apologies f’ that.” Lilith huffed.

“No, it’s my fault for even getting in this situation in the first place, I shouldn’t have left without permission. Maybe I would’ve known where your dwelling was and could have made a safer landing.” That human chuckled and gently pulled her up.

“Now now, don’t go gettin’ your knickers in a twist over this, alright? Here, we both take blame.” “No no, I did more harm in the long run-“

They placed their hands on her shoulders, mindful of the claws on their single gauntlet.

“Nope. Not hearin’ you out ‘bout this. Anyway, you best be getting outta here now dove. Wouldn’t want’cha getting in no kinda trouble just cause you came down and visited this mortal. Come one now, let me show you out.”

A arm wrapped around her waist, gently leading her back to the front and out the house into the small clearing.

“Next time ya come ‘round here, make sure ya got some kinda permission, alright?” They asked. Lilith blushed as she looked back, an embarrassed chuckle following.

“I will. Promise.” The human smiled back.

“Alright then. Now then, it’s time f’ you to swap spit an’ hit the road.” The Angel looked back, aghast.

“It’s time for us to WHAT?!” She screamed, leading the human the lift their hands in surrender and laugh.

“Sorry, I just meant it’s time for you to leave, dove.” Lilith sighed and chuckled with them.

“Alright, thank you again! I will visit, I hope you know that!” They nodded and she smiled.

With a final smile, she leapt into the air, wingbeats echoing through the landscape. As she cut through the sky, she took a glance back and noticed them enthusiastically waving her off with a big silly grin, causing her to grin.

Yeah, she’d be back.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮🍯🍧୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Belphegor had begun to notice Lilith’s absences were increasing.

It wasn’t odd for the youngest of the seven to go missing on one of her little adventures, but for them to be happening so often?

And on top of that, she seemed happier. Now, don’t get him wrong, Belphegor loved seeing his sister so happy, but the thing was he couldn’t tell what exactly was making her so happy.

Also she called him “as pretty a peach”??? Whatever that means??? What even was a peach???

Anyway, he was determined to find out what it was, especially since last night she came home THREE HOURS after dinner all giddy and stuff.

Today was the triplets day off and with Beel out for the moment and her in her room, Belphegor figured this would be the best time for questioning.

Knocking on her door and waiting for the muted ‘come in’, he entered the room and closed the door behind him.

“Yeah, Belphie?” Lilith was sat on her bed on her stomach, legs swinging above her. Her head was resting in her palm as her other hand held a letter.

“I just had a question, nothing serious. May I sit?” Belphegor asked from the door. He pointed beside the laid down girl who giggled.

“Yep! Go right ahead.” She said, rolling over and sitting up. Belphegor sat by her feet and looked at his sister.

“My question is… what’s been making you so happy lately?” A sour look crossed the man’s face as Lilith only stared… Before bursting out into laughter over his expression.

“PFFFT- WHAT KINDA QUESTION IS THAT BELPHIE???” She laughed. Belphegor coughed into his fist to hide his now embarrassed expression, causing Lilith’s laughter to only grow in volume.

“W-Well I only ask because you’ve been so... so… Giddy! Lately! Like your head has been in the clouds!!” Belphegor defended, Lilith’s laughter quieted.

“Well for one, aren’t our head technically always in the clouds?” Belphegor stared at her as she grinned. With a chuckled, she continued.

“Besides, it’s nothing super important. I just maybe… kinda… might think I’m in love?” Belphegor did a double take.

“You might be… what?” “Okay head me out Belphie-“ Belphegor shook his head in shock. His little sister? In love? With who? What were they like? Likes and dislikes? How old? So on and so forth. Questions ran through his mind a mile a minute.

“Before you ask ANY questions, they’re younger than me, super nice and take my wants into consideration, cares for nature, and is just the sweetest person I’ve met. They even cook and clean and can sew and even crochet! Isn’t that just amazing…” Lilith immediately looked away from her brother, clutching the letter she was holding to her chest.

Belphegor figured the letter might be from the person in question, so in a moment of selfishness - to which he knew he would pray about later - , grabbed the letter from her, causing a gasp from his sister.

She immediately complained, pushing at her brother to get it back, but he stood up and held her back with one arm, reading the letter aloud.

“- Don’t worry about the bruise, it isn’t nothing to worry about. Anyway, those Celestial flowers you brought me are doing wonderfully. You were right, all they needed was a bit more sunlight than the regular flower, like a sunflower. Might show you the sunflower field I found the other day if you want. Don’t feel rushed to come back down, however. And please say thank you to Yael for making the trip to and fro. Glory to The Father, may he smile upon us. Goodbye, my dove.

- A.E.”

Belphegor looked at his sister who was flushed in embarrassment. She had given up fighting in the middle of his reading the end of the letter, and was sitting on her heels on her bed.

“A.E.? What kind of name is that? And why are they acting as though they don’t live here? “Those Celestial flowers you brought me are doing wonderfully.”? That’s not something someone who is here would say, Lilith. Just who is this?” Belphegor looked to his sister whose blush had disappeared by then.

She sighed as she looked to her brother, gaze clouded for a moment before huffing again.

“If I tell you… promise to not tell anyone?” Lilith’s voice was uncannily soft compared to her usual loud and outgoing self. A little uneasy with her sudden change in tone, Belphegor nodded.

Lilith hesitated and opened her mouth, then shut it, then thrust her hand into her brother’s chest, pinkie out turned.

“Pinkie promise?” Lilith’s eyes held… worry? Fear? Belphegor couldn’t read it well but whatever it was it immediately sent signals off in his head.

“Yeah… yeah of course.” Belphegor held out his hand with pinky extended, wrapping it around hers.

“I may have… gone to the Garden?.. And talked to a…” she hesitated, “human..?” Belphegor looked to his sister with now widened eyes.

“You went to… the Garden? Like, THE Garden? Of… Eden? Where the… humans live?” Belphegor spoke their name like a taboo, which made Lilith cringe.

He knew why, humans were still relatively new and were more or less a hot topic. Either you never spoke a word or they were all you could talk about. They were something of a passion project, as was rumored. Something that was aloud to have varied results, and more importantly:

To make mistakes.

The was the supposed “beauty” of what would soon be humanity.

Or so Belphegor was told, anyway.

He never got it, as the Virtue of Diligence, it was literally ingrained in his being to always be alert to any mistakes and correct them as quickly as possible, to ensure everything ran smoothly. Sure, sometimes a mistake could prove to be beneficial, but more often than not, that was untrue.

So how an entire race could be conceived from the idea of mistakes propelling them was… Belphegor just couldn’t understand.

So to hear his sister, LITTLE sister mind you, had gone down and… interacted with those things?? He was a little upset but… her eyes.

Lilith’s eyes shined with a wonder he hadn’t seen in them in a while, life finally growing bland after their millions of years of existence. She had something new, and it clearly brought her happiness. Who was he to take that from her.

