#the house that doesn’t remember you ⨾ █

[urdreamgirls-dreamgirl]

part one

“so how was your first day?” robin asks steve as he slides onto the barstool next to her and chrissy.

“it actually wasn’t that bad,” steve shrugs before taking a long pull from the freshly opened bottle the bartender slides his way.

“it wasn’t that bad?” chrissy asks, incredulous. “so he didn’t make you go to the erewhon all the way across town? the one he goes to because selena gomez was seen there once?”

“that’s why he made me go there?”

“yeah, he really likes that one movie she’s in.”

steve thinks for a moment. “the dead don’t die?”

“no, the one with the dancing,” chrissy snorts.

steve makes a face and then shrugs again. “i made him his breakfast, i drove him around, i organized his tshirt closet… pretty standard stuff for an assistant.”

“you organized his tshirt closet? what the fuck does that even mean?” robin asks, laughing.

“exactly what it sounds like,” steve grins at her. “anyway, really, it wasn’t that bad. sure, he’s insufferable but not anything i couldn’t handle. don’t worry about it.”

“well, thanks for doing this,” chrissy says. “vickie handled it for a while, but i guess once you’ve been fired twelve times in the course of six months, you have to draw a boundary with the thirteenth.”

“it’s really not a big deal, it’s not like i’m doing it for free,” steve responds. “the money is more than worth it.”

“still, i know how he can be. but he’s really not so bad. once he’s… comfortable.” chrissy frowns.

“whatever,” steve shrugs for a third time. “i’m just here for the cash.” he winks and gives her a reassuring smile.

~*~

the next morning, steve pulls up to eddie’s huge beverly hills mansion bright and early, just as he had yesterday. he punches in the gate code, waves to the security guy on duty, and makes his way inside to the kitchen.

eddie storms in while steve is halfway through cooking another omelette, this time with tomatoes and onions and freshly grated cheddar cheese.

“i don’t care, wheeler, i’m not making a fucking appearance and i’m definitely not doing it with him,” eddie snarls into the phone pressed to his face. he hasn’t seemed to notice that steve’s in his house again.

eddie waits for whoever it is on the phone to speak before he says, “well maybe i don’t want to fix it. maybe this is it,” and then hangs up the phone. he lets out a frustrated little scream before he turns to leave the kitchen, finally noticing steve by the stove. “you’re back,” he says, voice monotone.

“i’m back,” steve smiles, sliding the plate full of food across the large island toward him. eddie looks down at it like he’s surprised. “eat,” steve tells him.

“another sweater vest?” eddie sneers instead of picking up his fork.

“i like them,” steve shrugs, still smiling.

eddie rolls his eyes. “whatever,” he mutters and then picks up the plate and retreats from the kitchen.

~*~

eddie is deeply annoyed by how good steve’s omelettes are. he practically licks the plate clean when he’s finished, which only serves to make his bad mood worse.

“can i take your plate?” steve asks from the doorway of the living room.

“jesus christ, man, wear a fucking bell,” eddie grumbles before holding out the plate, forcing steve to walk across the room to the couch and take it from him.

“i’ll remember to announce myself from now on,” steve replies. “chrissy just called; you have another meeting with the pr team this afternoon. we’ll leave here in about an hour.”

eddie doesn’t respond and steve goes quietly back to the kitchen.

~*~

eddie tries to confuse steve with the directions to nancy’s office again, mostly just to annoy him since the car has a built in gps. steve ignores eddie, leaving him to play on his phone in the back seat. the windows are tinted dark, just how eddie likes it & it lulls him into a false sense of security to where he’s almost relaxed by the time they get to nancy’s office.

the meeting is a fucking drag. it’s just a rehashing of the morning’s phone call and eddie had already made himself perfectly clear. he’s not willing to fix anything. nancy and chrissy try to double-team him, begging him to think about the tour & the album roll-out & the rest of the band. the entertainment blogs are running wild with the rumors circulating about the other night and now they’re digging up shit that he wishes would stay buried.

“absolutely fucking not,” eddie spits out. “i refuse to be fucking cordial with that moron.”

“fine,” nancy says finally. “i guess we’re done here then.” she gets up from the head of the conference room table and leaves through the big glass doors and the rest of her team takes that as their cue to leave, too.

chrissy levels him with a look, waiting until the last intern has left the room before speaking.

“eddie, i know you’re pissed right now. trust me, i would be too,” she says, using that tone eddie always hates—the one that makes it sound like she’s trying to placate a rabid dog. “but the label has invested a lot of money into you and they need you to put in some work right now. take a minute, take a breath, and then we’ll talk again. but we need to respond; we can figure out what that looks like. i’ll talk to nance… maybe we don’t need a joint appearance. maybe you can just make a statement.”

eddie knows there are a ton of people relying on this tour & this upcoming album. he knows the band doesn’t deserve the hit from this. but what is there to even say? he’s just so fucking angry about it.

“fine. i’ll make an appearance. but i won’t, under any circumstances, be seen with him,” eddie tells her firmly. he slides his sunglasses back onto his face before pushing himself out of his chair and making his way over to the door. “just tell me when and where. and make sure nancy doesn’t make me sound like a fucking idiot.”

“great,” chrissy smiles so bright she looks like a teenager again. “i’ll talk to nancy. we’ll figure it out.”

any reassurance eddie feels is washed away by a renewed sense of annoyance when he sees steve waiting for him in the lobby, still wearing his pastel yellow sweater vest, drinking a purple smoothie from a straw and scrolling on his phone. he’s laughing at something on the screen and the sunlight comes through the huge front windows just right, making him glow golden, and eddie just feels something inside him twist unpleasantly.

steve looks up then to see eddie coming, but eddie breezes past him to the sidewalk. steve jumps up to follow, handing the valet their ticket. when the car finally pulls up, eddie says, “no liquids in the car,” before sliding into the back seat.

he sees steve shrug before smiling at the valet and handing him his half empty smoothie to dispose of and a tip.

the car ride home is silent. eddie practically leaps from the car before it’s even come to a stop when they pull into the driveway. there are packages on the table in the foyer, likely brought in by the security guy at the gate. “grab those,” eddie tells steve with a wave of his hand.

steve follows eddie into the kitchen, arms laden with paper bags and boxes. most of it, eddie knows, is free product and merch, stuff he never uses and mostly stuff he doesn’t even want. steve places the packages on the counter and watches as eddie sifts through them, clearly looking for something.

“do you want lunch?” steve asks. eddie ignores him, finally finding the package he’d ordered earlier today. he flings it across the kitchen island toward steve on the other side.

steve catches the package in his hands and arches an eyebrow.

“open it,” eddie tells him, nodding at paper wrapping. he opens the fridge to pull out a bottle of water and takes a long sip as he watches steve’s fingers tear at the brown paper.

once the package is open, steve huffs out a laugh, barely a breath, before holding up a bright pink cat collar with a tiny bell attached. he shakes it in the air, making the bell tinkle. the collar clearly will not fit him.

“fuck you, man,” steve says, still smiling.

“fuck you, too,” eddie says.

and then he leaves the kitchen.

[lalunanymph]

✧.* IN BLOOM

✧.* summary summer rains bring about the faint scent of asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen. time stands still, fragments of moments leading you right to this very second. you take his hand and a deep breath. “anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, caleb.” 

it’s all the permission he needs. 

✧.* warnings first time, mutual virginity loss, slightttt psuedo-cest if you squint, soft and smutty, size kink, spanking, oral sex, mating press, dirty talk, breeding, slight aftercare at the end, pillowtalk

✧.* dawn says something different from the dark content i usually write and tried my best to balance fluff and the feelings of losing your v-card for the first time (cue rose from titanic's voice: "it's been 84 yearsssss…")

It’s the middle of the night somewhere in Skyhaven. 

The street lights reflect puddles of rain left from a thunderstorm, and the air smells faintly of petrichor, reassuring weary strays and rain-soaked passersby alike that the worst is already over. 

While the world dries off from another raging tempest, inside Caleb’s home, you’re in his arms, warm and tipsy from the intimacy of shallow breaths gracing your parted lips. 

Smack. Huff. A caress. 

Slick and hot, the soft sounds of his kisses make you flush deeper, and you tighten your fingers in his hair. 

Caleb moans, unrestrained, as he feels you shift on his lap. Like a drug, he can’t get enough of you. The smell of wildflowers in your hair, how you taste like the strawberry balm he bought for you days ago when you complained of chapped lips. Slick fruitiness glides over his parched mouth, making his kisses glide effortlessly. 

He tangles his tongue with yours, sending a jolt of desire running up your spine. 

“Mhmph,” you moan against his mouth. “Oh… Caleb .” 

His name, sticky sweet with cadences of love, slips past your bruised lips, and he swears his heart chokes on a stutter.

Cool fingers push a stray lock of hair behind your ear, and he hums, those purple eyes vortexes of yearning. The maelstrom of emotion in them makes your chest squeeze, and you lean into his touch, breath coming out in a soft huff.

The unspoken tenuous line looms before the two of you, and you wonder if tonight is the night you’ll dare cross it. 

Flames from the digital fireplace flicker, synchronous with the temperature on the thermostat bumping up a notch, the one Caleb got installed because you grumbled that Skyhaven was colder than you remembered. Beads of sweat drip down his temples, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. 

You gently run the back of your hand against the muggy skin, wiping his perspiration away. 

This close, your breaths mingle and blend into one, the tips of your nose rubbing against each other. 

Inevitably, Caleb would pull back, sigh, and tell you to go to sleep while he takes a ridiculously long cold shower. You’d be left alone in your room, an ache blooming between your thighs, and frustration keeping you up all night.

That bastard. 