In the grand scheme of things it didn’t affect her work to much, and Father had never explicitly told them to stay away…

“Does this human seem to have any intentions of hurting you?-“ “NO!”

Lilith raised her eyes and flinched back in indignation at the words, looking offended, a hand landed on her chest.

“They would never! I’m impressed you’d even say such a thing!” Chuckles rung from her as she began to kick her legs slightly, covering her mouth with a hand. Belphegor smiled.

This may not have been his favorite predicament, but she was happy. Perhaps he could give these humans a chance.

…

This would be his first time making a “mistake”.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍡🍬🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Years went by and Lilith’s visits to you didn’t stop.

Nearly every weekend was spent with you, sharing stories and otherwise. You’d taught her a few tricks of your trade as well, such as sewing and wood carving.

All was well.

Of course, until it wasn’t.

Yael, the Angel you and Lilith had trusted to take your messages to and from each other, had “crumbled under the pressure” and told a higher up. Who told someone higher than them, who told someone higher than them and well…

You hadn’t seen or heard from Lilith is weeks.

You were getting worried, but you had no way of getting to the Celestial Realm to check on her. So you waited.

And waited…

And… waited…

Lilith, meanwhile, was trying her hardest to convince the others to allow her back down into the Garden.

she had been forbidden, Angels weren’t meant to meddle in the affairs of mortals unless explicitly instructed too, after all. The Realm was still figuring out the logistics of Guardians, so no one Angel - without permission - was allowed down there.

Lilith begged and cried and sobbed, doing everything in her power to convince them that she deserved to go back down. That nothing had truly changed or happened. That’s she hadn’t fully interfered with the mortals.

All it took was an image of your now sullen face staring at the sky awaiting her return for the council to agree that she would never again be allowed to see you again.

She had exposed you too much.

You’d most likely not move on for years.

And she sobbed.

Her brothers had never seen her cry like this.

She fell to her knees and sobbed and pleaded with the council to reconsider, to give her another chance;

To at least allow her to say goodbye.

All requests were denied.

And her brothers were forced to watch her fall into something they had only heard from Demons, a “Depression”.

No longer did she go on spontaneous adventures, nor did she make jokes or try anything new.

It was simply work, eat, sleep, and staring longingly at the gifts you had given her.

Her colors dulled as time went on, and she slowly lost her glow.

Lucifer just couldn’t take it.

He tried to reason with the council. Asking them time and time again.

Always getting denied.

He only got more desperate as days past and she got duller and duller…

And finally he snapped.

Lucifer didn’t know how it happened. Once second he was asking peacefully.

The next he was chocking someone.

He let go after regaining control of his body, breathing heavily and palms shaking. After which a shouting match broke out.

And soon after that meeting, things only got worse.

Chocking turned to punching, punching turned to full on fighting, and fighting turned to the first angelic death by angelic hands in history.

Then the declaration of war.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍪🎂🧁୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

The days seemed to pass like a blur to you.

From days filled with planing of what new thing you could introduce to Lilith and where you could take her, now filled with the monotony of what like was before.

Farming, hunting, animal watching.

Barely did you touch your loom or carving tools, only when you needed a new utensil or blanket.

You hated it.

You missed her smile, and her laugh.

You sighed as you polished off another deer skull, taking a hammer and smashing it across a rock. Picking up the pieces, you take them to a small plot of land and begin to bury them beneath the tilled dirt.

though your eyes immediately met those of a dove, and you smiled.

“I’ll wait as long as you need, dove.”

It fluttered softly onto your upturned hand, cooing softly at you. Your eyes softened and you ran your free hand through the feathers on its head.

“As long as you need.”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍮🎂🍩୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

Years passed without much thought.

You remained oblivious to the war raging on above you.

Angels blood was technically on your hands and you couldn’t be the wiser.

Masses fell into their graves, simply because you needed to morn.

And now here you were, staring into the sky in shock as you watched the body of the woman you loved streaked across it, obviously mortally wounded.

You cried, and with a yelp, leapt into action, rushing behind her as she fell.

Your weapons discarded, you ran through rivers, jumped over rocks and basically glided through fields, all to catch her.

You barely noticed when you left The Garden.

Rocks dug into the skin of your feet but that was the least of your worries as you screamed her name, begging the Father to wake you from this awful nightmare.

Your arms raised high to catch her, begging her to please land in your grasp, barely paying attention to the cliff before you-

You fell.

You had never fallen from such a hight before.

Your long hair billowed through the wind with your clothes as you watched through tears as she hit the earth.

Then you hit a cliff.

A *SNAP* rang through the air as you landed on your back, head over the edge, perfectly positioned to see her and her… brother?

Two other men came as your breathing shallowed, a conversation you were too far away to hear taking place before you, before the man with the leathery wings performed some kind of spell, and her body ignited in a flame.

Your vision grew blurry as blood seeped from your mouth, coughs mixed with crimson bubbles escaping your lips as she disappeared. Her brother - who you realized was Lucifer, though his color pallet was much different than what she described - kneeled before the men.

With what little strength you had left, you clasped your hands together.

‘My Father who art above, please heed this prayer. Let be me reborn and find my love once more. Let us continue to be the star crossed lovers we believed ourselves to be. Please Father… and if one must be punished let it be me, for I had forsaken her from your land when my mortal lips met hers. Allow me this repentance and… let me… see… her once… mo…r…’

Your thoughts were silenced as you slipped away.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍪🍯🍫୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

You hated that prick in the sky.

You had given Him your everything, pledged yourself to Him.

You thought He was merciful, well apparently not.

Hundreds of thousands of fucking years.

You’ve had to watch her descendants live their lives, always finding a way to bump into them.

If this was His idea of a cosmic joke, then you wanted to bash your fucking skull in.

I mean, you’ve tried but he made you immortal on top of everything.

You had been reborn, as you asked, then to find that she’d been reborn as a human too. Great! You even had all your memories so you assumed she had her and…

…

…And then you were getting invited to her wedding as her ‘best friend’.

Never did you ever think you could’ve experienced a pain like that, like your soul shattering and being crumbled into dust but there you were. Watching her get wed off.

And have children.

And die.

You grew numb after a while, because why wouldn’t you. Seeing them grow became a past time, seeing where they ended up and then how many people attended their funerals.

Morbid game but it helped pass the time.

You got to watch as humans evolved and took over the planet, eventually coming to a point where they might destroy it if they aren’t careful.

You’ve watched technology grow and tack over and magic users be forced into hiding.

You’ve watched kingdoms rise and fall, nations grow and shrink, the belief of Angels and Devils become lesser and lesser.

You remember when Solomon, the big bitch of magic users and demon pact collector extraordinaire, was born. That was fun.

You remember when The King of the Devildom went to sleep, that was also neat, though you’re pretty sure that happened just a while before you died… time was a blur.

And naturally, you remembered when the brothers officially became “The Demon Brothers.”

You never forgot.

When out with “friends” - they were more people you surrounded yourself with to numb the pain of life - you just said you had Hyperthymesia, which led to more questions and other shit you couldn’t be bothered with.

The Father only know how many times you’ve gone through Highschool and Collage for the hell of it, there was shit else to do and at this point you were a hidden billionaire with how long you lived, plus it was nice to stay up to date on current affairs.

You had cut and dyed your hair same near every color under the sun at the this point, now at (h/c) for the time being.

One of the shittiest parts, however, was your morals.

The Father must’ve thought he was the funniest fucker in reality because he basically singed the Seven Virtues onto your soul, the on top of that made you the living example of the Seven Sins.

You couldn’t do shit without feeling torn apart.

Couldn’t spend large amount of money on yourself without feeling the need to give it away, but when you did you just wanted more money.

Never got a good nights sleep anymore because part of your brain would want to stay up to make sure nothing bad happened.

Couldn’t gouge yourself on a mountain of food without wanting to hurl halfway through because it “was enough”.

So life was shit in every way.

And then, the fucking cherry on top?

When a friend - who you knew full well was a decadent of her - got a letters from the Devildom about some “exchange program”. They tossed it because they thought it was a scam, which was fair.

You only read it out of curiosity, and when you say your jaw dropped? I mean it fucking dropped.

You knew all about Diavolo’s little “re-connection” thing, had since he announced it really, but to see it actually coming to light was… an experience you weren’t expecting.

Honestly you didn’t want them to go.

This descendent, MC was their name - such a weird fucking name - was one of your favorites. They were a chaotic little shit and you lived for it. Unless you had to pull them from a problem they caused. Then you didn’t.

But soon you got involved with their shit and completely forgot.

And there you were when they got sucked to hell, hand in hand…

… Also handcuffed but we don’t talk about that-

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍯🍡🍫୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“AW FUCK-“

“SHITTY TITTES AUGH-“

Both you and MC gripped each other, them screaming and you gritting your teeth with arms around them to protect them.

It took a second for them to stop and you to finally look up.

Before you was a judges seat with eight seats, five of which were filled. Though, a man stood beside the tallest standing seat.

Wait…

Orange, blond, strawberry blond, ravenette, red head - literally, and deep blue to teal?

Oh fuck-

The man in the tallest seat began to speak.

“Welcome to the Devildom MC… and friend?”

Diavolo looked down at the two of you, MC looking confused and you well… you looked uncomfortable but not unknowing.

“We can deal with that in a moment but, pardon my abrupt introduction. Feeling a bit shocked, I’m sure? Well that’s understandable, you’ve only just arrived, after all.”

MC looked around at the men confused and obviously scared while you just sighed with a hand pressed to your forehead. MC tried to stand only to trip back when the cuffs holding you both together. You noticed some of the brothers staring at you two, but you looked away. Diavolo seemed to ignore you both, however.

“As a human, it will probably take a little while for you to adjust to things here in the Devildom.”

“What the fuck is a Devildom-“ MC was cut off by a glare from Lucifer.

“Haha! Calm yourself Lucifer they were just asking a question! Now, before we introduce ourselves, who are you?”

You glanced over at the male and glanced at everyone else. Tugging on your shirt and running your hand through your hair, you finally met Diavolo’s eyes again.

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🍩🍭🍦୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

“Now I call you dove, you ain’t got any kinda name f’ me?”

You both were sat on a cliff you had just recently found overlooking your home with a great view of the sky and sun, which was setting at the moment. She was sat beside you, head on your shoulder with you both in the grass. A small wind blew through, making your hair wave like a sea of gold. She ran a hand through your hair, you humming at the feeling.

Your easygoing grin made Lilith’s heart melt, but she focused up back on your question after a moment, humming.

“Well… I want it to mean something.” “Dove means somethin’!” Lilith giggled.

“Oh yeah, and what would that be?” “Well you’re an Angel… n’ doves are connected ta Angels n’ stuff…” you groaned after, shoving your face in your hands, causing the Angels laughter to grow.

“Don’t laugh at me! It was cute how you reacted when I first called ya it!” Lilith continued to laugh, you whining and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling close and placing her head on your chest. Then, you grabbed her face in a huff. You forced her to stare at you as she bit her tongue with blush on her cheeks.

Finally you both broke out into laughter, her falling onto you. You both fell back into the grass giggling. She laid on top of you and you both breathed and took the moment in.

“… I think I have an idea.”

You glanced at her. Wrapping your arms around her waist, you pulled her up and rested your head on top of her hers. She nuzzled into your neck.

“Idea for what, dove?” “A nickname.”

You smiled and looked down at her, causing her to look up.

“Well then get on with it, I’m excited as a cow to a good wooden post.” “A what… to a what?” “Heh, nothin’ dove.”

She smiled and snuggled into you.

“I think you deserve your own name. Not what they call you up there. Something like…”

૮꒰づ˶• ༝ •˶꒱づ ˚ʚ ꒰⁐⁐⁐⁐୨🎂🍩🍯୧⁐⁐⁐⁐꒱ ɞ˚

You stared Diavolo in the eyes, and smiled somberly.

“…(y/n).”

໒꒰ྀི˶˙Ⱉ˙˶꒱ྀིა Author’s note : WOOO FINALLY I FUCKING FINISHED IT WOOOOOOO-

This has been sitting in my drafts for fucking months :)

Yes this will be getting a part two this is for me I’m the target audience-

My fucking hands man… they hurt-

Please god tell me someone appreciates this-

… is this my longest fic?-

[writingforstraykids]

Amazing what lies you were capable of

Pairing: Chan x reader (referred to as she/her)

Word Count: 1485

Summary: Chan reflects on everything that happened with her and finally decides to move on.

Warnings/Tags: angst, mention of ghosting, empty promises, mention of smoking (one sentence), heartbreak

A/N: Purely self-indulgent, I already apologize for the angst.🖤

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Amazing what lies you were capable of, Chan thought as he sat in his dimly lit apartment, staring at his phone. The screen was blank, no sign of any new messages or missed calls. The silence was deafening, each minute stretching into eternity. He had been here before, in this very position, heart pounding with a mix of hope and dread, only to be met with the same empty void.

The first time she had ghosted him, he had been naive enough to make excuses on her behalf. She was busy with work, overwhelmed by her personal life, or perhaps dealing with something he couldn’t quite grasp. He had convinced himself that there were reasonable explanations for her silence. But as days turned into weeks and weeks into months, the pattern became unmistakable. She would reappear with apologies that seemed genuine, stories of chaos that he wanted so desperately to believe. And each time, he welcomed her back with open arms, the embers of their connection rekindling his hope.

Now, as he sat there in the dark, he couldn’t help but reflect on the many moments they had shared and the many more they had missed. She had been a whirlwind in his life, a bright and captivating force that had drawn him in from the moment they met. Her laughter, infectious and bright, had been a beacon in the often gray landscape of his days. Her touch, warm and reassuring, had been his anchor in the stormy seas of uncertainty.