At your core, you understand your ex-older brother figure didn’t mean to edge you to the precipice of oblivion. His protective tendencies, while great in keeping danger away from you, are a hindrance to taking the next, natural step forward together.

As you feather another kiss to his jaw, you feel him pull back. 

Caleb’s cheeks are ruddy, not from the heat of the room, but from the one building between the two of you. 

He licks his lips, inadvertently drawing your attention to the puffy flesh which is still sticky from your errant smears of lip oil. With a huge sigh, he drags himself back from your orbit, as if he can’t bear to be within crashing distance of your surface. 

“Pipsqueak, it’s late,” Caleb whispers, the tenderness of his words brushing against your earlobe. 

You shiver when his teeth graze the sensitive flesh. 

“You need to sleep—”

Stubbornly, or perhaps, foolishly, you tighten your grip around his neck and drag him closer to you till his forehead bumps yours.

Your lips seek him with a newfound determination, and he almost stumbles back into the stuffed cushion, a moan of desperation slipping past his carefully crafted self-control. 

“Pip—”

“No,” you mumble heatedly, and drag your tongue across his lower lip, begging him for access into his mouth. 

Caleb reluctantly parts his lips and you tangle your tongue with his, tasting the sweetness of the apple soda he just drank half an hour ago. 

“Mhm,” he moans, and gives in to your momentary distraction, knotting his fingers into your already disheveled hair.

Something hard pokes your lower belly, and you whine into the heat of his kisses, running your tongue over the hard palate of his teeth. 

Caleb tightens his grip on your hips, and relents into the force of your yearning, feeling the contours of your body melting against the hard planes of his own muscular build. You shiver when he dips his fingers past the hemline of the tank top you’re wearing, your breasts pressed up to his chiseled pecs. He’s bare except for a low-slung pair of sweatpants, temptation right in the palm of your hand.

Your nipples pebble from the friction of his body slowly rubbing against yours, and the need he’s been stoking throbs warmly between your thighs, an aching thirst demanding to be quenched.

“ Caleb… ” 

The whispered moan feathers across his cheeks, grazing him with the warm softness that is entirely you.

In his arms, you’re sin waiting to be devoured—those doe-innocent eyes and warm, wet mouth that get him harder than steel. 

He whimpers when your lower body drags against his bulge, and winces when you giggle and gently nip his lower lip.

“Pipsqueak—”

Hoarse and ragged, the sound of your childhood nickname brings you up short.

“Caleb, why do you always insist on calling me that when I’m trying to… you know…” you trail off, equally as shy as him. 

It’s clear he doesn’t expect you to directly address the elephant in the room. But, after almost losing him once to the explosion and another time to his spiraling secrets, you desperately want to hold on to the man who had taught you what love was.

Caleb’s thumbs stroke the fleshy part of your hips, drawing tender circles on your skin. Those purple eyes flash like a doleful puppy’s and you resist the urge to pinch his cheek. He looks like he’s in pain—as if one touch from you could break him. 

“Are you sure?” 

His voice is hoarse. Uncertain.

“Once we do this, it’s…” he trails off. Years of knowing his ins and outs make you privy to the true meaning of his hesitation: 

Are you sure you want to cross this line with me? 

Your fingers tremble when they caress his jaw. Summer rains bring about the faint scent of Asiatic apple blossoms wafting through the house from an open window in the kitchen. 

Time stands still, fragments of moments leading you upright to this very second. 

You take his hand and a deep breath. Caleb sees your crystal clear eyes, free from the shadows of the doubt creeping into his mind. He tastes the first stirrings of hope, right in the center of his rib cage where his heart pounds valiantly, and tightens his grip on your hand.

You look at him like he’s something precious —gold and gems in the palm of your hand. Tenderly, you press a kiss to his forehead, tasting the salt of his skin, and murmur: 

“Anywhere you go, that’s where I want to be, Caleb. ” 

It’s all the permission he needs. 

Caleb snaps you up into his arms effortlessly, using his unbeatable strength to carry you back to his bedroom, his lips never leaving yours.

The heat of the moment is only broken when he sets you down on the bed, his lips detaching from yours for a moment to trail down your neck, nipping and sucking his marks all over the pristine canvas of your skin. You gasp, arching into his touch, when he nuzzles his face into the crook of your shoulder; biting down on the stretch of skin just begging to be marked by him.

He slides the strap of your tank top to the side, stamping more heated kisses down onto your shoulder, the jut of your arm. Every loving graze is punctuated by his devotion, those violet eyes brewing with the storm of his affection about to snap and break. 

Caleb… you whine, and he answers with a low grunt, his entire weight bearing down on you.

As kids, he’s always had the unfair advantage of his build and age to win at wrestling. Gran would often find the two of you entangled on the rug, you flushed and seething and him glowing with triumph when he’s won—yet again. 

But, the press of his body on yours is different this time. 

It carries a more intimate intention, all of which is far from the innocence of playfully fighting each other for the last hawthorn-flavored candy in the fridge, or the privilege of choosing what Saturday morning cartoons to watch. 

He sweeps your hair back, letting it drape over your other shoulder as he moves his lips to the delicate stretch of skin still untouched by the heat of his mouth. Caleb’s teeth graze your pulse point, and you jerk, as if electrocuted. 

“Nghm,” you moan, and he huffs a chuckle, his warm breath making goosebumps erupt across your arms. “ Fuc—”

“Uh-uh,” he chastises, the heat of his mouth swelling over your pulse point, gently sucking on your skin. Leaving another errant mark. “Don’t swear—good princesses never swear.”

Teeth sink into your lower lip. You feel dizzy and elated at the same time like you’re standing on the highest point of the earth, looking down at the swirling colors below.

“Ngh—C-Caleb. ” 

Oh, you sound so weak. Already driven to your knees, metaphorically, for this man who had as much power over you as you did over him. 

“Yeah, princess?” 

He moves his lips down to your sternum, hot puffs making your nipples perk up from her dormant slumber. They tent underneath the ratty, old t-shirt you’re wearing, the one that used to belong to him, demanding to be sucked and teased.

Caleb is careful to not push your boundaries, but you don’t want any of that.

Grabbing his head, you press it none-too-gently in between the valley of your tits, wordlessly signaling what you need.

His dog tag shines in the low light of his bedroom, the apple charm a glint of red that complements the fog of lust taking over you. Everywhere you look, you feel, is nothing but Caleb.

He presses you flat into the bed, the sheets bunching up under you and in your tight fists. 

“Don’t touch… not yet. Can you follow my orders, baby?” 

There’s no choice for you, but to nod. 

Slowly, like molasses dripping from the lip of a bottle, he wraps his mouth around your turgid, right nipple. The dampness of his saliva seeps past the thin fabric, and you cry out when he bites down on your bud, the brief flash of pain lighting up your nerves from head to toe.

 Slick need saturates the seat of your old sleep pants. You whimper when the head of his cock drives between the cleft of your pussy, digging against your clit. 

Sparks of pleasure ricochet from the tips of your fingers up to your hairline and you groan, mouth falling lax.

He takes his time, swirling his tongue over your tender peak, broad strokes of his tongue spreading more spit and heat, wetting the front of your shirt. It’s methodical, how every stroke of attention stacks up to a building heat throbbing at your core.

A supernova of desire, bulging and waiting to explode.

(And, he hasn’t even fucked you yet).

Caleb moves his attention to your other peak, and you cry out when he nibbles on it, your hands breaking formation from the bed where he’s ordered them to be stationed, and tangling disobediently in his dark hair.

But, he doesn’t chastise you. 

Caleb continues to purl swathes of his tongue over your tender nipple, flickering his darkened gaze up to the line of your jaw as the pleasure unfurls across your heated face.

You choke on another cry when he pries your thighs further apart, settling his bigger build between them. 

“Look at you.” Heated derision drips from his venomous lips, and you lap them up, tilting his head up to taste his lips. You’re not sure how you ended up in this position when it was you who wanted this. The last bit of control you have dissipates, and your body falls open for him like the spine of a well-read book. 

It scares you how much Caleb knows about your body. The small scar above your knee when you crashed your bike into the wide trunk of an oak tree. The grooves of your neck now bear his kisses and marks.

Despite staying true to his word about never getting a girlfriend, Caleb is mysteriously nimble and sure for a virgin. 

“Did you have another girl before me?”

You don’t mean to sound accusatory, but the words fly from your puffy lips and you can’t take them back.

Not when he glances up at you as if you had insulted thirteen generations of his family.

“Uh—no,” he mutters defensively, caustically pushing back his sweat-soaked bangs from his flushed face. “ Excuseeee me, princess. What’s with that tone? You know you’re the only woman I’d ever touch.”

You purse your lips and level him another glare, though it’s tempered by a glowing warmth in your chest. 

“R-really?” 

You hate how whiny you sound, like a psychotic girlfriend. But, Caleb does have a penchant for bringing out the crazy in you when you least expect it.

He brings your knuckles to his lips, feathering a soft kiss on them. “Yeah. Why do you think I took so many cold showers growing up? This little pipsqueak is far too tempting for me.” He punctuates his point with another kiss on the nape of your neck. 

His Adam's apple bobs from the admission, and your eyes widen. 

“Huh. I seeee .” 

You drag your words like him, playfully pinching his cheek. “That’s… kinda sweet.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” his gruffness reminds you of a ruffled puppy, and you laugh, tugging his silver chain with two fingers. 

The scene flickers. The man on top of you cracks, and a fragment of the boy you grew up with glimmers; the past merges with the present, and the essence of who Caleb is grins mischievously right in front of you. 

Like so many times before, he tackles you onto the bed, hands flying underneath your shirt to tickle your sides.

“No! Caleb! I yield! I yield—! ” 

Your infectious laughter bounces across the monochromatic walls of his room and fills his lungs with bubbles of joy. 

“Yeah, you better,” he threatens jokingly. While you’re still giggling, he grabs the hem of your shirt and gives it an experimental tug. When you don’t resist, Caleb pushes the envelope of your consent and lifts the shirt past the smooth terrain of your tummy, inching it up slowly… so slow… 

His fingers are trembling, and you take over, helping him with the last stretch, leaning up to tug your shirt completely off your body. 

Your chest squeezes with a mix of dread and anticipation when he eyes your bare breasts, a myriad of emotions flitting across those deep-set purple eyes.

Need, desire, shame, anger—tenderness.

His eyes speak the truth, even when he remains silent, and no matter how much he changes into the stoic Colonel you now have to coincide with your gentle older brother figure, those irises will always betray his true emotions for you. 

Now, they’re gooey with a feeling neither of you can name, as he peppers more kisses around the plush fat of your breast. Taking his time, he teases you with puffs of hot breath and grazes of his teeth.

Working you up to a crescendo of need before he gives you what you want. 

And god, do you want it.

Your body is arching tighter than a bow ready to strike, so keyed up from his few touches and the previous makeout session. 

“Caleb—”

“Yeah, gotcha.” 

He samples the flavor of your skin, closer now to your nipple. Your thoughts flat lines into a white-hot buzzing hum when he finally— finally —wraps his lips around your tender bud. 

Fuuucckkk. Your keening sigh sends a chill straight to his bones. 

Suckling tenderly, he pulls the taut flesh into the enticing vacuum of his mouth and releases it, forming a small ‘O’ with his puffy lips and moving on to your next breast. 

The twinge of unending sucking and nibbling rubs your tender flesh raw. 

Caleb… Caleb… 

You’re panting like you’re racing a marathon. He leaves a bunch of hickies down the pillowy fat of your tits, making his mark loud and clear on your body for the world to see.

A possessive hint curls on the edges of his smile and he braces himself on his forearms, juicy biceps glistening in the interplay of shadow and light in this muggy room. 

Peeling your glassy eyes at him, you huff, grumbling.

“Tease.”

He laughs heartily at your adorable accusation.

“Never said I wasn’t a right bastard, love,” he coos, cocky and sure. You want to wipe the smirk off his infuriatingly handsome face.

Leaning up, your spit-soaked nipples rub the hard planes of his broad chest, and you tangle your hand in his hair, drawing him down into the plush sin of your eager kisses.

“S-low down,” he huffs, smothered by your smacking little puckers. 

You giggle, a vixen on the loose, needing to rein her mate in. “Nuh-uh. Not until you finally fuck me senseless.”

Caleb cocks a brow. “S’that an invitation, darlin’?” 

Stuttering, you realize your mistake a second too late when he prowls over you, pressing you into the mattress, fluid like a panther locking sights on its prey.

“ Wait— ”

Caleb wastes no time hooking his thumbs under the frayed band of your shorts, tugging it down in staccato drags to mess with you. 

“ Caleb—! ” 

You whine, more turned on than annoyed by his teasing. It’s not until the sight of your mound appears, clinging to the edge of the band like the horizon of a new world beckoning to be explored does he stops, gaping at the sight with reddening ears.

It’s your turn to mess with him. “Cat got your tongue… gege?” 

He stares at the sliver of skin like a blind man feeling the sun on his face for the first time. 

“Shit,” he breathes. “You’re beautiful .” 

Tentatively, he drags the last remaining piece of clothing off your body, his breath lodging in the back of his throat. 

God… he groans. Pretty, little princess… gonna taste you so good.

Two worlds crash, sky to earth, and Caleb’s mouth meets the terrain of your pelvis. Traveling downward, he connects a path from hip to mound, and you feel his tongue sampling this uncharted territory. 

His broad back almost blocks out the light above and god—you’re already panting when the sharp jut of his shoulder blades creates an attractive silhouette sliding down the last few inches of your body, finding his haven in the juncture of your thighs. 

Caleb spreads' em’ nice and wide, making sure to run the tip of his tongue over the cushiony bounce of his lower lip. Shit, you murmur under your breath, before he dips his head and enjoys his meal. 

The tapered edge of his tongue touches your clit, and you lose the last semblance of control. 

You know Caleb’s always been a foodie, and the way he practically feasts on your pussy is no different.

Slick juices smear across his pretty mauve lips, and he slurps you up obscenely. The gloss of his spit lubes you up hotly from the inside, filling you with a pressing slick. 

Oh—mhmph… you groan, panting heavily. 

How was he so goddamn good with his tongue?

“Nghmm,” he moans, looking up at you with drunken purple eyes, lost in the sweetness of this sin he can’t stop devouring. “You taste heavenly.” 

Caleb presses into your pussy, treating her like an old lover he wants to French kiss till dawn. 

The high bridge of his nose bumps against your tender clitty, and he takes this chance to smear his lips all over your folds, rubbing your bundle of nerves raw. 

Your back lifts off from the bed and you can’t make sense of where you start and he ends.

“H-ahhh,” you moan, and twine your fingers in his hair, tugging.

“Easy,” he groans, lifting his wet, plump lips from where your core is inhaling him in. “Y’gonna make me bald in no time, princess…”

A senseless dribble of drool trickles past your lips, and you feel the thick toughness of his finger swiping it up, popping it into his mouth. Caleb grins, spreading your legs wider, and lifts your lower body off the bed. The sight of a dark spot seeping the front of his pants makes your breathing stutter, and you can’t keep your eyes away from such a lewd show. 

“See what’cha do to me, sweetness?” He moans and gingerly takes your hand with his right one to press it right on his crotch.

Holy shit. Your eyes bulge wide. 

He’s fucking huge.

You lick your lips in nerves, unable to tear your eyes away from the undulating mass of his rock-hard abs moving with every ragged breath he takes. 

“Is that…?” 

Caleb smirks, a dark look flitting in his eyes. “All for you?” he finishes. “Yeah, sweetness.” 

As if goading you to take the next step, he tips his head to the side, looking at you from under his thick lashes, his magnetic eyes pinning you to the bed.

“Wanna see it?” 

He guides your hand to rock against the hard bulge, and you swallow when you feel him twitch under your palm.

The reality of your position under him hits you, and you feel as if every breath you take might make you float up to the ceiling. Your mind is racing, a cacophony of thoughts that swirl and blend into one pulsing thrum of more, more, more. 

“Y-yeah.” 

He grunts at your admittance and steers your fingers to the edge of his band. “There you go—tug it down, princess…” 

You do as he says, and gasp when the crown of his cock comes into view. 

Girthy, thick. Veiny. 

A dark, almost violet-inky trail of hair leads down to the rise of his pubic bone, and you stare as the curve of his cock becomes more pronounced. Flaccid at 6 inches, he would rise to greater heights once released into the open air, and you panic, closing your fist around his still-clothed head as you beg him with your eyes to pause.

“Hold on…” you gasp. “Jus’ wait a minute.”

Caleb pauses, his eyes flashing. 

“You… don’t want this?” 

The implicit question hangs heavy in the air. 

You don't want me?

It pains you how quick he is to incriminate himself as undesirable when it's the furthest thing from the truth. 

“No!” you mumble and gently hook your fingers under his chin to get him to look at you. “I just… need a second to recalibrate cause… holy shit… you’re massive—”

He guffaws, shaking his head, boyish face lit up in joy. “S’that all? Aw, princess…” he coos and flicks your nose with his index finger. “Swear, you can be so adorable sometimes…” he teases, and you huff.

You take a deep breath and center yourself, before finding the courage to proceed with tugging down his boxers and sweatpants. 

“Okay…” you murmur, and un-fist the soft material, dragging it down with bated breath. 

There he is, in all his glory. 

He’s warm and alive in your hands, and you give the girthy base a generous pump. His smell hits you—musk, man, briny… 

Is this how a real man feels? You think your obvious lack of experience makes you faint with worry. 

Would Caleb notice? 

Would he hate how you don’t even know what to do with a cock? 

What if he doesn’t want you to touch him—deciding you’re too inexperienced for his tastes…? 

“Shit—” Caleb hisses, taken off guard by your sudden movement. “You’re killing me here, princess…” 

In such simple praise, you find your footing once more against the tidal wave of insecurity. 

Pushing aside your worries, you hum, taking your time to explore his body. 

The divots of his abs, the crinkles of his girth as it sits so pretty on his lower body like a pair of crown jewels. 

You run your thumb over the pulsing globes of his balls, feeling the soft, almost velvety skin dimpling under your touch. 

Caleb grunts, and you flicker your gaze to him. His brows are furrowed, and he looks a second away from busting a vein, his face a light shade of puce.

“Caleb?” You softly call out to him in worry. “Are you—?”

“Yeah,” he gasps, and shakes his head, closing his eyes. “Jus’... didn’t expect you to feel this good…”

Good? 

You feel… good? 

Licking your lips, you focus your concentration on the fleshy plump head of his cock. If he has sensitive balls, Caleb is practically a timebomb of nerves on the tip of his arousal. 

Flushed and sticky with pre, you swipe your thumb through the crease of his slit, gathering the milky white deposit and slowly bringing it to your mouth.

Salty. With a hint of bitterness.

Surprisingly, he tastes amazing—

Large hands yank your away from his cock. 

He doesn’t give you the luxury of time to enjoy him. 

Your world suddenly tilts and Caleb’s growl is loud in your ear. He has you pressed into the sheets, your face in the soft cotton, and his large palms kneading the doughy rise of your bare ass. 

Smack!