But those moments of joy were always fleeting, interrupted by the harsh reality of her absence. She would vanish without a trace, leaving behind only the faint echoes of her promises. Promises that now seemed as insubstantial as the smoke from his cigarette, curling and dissolving into the night air.

Chan rose from the couch and walked to the window, looking out at the city that stretched out before him. The lights flickered like distant stars, each one a reminder of the lives bustling around him lives that seemed so much more certain and grounded than his own. He wondered how many others in this sprawling metropolis were staring at their own silent phones, waiting for a message that might never come.

He remembered the last time he had seen her, just over a month ago. They had met at their favorite café, a cozy little place tucked away from the main streets. She had been radiant, her eyes sparkling with a light that had always captivated him. They had talked for hours, losing themselves in conversation, sharing dreams and fears. She had told him about her new job, the excitement in her voice intoxicating. He had felt a surge of pride and happiness for her, believing that this time, things would be different.

But then, as always, she had started to pull away. Her messages became sporadic, her replies curt and distant. He could sense her slipping through his fingers, like sand in an hourglass, each grain a moment lost to the void. He had tried to reach out, to understand what was happening, but his efforts were met with silence.

Amazing what lies you were capable of, he repeated to himself, the words a bitter mantra. He had believed her when she said she loved him when she promised that they would make it through whatever challenges lay ahead. He had believed her when she said that her disappearances were never about him, that she was dealing with her own demons. But now, those words felt like daggers, cutting deep into the fabric of his stupidly blind trust.

He turned away from the window and walked back to the couch, sinking into its familiar embrace. His mind drifted to the countless nights he had spent waiting for her, each one a torment of doubt and longing. He thought about the times he had seen her online, her status mocking him with its glaring green dot and the agony of watching as his messages went unread.

Chan picked up his phone again, scrolling through their old conversations. Each message was a relic of a time when hope had still burned bright within him. He lingered on the ones that had meant the most to him, the ones where she had poured her heart out to him, where she had shared her deepest fears and wildest dreams. He had held onto those words like a lifeline, believing that they were a testament to the depth of their connection.

But now, he saw them for what they were: illusions. Beautiful, comforting illusions that had kept him trapped in a cycle of hope and despair. He wondered how much of what she had said had been true and how much had been crafted to keep him hanging on. He wondered if she had ever truly loved him or if he had simply been a convenient escape from her own reality.

The thought of moving on had crossed his mind many times, but each time he had pushed it away. The idea of a life without her, even with all the pain she brought, was too unbearable to contemplate. He had built his world around her, his identity intertwined with hers in ways he couldn’t easily unravel. She was the sun around which his life orbited, and without her, he was lost in the darkness.

But now, as he sat in the quiet of his apartment, he felt a shift within him. The pain was still there, a dull ache that throbbed in his chest, but it was accompanied by a new sense of clarity. He realized that he couldn’t keep living like this, trapped in a cycle of hope and heartache. He couldn’t keep waiting for someone who might never come back, for promises that might never be fulfilled.

He thought about the lies she had told, the ones that had kept him tethered to her even as she drifted away. He thought about the moments of joy they had shared, moments that had felt so real but now seemed like mere fantasies. And he realized that he needed to let go of those illusions, to accept that they were never meant to be.

Chan took a deep breath and set his phone down, the decision solidifying in his mind. He needed to move on, to find a way to rebuild his life without her. It wouldn’t be easy, and the pain wouldn’t disappear overnight, but he knew it was the only way forward. He couldn’t keep living in the shadows of her absence, waiting for a light that might never return.

He stood up and walked to the kitchen, the weight of his decision heavy but liberating. He poured himself a glass of water, the cool liquid soothing his sore throat. As he drank, he thought about the future, about the possibilities that lay ahead. He thought about the things he had put on hold for her, the dreams he had pushed back in the hope of a shared future that now seemed so unlikely.

He realized that it was time to start living for himself, to reclaim the parts of his life that he had sacrificed for a love that had never truly been his. It was time to let go of the past and embrace the unknown, to find joy in the small moments and the simple pleasures that life had to offer.

As he stood there in the quiet of his apartment, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. The road ahead would be long and difficult, but for the first time in a long while, he felt ready to face it. He was ready to let go of the lies, to free himself from the chains of a love that had only ever brought him pain.

Amazing what lies you were capable of, he thought one last time, but now the words were not filled with bitterness. Instead, they were a reminder of the strength he had found within himself, the resilience that had kept him going even in the darkest of times. He knew that he would carry the scars of this love with him, but he also knew that they would make him stronger, a testament to the battles he had fought and the victories he had won.

Chan took one last look at his phone, the screen still blank, and then turned it off. He didn’t need it anymore, didn’t need the constant reminder of a love that had never truly been his. He was ready to move on, to find his own path, and to embrace the future with an open heart and a hopeful spirit. And as he took his first steps into the unknown, he knew that he would be okay, that he would find his way, and that he would never again let himself be defined by the lies of the past.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @silverstarburst @zehina @jinnie-ret @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143

[galaxyedging]

I can't sleep at 2am. New Pedro content has dropped, you know what that means...unhinged ficlet about a new character. Not proofread.

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol and one line insinuating smut.

GN!reader x the hot beach guy.

Mr Sandman

They say sand gets everywhere. Most people know this is a well-founded saying. They've shaken sand out of their possessions long after leaving the beach. They've found it in the most unlikely of places. Like the memory of the kiss of the sun on their skin or the sea lapping at their toes, it persists. 

That doesn't explain the sand in your shoes or your purse or in your desk draw. You couldn't remember the last time you went to the beach. Yet the grains kept dusting your belongings like you'd be there yesterday. 

Standing in the shower, the sun catching on the warm cascade before it washes the sandy remnants from your body, a memory tugs at you. The warmth, the comfort. Not from the shower. Or the beach scene that flickers in your mind. No, from him.

His hand is warm against yours as your fingers interlock around the cold glass bottle. The condensation drips onto your skin sending a shiver up your spine. It's nothing compared to the shiver that ignites it when his eyes meet yours. Deep brown with a golden cast a kin to the liquid he's handing you in the sun.

The sand persists and so do the memories of forgotten dreams. Both are found scattered in the morning. Tiny particles of him slip through your fingers when you try to hold on to him. His laughter. So full of life, uninhibited and free in a way that you haven't felt in years. It shines from his eyes like the sun on the ocean. Blindingly bright but a spectacle to behold. His warmth, not just from the brief touches of his skin on yours but from his presence. The way he welcomes you, the way his smile reaches out to you before his words do. 

Like the sand, he gets everywhere. The dreams follow you throughout the day. In the office, at the store as you pick out limes, on the drive home to your empty house. His voice, somehow deep but lighter than the sea breeze. His curls, soft between your fingers. His lips, so full against yours. His broad shoulders under your palms as you hold him tight. His body moving against yours as the sun sets and he makes you see more stars than just the one spread over the night sky. 