You gasp and jerk back, indignation at the tip of your tongue. But, it dissipates when he drivels a finger right into your core, sinking fully into the heat of your pussy. 

Your scream is muffled into the pillowy sheets, and he wastes no time in hooking his meaty digit up, hitting a spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

With his other hand, he continues to spank you, little pert taps that grow in intensity as his frustration builds.

“Look - at - how - wet - you’re - getting,” he snarls, and withdraws his fingers to show you the trails webbing in between them, proof of your not-so-innocent reciprocation. Caleb taps his slick fingers to your lips, and you part them obediently, half-thrills of fear and lust curling up your spine.

The taste of you perforates your tongue. Sweet and musky, you've sampled your arousal before, but never from his hand. Gagging lightly on his digits, your eyes roll back into your head and you feel his fingers tickling your uvula.

Shit, he curses under his breath. You're too cute, Pipsqueak… too precious.

He moans as you gurgle his name. Cwaleb…

Throaty and sweet, you're the perfect symphony and he could listen to you all night. 

Caleb withdraws his sticky fingers from the back of your throat with a damp, little ‘pop’ as his spit-slicked digits tap your cheek.

“Fuck, you're too perfect .”

He sets you back on your back, your pouty, glossy lips twisting in a smirk. Caleb hooks your ankles around his shoulders, and—showing he's about as virginal as a town bicycle—smooths his thumb through the mess of your folds.

His pointer catches on the lip of your gaping, swollen pussy, and he hums when he smears your love juices all around, making sure to get it as messy and creamy as possible.

Inching his thumb past the loosened ring of muscle, he grins. 

The gooey, silky mess coats him to the knuckle. You're already pretty free and easy for him to slip his cock in.

“Just a little more, sweetness,” he coos, twisting his thumb, slipping it out only to replace it with his index finger. His now free thumb smears the cream of your arousal around, catching on the pearly mound of your clit as he deepens the pressure.

Nghh ahhh, Caleb! You cry out. 

Your cheeks are warm, eyes glossy with heat and Caleb can't get enough of the way you're panting and twisting on the sheets, writhing like a prey caught in his trap.

It's too much. Too fucking much.

Desire turns your thoughts hazy. There’s a swollen spot inside of you that he manipulates with ease, pressing down on it— “S’good girl,” he murmurs into your neck. “Taking my fingers so well. You make me so damn proud, darlin’.” 

You’re panting, lapping at the sweat beading on your upper lip.

It’s too hot. 

He feels like a fucking furnace above you.

Bigger than any man you ever imagined to take, Caleb is a beast trapped in the body of the boy you love. His scent drenches you—cedar wood body soap bleeding into your pores, marking you as his. The scent of his aftershave grazes your cheek as he leans in to give you a sloppy, full-tongued kiss. 

Mhmmph—you mewl, clinging onto him like ivy.

Your thighs wrap around his waist instinctively, and everything is primal when you finally give yourself up to him. 

His plump, weepy tip catches on your pulsing opening, and he groans at the briefest contact of slick mingling together. You’re so wet, your pussy juices web with his pre, silvery strands clinging to the lip of that little hole he wants so badly to sink into.

Like the deepest tunnel in space, Caleb wants to venture where no man will ever go. He grasps the head of his cock and guides it right to where the blackhole of all his desires resides, rimming the opening where he swears nirvana throbs out his name.

Caleb… she calls out to him. Claim me. Come in me. 

He answers her signal, forehead smushed with yours, his sweat dripping into your slack mouth.

It’s a strange sensation.

Fingers. Tampons. The occasional vibrator. 

None of it can compare to the sheer volume and intensity of a real cock pushing past the envelope of your flesh. The ridges and bumps feel magnified as if there’s a forcefield of pleasure accompanying such penetration. Like it’s sucking you into a different dimension. 

Your head spins and your gasps sound far away, like someone has plunged you right into a swimming pool. 

The only anchor you have is Caleb’s broad shoulders.

You hold onto him as he rocks his hips forward, pleasure unfurling down your spine like a current. 

Fuck… Caleb… 

There’s nothing else in your mind but him.

The sound of his groans. The pinched furrow of ecstasy on his brow. His swollen lips hovering over yours. 

Even the dim lighting of the room makes you feel cocooned in his embrace, safe from the horrors of the world. 

It’s effortless, really, how he grasps your hips and opens you up to him like you’re a centerpiece dish all bared out and vulnerable. 

Nimble hands arrange you into the meanest mating press as your legs dangle above you uselessly, swaying with every hard roll of his thrusts. 

Caleb fucks like he wants to put you through the mattress. 

There’s nothing romantic about this—a man hellbent on making you his. His cockhead smushes with your cervix in a romantic dance of fleeting French kisses. Marking you for days. God, you whine. God, you’re—

So good.

So good.

Oh, Caleb. 

More. More. 

You don’t even notice the light schmear of blood coating his length. Or, how the pinch of pain is overridden by the messy plap plap plap of your bodies meeting together.

You’ve just given up your virginity to the boy you love—the man who’s been with you through hell and back. 

Caleb grabs your ankles and presses it down onto the pillows above your head, plunging his cock in and out, in and out. It’s sloppy and you’re making a mess everywhere.

Foamy white creams at the base of his cock, dribbling onto the dark sheets of his duvet.

Your body rocks with him, the bed creak creak creaking under the brunt of his thrusts. 

He dwarfs you, a mountain of a man bruising the same golden spot that makes your toes curl in your periphery.

“Fuck,” he drawls, purple eyes gouging on your every reaction. “You— mhm —’re squeezin’ down so good, princess.” He huffs, dew drops of sin splattering from his lips and lapped up by your tongue on his jaw. Caleb groans, his hips stuttering. “Can’t get enough of you,” he starts to babble, face flush and eyes heavy with intoxication. Your pussy is the perfect drug for him. 

He starts to whine, dog tags slicked with sweat and heavy with his body heat thudding against your jaw. You part your lips and bite down on the metal, tasting salt and tang. “You—ngmmm—feel too good… so good—ah, shit, sweetness—” Caleb curses, thick fingers dimpling into the flesh of your hips and tipping you up to be fuller of him. 

C-can’t hold back, darlin’, he almost whimpers. I-I can’t… you gotta come with me. Come on, sweetness, give it to me… give me your cum, baby. That’s it, baby. Ooohhh, yes. Yes. There she is. Atta girl. Goooddd girl. Stay with me, baby. Don’t—lift your hips, fuck. Lemme rub that pretty pearl, darlin’. You look so good cummin’ all over me—

Your screams pierce the night air, echoing with a clap of thunder outside the windows. But, you can’t pay attention to storms, not when the biggest one is wrecking you apart.

Caleb moves like a man possessed, greasin’ his thumb around your pebbled clit, changing the angle so he’s pushing even deeper—

“Caleb!” 

Your back arches off the bed, till only the crown of your head remains on the pillows. Caleb pushes back, drowning you back into the sheets, his whole body pressing down— “Shit, nghmmm! —” he grounds out in a low voice. 

Almost a growl. 

It makes your insides shiver around his cock. He doesn’t jackhammer you like those oiled-up studs do in pornos. 

He takes it intensely, grinding his hips, injecting his rhythm with a few punctuating thrusts. 

“Good —” you choke out. “—fuck me so good— ”

Yeah? He teases, dark bangs falling in his face, covering one of his magnetic violet irises. 

Your body tenses, abs clenching, and he groans.

Tipping you further down the precipice, Caleb ducks his head and engorges his wet, hot mouth around your swollen nipples. He pinches the other one with his free hand, the spare still frigging your clit with the intensity of a madman. 

Your eyes roll back into your head.

You clench—hard.

White hot paint splatters behind your closed eyes, imprinting on your lids and the world fades into hypersound as you scream:

Caaaleeeebbbb!

Oh, shit. 

Your walls massage him better than any fleshlight could. Definitely a thousand times better than his hand. 

He’s a goner right there and then. 

Thick, fat spurts of hot, sticky cum fill you up. Neither he nor you care about what this means, pumping you to the brim until wet, gummy dribbles splotch down onto the bed. Caleb shudders like a great beast, and with one last, heaving push, he breeds you. 

.

.

.

There’s nothing else in the ringing quiet but your ragged breath. 

The world slowly comes back—a flickering flash of thunder. Caleb’s soft groan. 

He pulls himself out, and the effect is a reverse weirdness of when he fucked himself in. 

It leaves you gaping. Empty. You whine and he chuckles tiredly, gathering you into his arms.

All's silent for a few moments until you hear the bed creak and his weight off the mattress. Your blurry eyes open to find his massive, muscular frame in all its naked glory ambling to the bathroom. In a few moments, a warm softness glides between your puffy, well-abused folds, and you moan, twitching away.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “But, I gotta get you cleaned up. Stay still, sweets.”

He wipes you down until you’re clean again, and tosses the soiled rag to the floor. Your arms open on autopilot for him, and Caleb chuckles, sinking back into the ring of warmth your body gives him. 

Sighing into your hair, he tightens his grip around you. Outside, the eddies of raindrops swirl down the window panes, and another flash of thunderclaps. He slowly presses a kiss to your head, holding you tighter as a new storm rages unceasingly. 

Caleb yanks the blankets up to your waist, and uses himself as a weighted one, pressing you into the soft mattress, much to your bubbling giggles. He smiles, loving the sound, and gently flicks your chin with his index finger.

“I didn’t hurt you, didn’t I?” 

He moves to your side and you turn around, propping your head under your arm to gaze at him, a lovesick expression etched on your face.

Caleb mirrors your movement, also sliding his arm under his head, his other slung casually on your hip.

“Nah,” you admit after a beat of silence. “Didn’t even feel it.”

He pretends to pout. “Y’know, if you say that in a different context, I would get really, really hurt, Pipsqueak.”

You groan, and smack his chest. “Just like you to ruin the mood.”

He catches your hand, pressing your palm to his cheek with a boyish laugh. 

“I’m kiddin'! Kidding, darlin’. C’mere—” 

Yoinking you closer, he smears a kiss onto the nape of your neck. 

As you trace his arm, he hums.

“You… really blew my mind,” he admits sheepishly. 

“Huh. I did?” It’s your turn to tease him now. “Well… I guess so did you.”

You yelp when he pinches your ass playfully. 

“‘Oh, Calebbbb ’.” He mocks your earlier moans. “‘Ahhhh moreee moreee— ’” 

“Hey—!” 

He lets you smack his chest, snickering in glee like a stupid boy. 

“Juussstt kiddin’, sweets.” He kisses you right on your pouty lips. “Knew you’d be perfect. You’re always perfect.”

And, your heart melts.

“Really?” You whisper as a subtle flash of lightning illuminates one side of his grin. Warmth fills you up when he nods.

“Is it sad to say I’ve been dreamin’ about you like this for eons?” 

You shake your head, a smile playing on the corners of your lips. Slightly breathless, you respond: 

“I’ve been… thinking about you that way, too, baby.”

You expect him to make a stupid joke, or to diffuse the tender moment with his snark. 

But, Caleb doesn’t do that. He loves being in this delicate bubble with you—and only you. 

“Good,” he hums. “Because I’m not done with you yet, sweets—not by a lonnggg shot.”

a/n: comments and reblogs are very much appreciated ! thank you for reading ;D

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost, claim as your own or feed my content to AI learning tools.

[theballadofharkness]

Agatha Harkness VS Salem: the kittening

Pairing: Agatha Harkness X fem!reader

Summary: When you brings home a stray kitten Agatha can’t say no to those big pleading eyes and putting lips. What she doesn’t know is that she has met her new mortal enemy, transforming her house in a battleground in which she is fighting for your attention.

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: I may have already almost finished a part 2 to this already… this may be my favourite thing I’ve ever wrote

The candlelight flickered, casting long shadows along the walls as Agatha sat at the head of the table, fingers drumming against the polished surface. Your fellow witches exchanged glances, some amused, others bracing for the inevitable storm.

“She’s taking too long,” Agatha muttered, narrowing her eyes at the door as if sheer will alone would bring you home.

Billy smirked but wisely kept his mouth shut. Lilia, however, leaned forward, arching a brow. “She just went to get food, Agatha. You do remember she’s an adult, yes?”

Agatha’s sharp glare snapped to her, but Lilia didn’t flinch. She was used to Agatha’s theatrics by now.

“I do remember,” Agatha said, tone clipped, “but she should be back by now. Anything could’ve happened.”

Jen chuckled under her breath. “Oh yes, because the biggest, scariest threat to her is probably tripping over a squirrel.”

Alice grinned. “Or getting distracted by a particularly interesting tree.”

Agatha’s scowl deepened, but her fingers stilled. It was true- you were soft, gentle, prone to stopping to feed birds or magically fixing a bumblebees wing. It was why she loved you. It was why she worried.

Lilia sighed, resting her chin on her palm. “If you panic every time she goes out alone, she’ll think you don’t trust her to be independent.”

Agatha’s jaw clenched. “I trust her. I just don’t trust other people.”

Billy snorted. “Sure Agatha.”

Before Agatha could snap at him, the front door creaked open. The tension in her shoulders snapped like a thread, and in an instant, she was on her feet, sweeping toward you.

There you were, glowing with warmth, eyes bright as you kicked off your shoes. But she saw it- the hesitation, the way you bit your lip. Her stomach dropped.

“You worried mommy,” she purred, brushing a hand along your cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip. “You took too long. What’s wrong, darling?”

You swallowed, shifting your weight, cradling something in your arms.

“Aggie… please don’t be mad.”

Agatha’s eyes darkened. “Why would I be mad?”

You hesitated, then slowly, gently, lifted a tiny, black-furred bundle into view. A kitten. Small, fragile, with wide, gleaming eyes. It mewed softly.

Agatha’s nostrils flared. “Oh, absolutely not.”

The room went silent. The coven, who had seen Agatha deal with all manner of supernatural threats, were now witnessing something far more dangerous: a battle of wills between the all-powerful Agatha Harkness and her painfully sweet, unfairly adorable wife.

Agatha crossed her arms, leveling you with a firm stare. “No.”

You blinked up at her, cradling the tiny kitten against your chest. “No?”

She lifted her chin. “No.”

Billy, sitting on the couch, leaned toward Jen and whispered, *“She’s already lost.”*

Agatha shot him a look, but her attention snapped back to you when you let out a soft, sad sigh. You rubbed a gentle finger over the kitten’s tiny ear, your lower lip jutting out just slightly. Not enough to be dramatic, just enough to devastate her.

“Aggie, please,” you murmured, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes. “I love him. He needs us.”

Agatha steeled herself. “Baby, come on, we have a rabbit already.”

You perked up. “But they can be best friends!”

“They will not be best friends-”

“We can raise him,” you continued, stepping closer, voice soft, persuasive, sweet as honey. “Please, Aggie. I love you. And I love him. Please?”

A muscle in Agatha’s jaw twitched. Her fingers flexed like she was physically holding herself back.

Alice, watching from across the room, snorted. “Oh my god, just let her keep the damn cat.”

“She’s gonna say yes,” Jen stage-whispered.

Billy propped his chin on his hand. “She’s just stretching it out for dramatic effect now.”

“I am not,” Agatha snapped, then turned back to you, who was still looking at her like she hung the moon and stars in the sky. Damn you and your sweetness.

She let out a long, suffering sigh, dragging a hand down her face. Then, after a moment, she dropped her hand, pinched the bridge of her nose, and muttered, “fine.”

You gasped, eyes lighting up as you clutched the kitten closer. “Really?”

Agatha groaned. “Yes, really. But I swear to the gods, if he scratches up my books, or if he pisses on the rug, he’s your problem.”

You grinned, bouncing up and down in glee. “Okay! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise you’ll love him!”

Agatha grumbled something under her breath but didn’t resist when you threw your arms around her. Her hands settled on your waist, grip firm but familiar, and she sighed against your hair.

Billy snickered. “Well, that was pathetic.”

Agatha shot him a glare over your shoulder. “I will turn you into a toad.”

But even as she threatened Billy, her arms curled tighter around you, and she let you tuck the kitten between you both. He let out a tiny, content purr.

“I told you mommy would let you stay didn’t I S…” you cooed, stopping and blushing as you almost revealed your new sons name.

Agatha groaned. “Oh, for the love of- you’ve already named him, haven’t you?”

You smiled guiltily and nodded “his name is Salem”

Lilia cackled. “Oh, now that’s just poetic.”

~

Agatha woke with a slow, satisfied stretch, a lazy smirk curling on her lips as she reached across the bed, expecting to find you- warm, soft, pliant against her.

But the sheets were cold.

Her smirk faded. She frowned, eyes cracking open, hand still patting the empty space beside her. “Baby?”

Silence.

Her frown deepened.

She sat up, fingers raking through her hair, listening carefully. Then…

A giggle.

Agatha’s head snapped toward the bedroom door. You were giggling? Without her? Another soft peal of laughter, followed by a quiet meow. Agatha’s nostrils flared.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she grabbed her robe, slipping it on as she stalked toward the door. Her morning had already been ruined by the lack of you curled against her, but now she was hearing giggles- the kind that were usually reserved for her alone- and she wasn’t involved?

Completely unacceptable.

Barefoot and silent, she padded down the hall, pushing open the living room doors to find…

You. Laying on your stomach on the rug, elbow propped under your chin, face alight with pure, radiant joy as you dragged a ribbon back and forth. Salem, the tiny black-furred usurper, pounced and tumbled after it, little tail flicking in excitement.

Agatha scowled.

She was being ignored.

By you.

For a cat.

Her presence went unnoticed as she leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, glaring down at the scene with unmasked displeasure.

“Oh, you’re such a clever boy,” you cooed, wiggling the ribbon. Salem pounced again, missing completely and landing in an adorable, flailing heap. You laughed, reaching out to scratch behind his ears. “Such a little hunter, aren’t you? Yes, you are! So fierce!”

Agatha rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw another dimension.

Fierce? That tiny thing was not fierce. She was fierce.

And yet, here you were, lavishing all your attention- attention that should have been spent in bed, between her thighs or seated on her face- on this ridiculous furball.

Enough.

She cleared her throat. Loudly.

You gasped, looking up with wide, startled eyes. “Oh! Aggie, good morning!”

Agatha arched a brow, gaze flicking between you and the kitten still sprawled on the rug. “Is it?”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, blinking at her. “What’s wrong?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “You tell me, darling. I woke up alone. And when I came looking for you, I find you here, on the floor, giggling and fawning over-” she gestured vaguely at Salem, “that.”

Salem, utterly unbothered by her disdain, flopped onto his back and stretched out his tiny paws.

Your expression softened immediately. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry! He woke up early and was being all cute, so I thought I’d play with him for a little bit.”

Agatha’s eye twitched. “You left our bed for a cat.”

You bit your lip, suppressing a smile. “Are you jealous?”

Her jaw clenched. “Of a kitten? No.”

You giggled again, pushing up onto your knees and crawling toward her. “Mmm, I think you are.”

Agatha huffed, tilting her chin up. “Absolutely not.”

But then you reached for her, standing up with hands slipping under her robe, fingers grazing over the bare skin of her waist as you pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone. “Poor mommy,” you murmured, lips trailing up her neck. “You just want my attention, don’t you?”