He calls to you now, calls you home, you feel. You've always had that feeling, homesick for a place you've never been. 

The tears burn beside your eyes. Your boss doesn't deserve you. There's no way you can cope in your line of work for another couple of decades before your retirement. You drive on autopilot. The beach is a little further than you can make it to and back in a day. Work can wait. Life can give you a break. The sun is setting when you break through the treeline onto the sand. The heat from the day hasn't left it yet, it's warm under your feet. That's something you hadn't thought of in the mystery of the sand, how had it always been warm? It wraps around your toes pulling you in with each step. The ocean gives the illusion of a dual sunset as the golden circle dips below the horizon. Relaxing on the soft sand, adrenaline seems to run off you into the porous surface below. Sleep begins to tug at you. That's when he appears. He presses a cold beer to your hand and a warm kiss to your temple. All's right with the world again. You found your way home.

Tagging some folk who will remember my unhinged days: @movievillainess721 @yourcoolauntie @harriedandharassed @prolix-yuy @missredherring

[fortuneforsaken-if]

since i'm once again sick (immune system of a baby, gg, dunno how i'm still alive) i have yet again awoken in the dead of night to write. here's the result, a little maluset snippet from when he's returned to you, whenever that may be.

On the lonesome bench, Maluset sits pensive, hand absentmindedly tracing old forgotten patterns in the light dusting of sand that has settled around him. The silhouette looks out of place against the backdrop of tall reflective buildings, but you decide to seek your place next to him, like countless times before.

His hand stills with a twitch and he pulls it into his lap, stray grains of sand softly flowing back in place, the patterns smoothing over.

A companionable silence stretches, and you tilt your head to look at him. Your eyes don't meet, but you can see the cluster of stars in those endless abyssal depths focused upwards, at the sun.

A sun that's a stranger, not the one that warmed you in the past.

The rumble starts from the sand, small ripples, like the earth itself sighs along with him. Still, he refuses to share the pain with you as his eyes blink the stupor away and fall to gaze at the ground.

"It is an empty tomb, the sun of this age. Zekhet's absence is... Heavy."

The sense of anguish comes through his words, and you chance a light tap of your index finger, just the knuckle, against his bare knee. Starlight flickers your way, a moment too short to be called a look, barely a glance, but there's appreciation beneath the sorrow.

"My sorrow cannot be as vast as yours, my little firefly, so you need not worry for me. The skies are lonely without him, but I am glad to be back by your side."

A hint of a smile quirks his lip upwards, but it settles. Silence follows as you sit, overlooking the city that holds the next key to your salvation. You will find a way to be free, and you know he would give his immortal soul to see you liberated, a thought that both eases and deepens the worry in your heart.

[kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay]

Best Friends on paper 📮

Summary: You've been matched up with a pen pal through a website, but what is merely an outlet for you and a confidant to tell your secrets to, is something completely different for him.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader (hinted at short!Reader too)

(No use of descriptive words for Reader's appearance. If you do stumble across one, please let me know and I'll immediately find a more inclusive alternative)

Warnings: 18+, non-con (touching, fingering), kidnapping of sorts, deranged Steve Rogers, manipulation, forced relationship, obsession and obsessive baheviour

Word count: 2k

Author's note: My second entry for @the-slumberparty's BINGO challenge! The squares I filled this time are "Pen pals", "Campfire", "Beach day" and "Brainwashing"

We love us some deranged, obsessed Steve Rogers and when I read the Pen Pal square, I knew we needed Mister Old-fashioned to make an appearance! Have fun reading this one ;D

...

“You said you loved me. You did. Stop struggling,” Steve grunts into you ear, his hand firmly planted over your mouth as he drags your flailing form further away from your group of friends.

Your kicking and muffled protests don't deter him, his hulking frame dwarfing yours easily, allowing him to effortlessly man-handle you as he pleases.

“Shhh, sweetheart. It's just me, just Steve. I'm your friend, remember?” the man husks, his hot breath dampening the back of your neck.

Your shake your head as best as you can, your mind spinning with the disorientating events crashing down on your.

“You're not my friend,” you try to say, but it only comes out as stifled mumbling from behind the gigantic paw covering up half your face to keep you quiet.

This isn't Steve, it can't be. Steve is nice, sweet. He'd been matched to you on a random pen pal website you signed up on out of boredom, the two of you hitting it off quickly and building a nice bond through the letters you sent each other regularly.

It's a little old-timey, but you enjoyed writing Steve letters. He even included a picture of himself in one of them and you did the same in return.

But this brute behind you, that is not the man from the picture.

Steve is short, a little skinny, and his hair has a pretty shade of blond and his smile is infectious.

The man stealing you away from the roaring fire burning by the shore, your friends still scattered around it in small groups, is not short or skinny.

He is dragging your jerking body through the sand, your feet uselessly slipping on the little grains of sand while you watch the camp fire grow smaller, the flickering flames no longer illuminating the ground around you, its warmth too far to comfort you.

Before you know what is happening, you're hauled up a slippery dune, now finally out of sight for all your friends or any by-passers as you're shoved down the other side.

There, in between dunes and bushes, sits a picnic blanket, small lanterns standing on two corners of it that light up the space.

“It's me, Steve. I did all this for you. You always said you wanted to have a picnic by the beach and spend the night outside looking at the stars. I remember it. You said it in one of your first letters you sent to me,” the man babbles, his tone so urgent he sounds almost possessed.

His words are what concerns you though, not how he says them. Because it's the truth. You'd told your pen pal Steve about wanting to spend a night at the beach to watch the stars, had laid out the whole romantic fantasy you dreamed of on lonely nights.

You reach the blanket and the hand on your face loosens. You're spun around to face your kidnapper and when you instinctively lift your head to stare up at the man's face, your heart sinks.

“Hi, sweetheart. I knew you'd recognise me,” Steve says with a wide smile, his white teeth glinting in the low light of the lanterns around you.

You're petrified. This man does look like Steve. But he's bigger, stronger. And this big, scary man knows all your deepest secrets and desires.

You've told Steve everything, because what could be the harm in it? He's always been states away, just a picture you keep in your desk drawer and ink-soaked pieces of paper. You never thought there would be any harm in confiding in him.

Well, you were wrong.

“You- You..” stammer and stare up at him. “You look different.”

Steve grins and shrugs as if he didn't look like he could easily break you in half as opposed to the skinny boy he's sent you a picture of.

“You too. Better, so much better in person. God, you're beautiful. Come here,” he says and without warning moves his hands from your arms where he was holding you still to your face and swoops in for a forceful kiss.

You let out a startled sound and jerk your hands up to push at him, but he doesn't budge, hips lips firmly pressed to yours, tongue poking at them as he tries to gain entrance.

Your muffled protests make him stop eventually, his face pulled into a frown as he pulls his head away to peer down at you.