Agatha shivered, but held her ground. “I deserve your attention.”

You hummed, pressing a final kiss just under her jaw. “Well, then maybe you should play nice with Salem, so you don’t have to share it.”

Agatha’s glare snapped back to the kitten, who was currently grooming his tiny paw, wholly unbothered. Smug little thing.

She exhaled sharply. “Fine. But if he touches my spellbooks, he’s gone.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms around her waist. “Deal.”

Salem meowed.

Agatha scowled.

This was war.

~

Agatha took a slow breath, rolling back her shoulders as she watched Billy attempt the spell she had just demonstrated.

“Focus,” she instructed, arms crossed. “Channel your energy through the rune, don’t just throw power at it.”

Billy muttered something under his breath but obeyed, adjusting his stance and trying again. The rune shimmered in the air before them, pulsing faintly with his magic. It was… adequate.

Agatha nodded once. “Better.”

She turned slightly, expecting to see you sitting up, watching like you always did when she mentored Billy. You were always so attentive- so soft and doting, looking at her like she had hung the stars just by showing a simple spell. But when she glanced toward the sofa her blood ran cold.

There you were, but not watching her. Not waiting to drape yourself over her the second she was done. No, you were napping, curled up on the couch, and draped across your chest, smug as anything, was Salem.

Agatha’s nostrils flared. Unbelievable.

She clenched her fists, fighting the petty urge to hex the little thing right off you. It was enough that you fawned over him every waking moment, but now? Now, even in sleep, Salem had claimed his place as the ruler of this household.

Billy, following her gaze, immediately perked up. “Oh my god, look at him.”

Agatha’s stomach dropped as Billy abandoned the lesson entirely and rushed to your side.

“Look at this little guy,” he cooed, crouching beside the couch, reaching out to scratch under Salem’s tiny chin.

You stirred at the movement, blinking sleepily, eyes soft and warm as you woke to Billy petting the cat.

“Oh,” you yawned, smiling as you stretched. “Morning, Billy.”

“Morning, Salem,” Billy smiled down at the kitten on your chest, still cooing over the kitten.

You giggled, rubbing your cheek against Salem’s tiny head. “He’s the sleepiest boy today, huh?”

“Right?” Billy agreed, reaching to stroke along Salem’s tiny back. “Look at him. He’s just a baby.”

Agatha, still standing stiffly across the room, gawking at the scene in front of her. You never looked at her with that same soft, sleepy adoration after a nap.

And now the two of you were sitting there, utterly obsessed with that ridiculous creature, treating him like he was the most precious thing in the world, while Agatha stood there, forgotten.

The realisation was horrifying. She had been dethroned. Salem, tiny and innocent-looking, had become the true ruler of this household. He had you. He had the coven. And now he had Billy.

She was losing.

Agatha narrowed her eyes. No. She refused to be bested by a kitten.

Billy glanced up at her and grinned. “Agatha, come look at him! Isn’t he just-”

“No.”

Billy blinked. “What?”

Agatha lifted her chin, crossing her arms tighter over her chest. “I don’t fawn over creatures that contribute nothing to the household.”

You pouted, looking up at her through sleepy eyes. “But, Aggie, look at his little toes—”

Agatha looked away. She wouldn’t be tricked.

Billy rolled his eyes. “You’re just mad because Salem has completely stolen your wife.”

Agatha scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Billy smirked. “Then come pet him.”

Agatha froze.

Billy’s smirk widened. “Go on.”

You looked up at her, hopeful, and patted the space next to you. “Come on, baby.”

Agatha hesitated.

Her instincts told her it was a trap.

But then you pouted, soft and irresistible, looking at her with those big, pleading eyes… And just like that, she was moving. Slowly. Cautiously.Like Salem was some ancient being waiting to strike.

She perched stiffly on the edge of the couch, glancing down at the tiny ball of fluff stretched across your chest. He blinked up at her, slow and lazy, like he was daring her to do something.

Agatha exhaled sharply through her nose. Then, after a long moment she reached out, one single finger extended…The second her fingertip brushed against Salem’s fur, the kitten let out a mighty stretch and promptly rolled deeper into your embrace, turning his back on her.

Agatha gasped.

Billy lost it.

“Oh my god, you’ve been rejected.” He wheezed.

Agatha’s eye twitched. “I have not.”

Billy cackled, clutching his stomach. “No, no, this is humiliating. He knows. He knows you don’t like him, and he’s snubbing you.”

You giggled, pressing a kiss to Salem’s tiny head. “Oh, baby, don’t be mad. He just doesn’t trust you yet.”

Agatha bristled. “I don’t need a cat’s trust.”

Billy wheezed. “Oh, you so do.”

Agatha glared at Salem, and to her horror, the kitten simply let out a tiny yawn and promptly fell back asleep. Utterly unbothered. Agatha had never hated anything more in her life.

This was war.

And Agatha Harkness never lost.

~

The room was dimly lit, the air thick with warmth and want. Agatha had you exactly where she wanted- beneath her, lips kiss-swollen, breath coming in soft little pants as she trailed possessive hands down your body.

She smirked, brushing her lips against your ear. “Mine.”

You whimpered, arching into her touch. “Yours.”

A pleased hum rumbled in her throat. “Say it again, baby.”

You shivered, fingers tangling in hair as she kissed down your neck. “All yours, Mommy.”

Agatha’s grip tightened. Finally, after an entire day of being ignored in favor of that creature, she had you back- where you belonged- focused entirely on her.

She dragged her lips back up to yours, capturing them in a deep, claiming kiss.

And then—

A thump.

A chirping meow.

And before Agatha could even process what was happening… A tiny black ball of menace leapt onto the bed.

Your eyes flew open. “Oh my gods!”

Agatha froze.

You gasped, delighted, and immediately sat up, reaching for the little intruder. “My smart boy!”

Agatha’s mouth fell open.

You pushed her away.

For the cat.

Salem, looking entirely too smug, hopped into your lap and headbutted your chin, purring loudly.

You melted. “Oh, you clever little thing,” you cooed, scratching behind his ears. “You figured out the door! Mommy shut you out, didn’t she? But you got in anyway, huh?”

Agatha, still reeling, barely managed to rasp out, “I shut the door.”

You beamed at her. “He’s a genius!”

Agatha scowled. “He’s a problem.”

You weren’t even listening. You were too busy giggling as Salem flopped dramatically onto his back, rolling in your lap, fully aware that he owned you.

Agatha clenched her jaw.

No.

No, she would not allow this to happen.

She reached for you again, slipping a hand under your chin, tilting your face back toward hers. “Come on, baby,” she murmured, voice low and sultry, lips barely brushing yours. ���Focus on mommy”.

But just as your lids fluttered, just as you exhaled that soft little sigh that always made her crazy-

Salem chirped and nudged your hand.

And, horrifyingly, your attention snapped back to him, “Ohhh, I know, I know,” you cooed, cradling his tiny face. “You need some loving too, huh?”

Agatha flung herself onto her back, staring at the ceiling like she was being personally victimized by the universe.

“What about my loving?” she demanded, throwing a hand over her forehead like some tragic heroine.

You giggled. “Aggie-”

Salem, with perfect timing, rolled onto his side, stretching just enough to rest a tiny paw against your cheek.

Your heart melted. “Aw, Agatha, look-”

“No.” Agatha sat up, glaring at the kitten. “I refuse to be a secondary character in my own bed.”

You laughed, utterly charmed. “He just loves me, baby.”

Agatha crossed her arms. “I love you.”

You gave her an affectionate smile. “I know you do.”

“Then act like it.”

You giggled again, pressing a kiss to Salem’s little head.

Agatha bristled. “I swear,” she muttered, throwing herself back against the pillows again. “This is witchcraft. He’s bewitched you all.”

You rolled your eyes. “Agatha, he’s just a cat.”

Agatha sat up so fast you startled.

“No,” she said darkly, eyes narrowing at the tiny ball of fluff curled in your lap. “He’s a threat.”

~

The setting sun shone through your windows, casting golden light over the coven as they sat in a circle, discussing plans for the upcoming Summer Solstice ritual.

Agatha, seated in her usual high-backed chair, had you curled in her lap, arms wrapped possessively around your waist. For the first time in days, she finally had you all to herself, without a certain feline dictator demanding your attention.

Because this time, she had planned ahead. The door to the room was magically sealed with the strongest wards she could weave into it. No amount of scratching, meowing, or pathetic manipulation would let that tiny tyrant inside.

She smirked to herself, pleased. Finally.

“So,” Lilia said, gesturing at the books in front of them, “I was thinking we could incorporate more moonstone this year. It should help amplify the energy-”

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Agatha ignored it. You, however, perked up instantly, shifting in her lap. “Aw, Salem-”

Agatha’s grip tightened. “No.”

Lilia continued, unfazed. “- and I read somewhere that incorporating fresh lavender in the-”

A tiny, pitiful whimper sounded from the other side of the door. Alice gasped, clutching her chest. “Oh no, the baby!”

You pouted, starting to push yourself up. “Agatha, let me-”

“No,” Agatha repeated, wrapping her arms more securely around you. “Let him cry.”

Billy’s eyes widened in horror. “Agatha, what the hell?!”

You turned, brows furrowing. “Baby, he’s sad.”

“He needs to learn,” Agatha insisted. “We are not interrupting an official coven meeting just because he doesn’t like being excluded.”

Scratch. Scratch.

A heart-wrenching mewl followed.

Billy was already half-standing. “That’s it, I’m getting the little prince-”

Agatha glared, flicking her fingers in Billy’s direction. Billy was immediately shoved back into his seat with an annoyed huff.