“What is wrong? You said you loved me, sweetheart. I came all the way to surprise you, I prepared this night. It needs to be perfect, so play along! It's your fantasy after all,” he says, an edge to his voice as he scowls down at you.

“I- I... Steve, I don't love you, I don't even know you, I-”

“Stop! You know me, we've been writing letters for months. I know what you like and what you dream of for your future. I know your favourite food and colour. I said I love you and you said it back! You wrote it in our letters, you did!” Steve shouts, his face reddening with agitation.

You take a step back, now positively terrified of the deranged man before you. How could he be the same person who's been writing you fro almost a year now?

“Sit down, come on, sit. We're going to enjoy this night, I made it perfect for you,” he says, quieter now, but still obviously displeased by your resistance.

Not daring to disobey and upset this crazy man, you let Steve push you down on the blanket. He sits down next to you and then forces you to recline into a laying position. He lies down as well and then grabs your hand, his fingers forcing your clenched ones apart to hold them.

You lie there, heart beating wildly and wide eyes staring at the night sky, the stars twinkling back at you as they watch the situation unfold.

“Isn't this nice? Good thing the sky is clear. I've been waiting for the weather to clear up and tonight is just perfect for our first night together. The first of many,” Steve swoons beside you, his deep voice floating around you.

Your hand hangs limply in his as you try to get a grip on your situation.

All you wanted was to spend a day at the beach with your friends. You had brought food and snacks for the whole day and enough wood to keep your camp fire going through the night.

But that is forgotten now, your friends too far away to help or hear you and this psycho beside you instead of someone else, someone you knew.

“You're so beautiful, baby. I looked at your picture every day, wondering how soft your skin would be under my fingertips, what you would smell like, taste like...” Steve rumbles beside you, his head turned to look at you, warm breath ghosting over your cheek.

You swallow, stiff as a board and terrified of the meaning of his words.

“Will you let me find out, sweetheart? You will, won't you? I know you want to,” he says, his hand letting go of yours as he shifts up onto his elbow to stare down at you.

When you don't answer, too scared to say no and not wanting to say yes, he lets out a huff.

“Playing hard to get? Let me convince you...”

You don't have time to react, Steve's frame moving with a speed that should be impossible for someone so big, slotting between your legs with a shove of his hips.

He widens his thighs as he kneels between yours, pushing them further apart when you jerk away and try to close them.

“No! Steve, stop. No, no, no-” You start to chant, hands slapping at every bit of him that you can reach as some sort of survival instinct kicks in.

“Stop pretending you don't want this! I know everything about you, you told me. I know you want this, I know, I know, I know,” he barks, repeating himself over and over as if he's trying to convince you.

Grabbing your flailing hands in one of his, he gets to work on ripping off your swim clothes, the thin fabric stretching and ripping underneath his violent hand until it's gone and your body is bared to his eyes.

“Pleeease, no,” you sob out, legs kicking on either side of his, hands fighting in his grip to cover yourself, but he doesn't budge.

“Shhhh, you'll like it, sweetheart. I'm good at this, I promise,” he shushes you, his words of affirmation doing nothing to quell the horror and shame of being naked and at the mercy of this lunatic.

You squeak when he reaches down and easily finds your clit, spit-wet finger getting to work and drawing tight circles around the little nub while you squirm and whine beneath him.

But there's no getting away and you have no choice but to endure his patient rubbing and circling, forced to witness your body's surrender that comes in the form of thick slick collecting at your entrance.

Shame boils hot in your gut and when Steve lets go of your hands in favour of kneading your breasts, you hide behind your sweaty palms. You can't look at him, you won't.

“There we go, your body knows what you need, baby. Look at that pretty little pussy getting nice and wet for me,” Steve mumbles appraisingly, finger abandoning your clit in favour of exploring further down.

He pushes one thick finger inside your pussy, the digit easily slipping in. It's quickly followed by another and he twists his hand to rest the heel of it on your clit.

“So tight, hmm. Made for me,” Steve mumbles to himself, eyes fixated on where he's sinking his digits into you.

He starts fingering you, fingers pushing in and out of you, his hand grinding into your clit harder and harder the faster he goes.

You can't hide the noises he pulls from you, wet squelching and helpless moans alike ringing out around you.

The familiar hot tension in your gut rises and your hands slap down on the blanket beside you, fingers fisting the fabric when Steve angles his fingers just so, rubbing that spot inside you that sends tingles of pleasure shooting down your legs and up your back.

“Come on, come for me. I know you need it, your little pussy is clenching down on my big fingers. Feels good, doesn't it?” he eggs you on, hand speeding up and finally tipping you over that edge.

“There we go, yes! Good girl,” Steve exclaims triumphantly as he works you through your orgasm, watching your trembling limbs with a deranged kind of satisfaction.

He pulls his fingers out of you with a wet sound and lifts them to his mouth. You watch through half-lidded eyes how he opens his mouth and sucks your slick from his fingers with a pleasured moan, his own eyes falling shut.

“Knew you'd taste good, baby. So good. I need more, baby. I'm sorry, I can't help it, I just need more,” he rambles, hastily shifting between your limp legs until his face is level with your sensitive pussy, slick still leaking from the twitching opening.

“Just a taste...” he grunts before sticking out his tongue and dragging it across the length of your cunt with an obscene moan.

You jerk away when he touches your clit, but his hands swiftly wrap around your thighs, keeping your core anchored to his face.

Whines and breathless gasps escape you as you writhe in his hold, your head growing foggy with the pleasure forced on you.

When your second orgasm rushes through you in a shuddering wave and Steve keeps going on, you limply resign yourself to a long night of forced pleasure. With him, there's no getting away.

Never.

After all, he knows everything about you.

...

There we go, he's got her in his clutches now-

Here's my updated Bingo card!

[minnaci]

🔮 SELF - PLEASURE

contents: implied miguel o'hara x gn!reader (this is a solo!miguel endeavor), male masturbation, implied pleasure dom!miguel, reader is a bit spoiled by miguel, pillow humping, miguel fantasizes about being called daddy one (1) time, miguel fantasizes about performing penetrative sex with reader (reader receiving), overstimulation, multiple orgasms

a/n: happy october!!! welcome to the first fic of my silly little kinktober! rbs & comments appreciated <3

the slide of miguel's fist over his leaking tip feels good, but it's nowhere near as good as the hot, tight clench of your body around him. 

"fuck," he groans, drawing out the syllable. his hips jolt up, chasing more sensation, and he indulges the desire, tightening his fist and thrusting up lazily. if only you were there with him, he could— he could—

stars burst behind his eyelids as his thumb rubs up perfectly against his frenulum, and his legs instinctively spread, thick thighs flexing at the awful, wonderful bliss that sets his nerves alight. pleasure flings him into a different state of mind— one where everything is hotter, tighter, wetter. one where everything reminds him of you.

“please, i need you,” he begs the empty air, voice catching on a gasp. “lemme— lemme— fuck, baby, i need you—”

and oh, something about his own desperation makes the blood rush straight between his legs. the first threads of humiliation settle low in his gut, making his cock throb. if you were here… if you were here…

oh, miguel, he hears your voice in his mind, clear as day. look at you. rutting away at your hand like a big, dumb dog. does it feel good?

“no,” he moans, “‘s not enough, baby.”

poor thing. you miss me so much that you can’t even get off without me?

the you in his imagination is such a self-satisfied little thing, all sugary-sweet coos and smug smirks. really, it’s his own fault— he’s the one who spoiled you. he’s the one who made you feel safe enough, comfortable enough to get a little mouthy with him.

the thought only makes him harder. he loves it— the reminder that you feel safe with him, that you trust him. he’s the one who spoiled you. you deserve it all— his cock, his cum, his attention, his love. he’d take your ribbing, if only because he knew he would be able to fuck the thoughts right out of your pretty little head by the end of the night. 

and if that isn’t a thought. his fantasies disjoint, reform. he scrambles for a pillow— your pillow, the one that smells like you— and he pushes it down between his thighs for a bit of extra friction. if he rolls over, if he thrusts down into the pillow, he can pretend he’s fucking you. 

pre-cum spurts from his tip as he rubs against the soft pillowcase, lost in his imagination. the sounds of your pleasure echo in his mind— a siren, luring him deeper and deeper into heady, rapturous bliss. 

miguel! miguel, it’s so good, so good, i need more, please, please, more— ruin me for anyone else— oh, fuck, fuck—! yes!

he’s so full of pleasure that it aches, a steady, indulgent throb between his legs that spreads like honey through his limbs, sticky sweet. his concentration slips for a split second, and his cock slides just the right way against your pillow.

his mind whites out. his jaw hangs slack, his mouth agape, and his eyes widen. that pressure. that friction. why hadn’t he done this before? immediately, his hips jerk forwards, a reflexive reaction in response to blinding ecstasy, and he finds that perfect angle again— the one that has his self-control slipping like grains of sand through his fingers. 

there’s nothing he can do but let his body take over. he’s helpless to the pleasure, surrendering to his need as his hips rut uncontrollably against soft fabric. desire claws its way up his throat, and his heartbeat roars in his ears. fuck. it’s so dirty. he’s filthy, humping away at your pillow. but he won’t stop. he can’t. not when it feels so good. 

miguel, miguel, i can’t, i’m— cumming, cumming, daddy—!

fuck! he cums with a loud, animalistic groan, eyes rolled back into his skull as he mindlessly grinds against the pillow, determined to milk himself for everything he’s worth. rope after rope of thick, creamy cum spurts over your pillowcase, your sheets, and he practically purrs, watching through bleary, blurry eyes as the evidence of his pleasure stains your shared space.

the sensations begin to edge on the wrong side of too much, but some wretched, hopelessly aroused part of miguel can’t bring himself to stop, not even when the pleasure twists fully into pain.

“oh, god.” his chest heaves, his breaths coming in short, overwhelmed bursts. tears prick at the corner of his eyes, and he pushes through the delicious pleasure-pain with an almost-feral growl. his cock throbs an angry shade of red, but he can’t stop, rutting against the soft, ruined pillow. if he closes his eyes, he can imagine that you’re writhing beneath him, your teasing, smug facade shattered by the ecstasy he’s brought you.

he’s helpless to it. there’s no end for him. not until he’s broken you in the same way that you’ve broken him.

“take it,” he grunts, hips slamming against the pillow. “take it, take it, take it—”

his second orgasm crashes into him with all the force of waves against the shore, and he loses himself to the throbbing, aching pleasure. a growl cracks out of his chest, deep and feral, as he works himself through it, clumsy fingers petting sloppily over his cock and spreading his cum over the sensitive flesh.

it’s nearly too much. he nearly passes out. maybe he does pass out— he’s not quite sure. all he knows is the hot, thick drip of cum out of his cock, the endless waves of bliss that teeter on the right side of too much.

time slips through his consciousness strangely, then, warped by the hazy afterglow. the heady scent of sex and sweat fills his head. it takes longer than he expects for the high to wear off, and longer still for him to feel motivated to move. his skin is sticky, covered in the evidence of his transgressions.

if you were here, he knows you’d lick it up, maybe even share a taste. as it is, he cleans himself up slowly, luxuriating in the simple pleasure of touching, feeling, tasting himself. satisfaction curls through his bones, sits heavy on his chest, but still, he can’t stop thinking about you. he knows how you touch yourself to the thought of him. his cock gives a weak, but valiant, kick at the memory of watching you play with yourself, crying his name, cumming over and over again on your own fingers. he knows how much you want him, how much you need him. 

it’s with the thought of you in his mind that he sprawls back out over your sheets. he lounges with the casual grace of a god, thighs spread in the way he knows you love. anticipation curls in his gut, and despite the overstimulation, he palms at his soft, sensitive cock once more, grinning madly at the way the sensations lick like fire up his spine, intense enough to drive him insane. 

you would be home soon, and he would be ready for you. even if he was cumming dry by the time you arrived, he’d be ready for you.

[swordheld]

i believe we all are unspectacular, though

this feeling - it's yours, through and through. your experience is yours and you have earned every emotion you hold on to. in writing this, i don't mean to try to explain away how you're feeling; i only want to attempt to show you the inverse, the hidden light that shadows beyond every darkness.

sometimes there are moments where it all becomes too much and we fall into it, that long dark, and it takes us from ourselves, from some part of us that lives close to whatever we hold to the light of things. the hard part of this was never finding that awe, that spectacular beauty, but keeping it close enough to guide us out of the dark. it slips so easy through our fingers.

when that becomes so big it swallows all else: what if you think of the softest thing? of similarity, and kindness, and how it seems to be rooted down to the marrow of us.

we have existed for so long, so little. we are like giants, on our pebble of a celestial grain of sand. our lives are short and memories far shorter. and yet look at all that we do with it: look at how far it goes - each shining piece.

how could it be just unspectacular? couldn't it always, always have the possibility for more? i implore you to read through ada limón's full piece that this is pulled from, titled dead stars:

Out here, there’s a bowing even the trees are doing.                  Winter’s icy hand at the back of all of us. Black bark, slick yellow leaves, a kind of stillness that feels so mute it’s almost in another year. I am a hearth of spiders these days: a nest of trying. We point out the stars that make Orion as we take out        the trash, the rolling containers a song of suburban         thunder. It’s almost romantic as we adjust the waxy blue        recycling bin until you say, Man, we should really learn some new constellations. And it’s true. We keep forgetting about Antlia, Centaurus,        Draco, Lacerta, Hydra, Lyra, Lynx. But mostly we’re forgetting we’re dead stars too, my mouth        is full        of dust and I wish to reclaim the rising— to lean in the spotlight of streetlight with you, toward        what’s larger within us, toward how we were born. Look, we are not unspectacular things.        We’ve come this far, survived this much. What would happen if we decided to survive more? To love         harder? What if we stood up with our synapses and flesh and said,         No.      No, to the rising tides. Stood for the many mute mouths of the sea, of the land? What would happen if we used our bodies to bargain for the safety of others, for earth,                  if we declared a clean night, if we stopped being         terrified, if we launched our demands into the sky, made ourselves so         big people could point to us with the arrows they make in their         minds, rolling their trash bins out, after all of this is over?