“Sit down,” Agatha ordered. “He is not royalty.”

Billy crossed her arms. “He is to me.”

“Yeah,” Jen agreed, flipping a page in her book. “Kinda sounds like you’re being a bad mom.”

Agatha’s eye twitched. “I am not his mother.”

The scratching continued.

You squirmed again. “Aggie, please-”

Agatha huffed in exasperation. “No! You are wrapped around his tiny little paw, and if we keep giving in, he’ll just keep winning.”

Jen raised a brow. “Winning what? He’s a kitten.”

Agatha gestured at you dramatically. “He stole her from me!”

The room went silent.

Then Lilia sighed, rubbing her temples. “Oh my gods”.

Billy cackled. “You *are* losing to a kitten.”

Agatha shot him a look. “I am not losing-”

At that exact moment, Salem let out the most pitiful, heartbroken little cry any of them had ever heard.

Your eyes widened in distress. “Aggie-”

“Oh, for the love of- fine.” With a dramatic wave of her hand, Agatha finally released the spell.

The door flew open.

And in strutted Salem, tail high, eyes smug, like he knew he had just won.

Agatha gawked. “You manipulative little-”

Before she could even finish, you had already scooped Salem up into your arms, cradling him against your chest like a precious treasure.

“Ohhh, baby, I’m so sorry,” you murmured, pressing kisses to his tiny head. “Mommy was so mean to you, huh?”

Agatha’s mouth fell open.

Alice glared at her. “I can’t believe you locked him out.”

Jen snorted. “I can.”

Billy shook his head in disappointment. “Shameful behavior from our fearless leader.”

Agatha scowled as Salem gave her a very deliberate slow blink, curling up in your arms like he owned the place.

Which, apparently, he did.

She exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “This is witchcraft.”

Jen snorted. “He’s just a cat, Agatha.”

Agatha shot her a dark look. “He’s a threat.”

Billy immediately fell off his chair laughing.

[phoenixrisingastro]

𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔚𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔓𝔬𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔜𝔬𝔲: 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔄𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔬𝔤𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔨 𝔄𝔱𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫

There are lovers you forget, faces that blur into the past like whispers in the wind. And then, there are those who mark you, stain you, haunt you. The ones you can’t shake no matter how many years pass, the ones who live inside you like an unrelenting ghost.

Some people are designed to be unforgettable. Their energy lingers, their presence intoxicates, their touch leaves permanent fingerprints on your soul. These are the people who possess you—or the ones who make you crave to possess them.

So what makes someone unshakable? What makes someone a walking addiction, a fever that never breaks? Look to the stars. Because some people are just born to be worshiped… or feared.

The Placements That Make You a Living Obsession

Some people don’t just love—they devour. They don’t just leave an impression—they imprint. They pull you into a world where time doesn’t exist, where they are all you can think about, all you can crave.

If you have any of these placements, consider yourself a walking temptation—dangerous, hypnotic, inescapable.

Pluto Conjunct the Sun, Moon, Venus, or Ascendant

Pluto is raw power, magnetic dominance, the abyss you can’t escape. When it fuses with personal planets, you don’t just exist—you consume.

Pluto-Sun: Your very existence commands reverence and fear. People will try to break you, tame you, but they never will.

Pluto-Moon: Love with you is trauma-bonding. Once someone loves you, they never truly stop. You own them, even after they walk away.

Pluto-Venus: Your lovers either worship you or destroy themselves trying to have you. Even if they escape, they’ll compare everyone to you forever.

Pluto-Ascendant: The world sees you and wants more, but they don’t realize that once they get close, they’ll never leave whole.

You’re not just a lover—you’re a religion.

Venus in Scorpio or the 8th House

Venus in Scorpio is not here for a “normal” love. They don’t want surface-level connections. They want blood oaths, psychic bonds, vows spoken in whispers against bare skin.

Love with them feels like jumping off a cliff—once you fall, there’s no coming back.

They have a way of looking at you that makes you forget how to breathe.

Even if they never touch you, you’ll feel owned by them.

They don’t love lightly. They possess.

Lilith Conjunct the Sun, Moon, Venus, or Mars

Lilith is the forbidden, the untamed, the bite of desire that tastes like sin. If you have Lilith touching personal planets, you exude an energy that makes people act out of character.

Lilith-Sun: You are unapologetic in your darkness. People both despise and crave you.

Lilith-Moon: You awaken people’s deepest taboos, their secret fantasies they’ve never spoken aloud.

Lilith-Venus: Your beauty isn’t just attractive—it’s dangerous. People see you as a temptation, an obsession, a curse they can’t escape.

Lilith-Mars: People don’t just desire you—they want to conquer you. But once they get close, they realize they’re the ones under your control.

You are the unholy temptation they can’t resist.

Mars in the 8th House

Sex with you feels like a ritual, a death, a rebirth. Mars in the 8th house isn’t interested in meaningless pleasure—they want to merge, to own, to ruin and be ruined.

You pull people in without trying. Even those who swear they’ll keep their distance find themselves crawling back.

When you leave, you don’t just go—you haunt.

Lovers will remember you for a lifetime, even if they don’t understand why.

You don’t just take lovers—you consume them.

Aspects That Make You Addictive

Some synastry aspects make people feel like they’ve known each other forever. Some make them want to escape but never will. And then there are the aspects that make people willing to burn their lives down just to keep tasting you.

These are the aspects that make love feel like a spell, a hex, an inescapable fate.

Venus-Pluto Aspects (Synastry & Natal)

This is the mark of obsession, possession, destruction.

Love feels fated, intoxicating, irreversible.

Even when it’s over, it’s never over.

Someone always comes back… even if they shouldn’t.

Mars-Pluto Aspects (Synastry & Natal)

Lust at first sight? No. Lust that feels like a past-life curse.

The sex will ruin you for anyone else.

Power struggles, jealous rages, nights of passion followed by days of war.

Even after you walk away, you’ll dream about them.

Moon-Pluto Aspects (Synastry & Natal)

This is not just a connection—it’s a soul contract.

They will see the deepest parts of you, even the ones you hide.

When they touch you, you’ll feel exposed, vulnerable, like you belong to them.

No matter how far they run, they’ll always feel your energy around them.

Pluto never lets go.

Are You the Possessor or the Possessed?

You know the feeling.

You meet someone, and suddenly, they live in your thoughts rent-free. You tell yourself it’s nothing, that you can stop thinking about them whenever you want.

And then you realize—you can’t.

Maybe it’s their energy, their mystery, the way they see through you like no one else has. Maybe it’s the way they touch you—like they already own you.

Or maybe… just maybe…

You are the one who possesses.

Maybe you’re the one who lingers in their mind, the one they can’t shake, can’t leave, can’t replace.

Maybe you’re the reason they check their phone at 3 AM.

Maybe you’re the reason they stare at their ceiling at night, wondering why they can’t stop craving you.

Look at your chart.

Look at theirs.

Then ask yourself…

Are you the hunter? Or the prey?

© PhoenixRisingAstro, 2025. All rights reserved

[kkai-zen]

˖⋆࿐໋ kiss me more!

summary: the blue lock boys as types of kisses!

featuring: [separate] gn!reader x itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, shidou ryusei, oliver aiku & michael kaiser

contents: sfw! suggestive (sae, oliver, kaiser), fluff, possessive-ish rin

wc: 850

RIN…top of the head kisses.

Rin loves leaning down to kiss the top of your head, even though he’d never admit it. It makes him feel like he’s protecting you, in a way. After a game? He’ll pull you into him and place a gentle peck on your head. At home doing the dishes? He’s hugging you from behind, lips pressing into your hair. In public, with some guy staring you down? You bet he’s wrapping an arm around your waist with a scowl, glaring at the poor stranger while leaving a kiss on the side of your head. Rin doesn’t talk much, but he shows his love for you in those little kisses. (And with the amount of kisses he gives you, you can be almost sure he loves you more than anything else.)

SAE…collarbone & shoulder kisses.

Sae loves your collarbones and shoulders to the point where you can’t leave the house in off-the-shoulder tops anymore. He’ll spend every waking moment pressing kisses into your smooth skin if given the chance, and on more than one occasion you’ve been late to work because Sae drags you back into bed to nip at your collarbones. If you’re wearing a top with thin straps, Sae will walk up behind you and slip the tiny straps right off, closing his eyes as he presses sensual kisses down your shoulders and across your collarbones, and more often than not you two end up having some fun in bed afterwards. To say he’s obsessed with you would be an understatement.

NAGI…nose kisses.

Nagi spends most of his time cuddling in bed with you, and loves watching your facial expression change when he leans in to kiss the tip of your nose. He finds it cute, watching your face erupt in a blush, and decides that he likes being so close to your face. It’s all too easy for him to grab the back of your head and pull you close, and he takes advantage of the fact by peppering you with kisses before placing the final one on your nose. Cuddling with Nagi means you’ll have a giant sleepy teddy bear, and that comes with him clinging onto you and kissing the tip of your nose. 

REO…hand kisses.

Ever the gentleman, Reo loves making you feel special. Pressing a kiss onto your hand is a simple, timeless way to show love, affection, and respect—all emotions that Reo feels about you. You’re his princess, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make that obvious in everything that he does. He’ll pull your hand to his lips in the mornings when you two wake up together, in public after buying you some far too expensive jewelry, in fancy restaurants waiting for dinner to be served, on private jets to his next game. Reo wants you to feel special, because you are special. You’re the most important person in his life, after all. 

SHIDOU…french kisses.