poetry is lovely for so many reasons, but a personal favourite is that it can mean different things to different readers. this one, to me, means there is more here. as in: you are not the first, you are not alone in this ache, this heavy weight of life. the ground has shook with dance since before our feet, the wind has carried stories beyond our voice. it says there has been more here.

and that, in turn, says everything without so many words, doesn't it?

we try, and try, and give everything we have. we have been doing it since before language, since before breath. it is a history that says i need you to know that i tried. that i made it out, into the light of things.

nothing lasts forever. there is no such thing as permanence. everything washes away. there is rot and things collapse, forests fall, seasons change, and time moves on. but the same time  –  there is no such thing as separation. we are not exempt. we all share this changing. 

yes, loving the world is difficult. finding pieces of living, of being alive, that make it worth living is one of the most difficult of searches, but it's one of the most rewarding, as well as the only things truly worth anything. you need to find things to keep going for. you need to recognize your own spectacular things specific to you, because who else is going to do it? 

there is something strong in teaching yourself to hone that perspective. to hold everything else in rays of scattered sunlight through canopies - momentary joys so profound: a violin melody, art that breaks you alive, poetry you want to hold behind your teeth, the smell of cinnamon bread in the oven, because at the end of it: wouldn’t you want hope? wouldn’t you choose hope?

and poems like this, they ask: if you could, even just once more, dare to dream, dream anything, dream it all, each and every piece of light that could await you - wouldn't you?

and wouldn't you? wouldn't you.

[esteljune]

Memories of beach [P x reader] - short fic

This one was requested by the very kind @writing-fanics. I'm sorry dear if I kept you waiting, I really hope you like it! TW: angst, blood mentions

Amidst the air saturated with ergo, countless grains of white sand sliced through the young face, painfully beautiful, yet unperturbed. In the black sky, swollen with clouds like a trail of stars, shone the promise of a safe haven.

Pinocchio trudged forward almost blindly, instinctively, guided by something far more human than his cold and immutable body would suggest. An unnatural wind swept the immense, deserted beach, chasing itself in spires and vortices of an unnatural blue.

The light of Gemini at his belt, a faint beacon in that chaotic swirl of vital energy.

Then, as the boy continued to advance, in the silence, the howling of the wind transformed into clearly human voices, and the ergo that had hitherto streaked the darkness above his head animated the sand and took shape.

At first, just a confused, distant, unrecognizable shape. However, as Pinocchio approached, those sketched and primitive figures began to resemble something. No, someone. He recognized that scene not so much for its details, but for what it was evoking in his heart.

A distant, alien life, yet at the same time so familiar that it ignited a small flame in his chest, the still vivid and lively memory of someone else. The more he walked, the faster and more urgent his steps became, even stumbling, seeing that life unfold before his eyes. He felt an unknown, ancient loneliness as he scrutinized those unrecognizable faces, yet indelibly imprinted on corners of his heart that he did not know he had.

That reflection of himself had been happy, had felt the comfort of sincere friendship, of a spontaneous and rebellious smile. That face, that voice calling his name... No, not his name. He had not shown mercy when their blades had met, he did not understand that dark and mechanical language, perhaps he was not born to do so.

The pendant hidden in the bottom of his pocket suddenly felt like a heavy weight. What had he done? How much of what he had done had really depended on his will?

He walked on, his mechanical heart sinking a little in his cold chest with each step, like his feet in the sand. The beach had returned to an unnatural, frightening darkness, then a light appeared again in the wind.

He recognized your voice first. That laugh that had alleviated more suffering than that stranger whose face he wore had wanted to admit. The long sleepless nights when your eyes and your words had tormented him. You had promised him something unheard of, something that still in a corner of his heart was eager to come to light. You had sworn your love to him.

"I... I don't think I'm good at these things, but I know I want you by my side. Forever." That nervous voice that was his voice had whispered in the wind. A small ring between fingers of sand that were already fading.

Pinocchio's fingers were so tightly clenched to his pocket that they tore the fabric. Against the metallic palm, the shape of that small ring burned as if it were incandescent. He extracted it with the delicacy with which one handles a relic. Dirty, rusty and bloody, just as that memory should be.

Suddenly, that pain that had gradually grown inside him with each step seemed almost unbearable. He had not shown mercy to you either. He had watched the light fade from your eyes with a distant, immobile face, yet his arms had moved instinctively, had supported your light, sweet, curiously familiar weight. He had not understood that look of tenderness and regret, he had not even registered it.

He had let your fingers run over his cold face, an incomprehensible last sentence veiled your lips. You almost seemed to be crying.

[eustasscapitankid]

Eustass Kid x Nico Robin Challenge: Kikitober 2024 "Metal Trinkets" Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None Tags: Soft Kid, Love Summary: Sometimes you don't need words to say 'I Love You'. Word Count: 363

"And on my easel I drew, while I was thinking of you."

      If only it was as easy to express feelings as it was to be an engineer. Cool metal provided relief to his hands against his skin from the humid summer air. She relishes the papers grain with each turn of the page. The trill of cicadas filled the air, harmonizing with the soft rustling of paper and the calm lap of ocean waves against the beach’s sand.       His

            favorite music.

      Her

      Kid’s heartbeat acts like a metronome, to his calculated movements keeping beat to its’ beat. Hands keeping a rhythm as he toys with his current project. Steady hands bend thin sheets of metal into perfect curves. A focused grip carefully sets pins in place, anchoring the pieces together. Meticulous and delicate work made easy with his large hands by the aid of the magnetic forces that aid him.

      Robin’s hand runs down the soft paper as she turns another page. Her eyes follow it’s path, landing on one of the trinket’s that now adorn her desk. A growing collection—each more intricate than the last. She reaches out a hand, fingers gently caressing the artifact closest to her. It’s a small elephant made of metal, a forest perched on upon it’s back. You would think each figure lain before her random, if you had not read the words pressed upon inks in her favorite pages. A single working stood taller than the rest, positioned thoughtfully at the corner of her desk. She adored the way it’s thin metal leaves glittered when moonlight streamed through the windows, it’s thick trunk decorated with small windows carefully carved into it’s uneven surface. A reflection of her once-home.

      Her eyes rose to the man opposite her, watching his hands busy themselves. The soft sound of his metal hand brushing against the copper he minded himself with ceased. The sound of moving pages stilled. Even the cicadas’ endless song seemed to silence as their eyes met. A small smile graced her lips as he reached out to her desk, adding another piece to her collection.

      Sometimes, you don't need words to say 'I Love You'.