Just like everything else about Shidou, his kisses are intense. They’re barely French kisses; it’s more like he’s eating you alive. And he’s got no shame about it, either. Whether it’s in public, private, the presence of his teammates or your friends, he’s kissing you so deeply that it renders you breathless and red-faced afterwards. Open-mouthed, all tongue, teeth clacking together harshly, Shidou kisses you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, exploring your mouth with ferocity. But other times, he’s a tease—smoothly opening your lips with his tongue, hands slipping under your clothes, making obscene slurping noises—he’s a menace in every sense of the word.

OLIVER…ear kisses.

Placing a delicate, sensual kiss on the shell of your ear is one of Oliver’s favorite things to do. He relishes in the way his presence makes goosebumps erupt over your skin, and he’s found that the best way to make that happen is to let his lips graze your ear while whispering a few sweet words. You don’t even remember what he says, only remembering the baritone of his voice, the strong n heady scent of his cologne, and his lips barely touching you. It drives you up the wall whenever he does that, and he loves watching you flush red. Oliver is a tease through and through, and the sinful way his lips feel on your ear is only proof of that.

KAISER…neck kisses.

Kaiser loves watching you squirm as he kisses your neck. The lines of your body are simply too alluring for him to resist, and your neck is one of his favorites. He loves sitting you in his lap in front of a mirror, making you watch his reflection as he trails butterfly kisses up and down your neck, leaving purple-red hickeys in his wake. You are his, and placing kisses and bite marks and hickeys all over you proves that to anyone who thinks otherwise. Sometimes, kissing your neck reminds him of his blue rose tattoo, and he can’t help but think of the similarities between you and the rose; beautiful, unique, and completely and utterly his. 

[tojisteddy]

Yes, I do think Toji is canonically forgetful.

He’s forgetting the grocery list even though you wrote it for him so he wouldn’t forget but it gets lost anyway because he forgot where he put it. He’s going through the isles and getting what seems right because he can’t remember what’s in the fridge and can’t ask you cause you’re at work.

The list was in the back of his wallet.

There are always sticky notes around the house of random notes, ‘to-do’ lists galore. He always has to do a pat down of himself before he leaves the house, ‘keys, wallet, phone’ always in that order. He’s the type who’ll remember whatever he forgot once he was right outside and he’ll circle back in the house to retrieve whatever he forgot.

He plans out dates, but doesn’t remember the time. And is always two embarrassed to ask you because it’s something he set up for you. So he’s racking his brain as he gets ready, looking through the plethora of notes left around the house until it finally clicks. He’s running to meet you, buying a bouquet of flowers at the train station and dashing like his life depends on it.

Of course he makes it. 15 minutes late, but he makes it nonetheless.

Cursing up a storm at the up tight hostess to, ‘move out my fuckin way! My spouse is in there!’ Flowers slightly crushed in his hands, a little out of breath and he takes you in, who’s got an amused look on your pretty face.

“Shit, you look good mama.”

Toji is always going ‘huuh?’ ‘who?’ ‘mmh?’ and ‘what?’ Touching the top of his temple with his fingers like it’ll help him remember. It doesn’t.

And it’s a complete surprise, when he gets home and a confetti popper goes off in his face. Both of your dogs are barking, one with a Spider-Man suit on and the other with a pink party hat, the dinner table is properly set with his favorite food, he favorite wine to match, Panic by The Smiths playing from the living room, you’re in his favorite black dress that hugs your hips and your tits look perfect. And there’s a banner with a few painted paw prints on it, an angry mark and ‘Happy Birthday Toji’ in large bold letters.

Oh, his birthday.

Was it that time of year again?

He’s forgetting your friends names, nodding like he remembers but he has no fucking clue who you’re talking about until you bring up some memory of the two of them meeting and then he’ll remember.

And of course, he’s forgotten your anniversary and birthday before. It frustrated you, so you’d go on about the night like it was nothing. A birthday dinner with friends and some with their spouses but shit, it would’ve been nice for that ass hat to be there.

But then you’d get home, setting the gifts from your friends down and kicking off your heels. But there are candles burning, those damn sticky notes are scattered on the kitchen counter, all with your name and ‘don’t forget!’ written on them. And his journal, which you’ve only seen a couple times since you’ve been with the older man, was wide open with your birthdate written at the top of the page. And multiple lists of chicken scratch filled the two pages full to the brim and you’re sure they continued to the next page. All of things the man loved about you.

From your curly hair, eating habits he found cute, your pretty tattoos, your chestnut skin glowing in the sun light, from the way you fuckin blinked your brown eyes— all of it was there.

Toji was fucked up in the head, from his past to now— life wasn’t easy on him and it showed. From the way he reacted to things, to how forgetful he was. It came from the trauma. But you made life worth living. He’d be damned if he forgot even a minuscule detail about you.

You walked to the sound of your favorite playlist coming from the backyard. The dogs were there, both adorned with party hats and they came running at the sight of you and there Toji was. Plain black shirt and black jeans, muscles flexing as he fixed some fairy lights with a party hat tilted to the side like a fuckin idiot— just how you liked it.

You looked back at the clock on the oven; 11:43 pm.

A breathless laugh came out of you. Sniffing, fanning your face as tears danced on your water line because you paid a cute penny to get your makeup done for your big day.

Toji heard you, and made his way towards you. Words couldn’t express how sorry he was but he didn’t bother saying it. He knew it wouldn’t comfort you, fixing mistakes did though.

He was trying. You knew from this birthday set up to those notes he’d leave around the house, the multiple calendars— he was really trying. And sooner than later he’d get it right because he loved you and would do anything to prove that he loved you.

He grabbed the last purple party hat that read ‘birthday girl’ and set it atop your well defined curls that was parted to one side, you’d spent an hour trying to get right. Toji took your face in his large hands, gently rubbing at your cheeks, fuckin adorable.

A kiss to your eyelids, your temple, then your pretty dark brown lined, matte lips.

“Happy birthday Doll.”

a/n: couldn’t stop listening to Everything by Kehlani while writing this. On a really bad Toji kick rn.

[bootsukki]

the first time tsukki buys you flowers, it’s almost by accident.

he’s on his way to your house after practice, passing by a small flower shop, when a bouquet of soft yellow tulips catches his eye. he has no idea why he stops to look at them—maybe it’s the way they remind him of you, always bright and warm. checking his wallet, he enters the shop and buys them.

truth be told, he doesn’t expect much of a reaction from you, you have been dating for four months and he doesn’t even know if you like flowers (he knows you’re not allergic though because you always tend to the school garden with one of your friends) and when he arrives, he just shoves them into your arms.

but, when your eyes widen in delight, your fingers tighten around the stems and you look at him like he’s just handed you the stars, he knows he’s fucked.

you cling to his arm all the afternoon, giggling every time you look at the flowers and kissing him endlessly, he feels his cheeks burning.

“I should have just brought you candy.” he mutters, pretending to be annoyed.

but he does it again. and again. and again.

sometimes, he starts picking up flowers on random days—after practice, when he sees sales on his konbini… you react the same way, eyes bright, arms thrown around him, pressing kisses to his face. he mumbles under his breath but he never pulls away from your hugs and precious kisses he cherishes so much.

he continues doing so when you go to tokyo to study and he stays in sendai. every two weeks, without fail, a bouquet arrives at your doorstep, always with a note scrawled in his familiar and neat handwriting, “try not to kill these before i visit you, pretty.”

and when he sees you again, you throw yourself at him in the middle of the train station and, like always, he lets you. because he’s missed this and you.

even after college, the flowers never stop.

the day he thinks about proposing, he goes back to your old text messages, finding your messages and pictures about every single bouquet he has given you and asks for a special bouquet filled with one of every single important bouquet he has given you, from the tulips to the roses he gave you last anniversary.

as he hands you the bouquet and goes down on one knee, you tear up and nod, hands shaking as he puts the ring on your finger and he knows he made the right choice by choosing you.

the morning of your wedding is a blur of soft laughter and excitement as you sit down on the chair to start getting your makeup and hair done.

but before they can start, yachi clears her throat, drawing your attention.

“i have something for you.”

yachi grins, stepping aside to reveal the most beautiful bouquet resting in one of the vanities.

you gasp—the bouquet is a masterpiece filled with pastel calla lillies, clemantis, veronicas and slipper orchids. you stand up, reaching out for the flowers, brushing over the beautiful petals. and then, you see your name written in his familiar handwriting in an envelope.

baby,

i’d like to say that i planned all of this from the beginning, that the first time i bought you flowers, i already knew i would be doing it for the rest of my life, but the truth is that i didn’t realize until i saw your beautiful eyes and gorgeous smile when you saw the yellow tulips.

i love your smile and i wanted to see you smile. you looked at me like i had given you the world and you held to them like you never wanted to let go.

so, i kept bringing them every chance i had. do you remember how sad you were when the wind ruined the bouquet i gave you during your last finals weeks? i got so mad and sad that i ran to the store at nearly 2 am to buy you some and get them sent to you the following day.

i am not good with words, you know that so i guess that i found everything that i wanted to say through flowers: i miss you, you’re the best thing that has happened to me, i love you, i want to spend the rest of my life with you…

i think that this one is the most special one. do you remember all those late night work i had to do? i lied, sorry.

i was getting special lessons from the florist down the street: how to prepare a bouquet, how to cut the stems perfectly so they last longer, how to take care of them… all of that so i could get you what i think it is the prettiest bouquet of all the ones i have gotten you although i don’t think they are as beautiful as you are but i have selected them because their delicate colors and smoothness makes me think of you and i don’t know, i wanted to remind you that you are always on my mind.

holy shit, you and me forever. FOREVERRRRRRRRR (if you see tear marks while you read this, those are NOT mine).

i love you baby, i’ll wait for you at the end of the aisle so, take a deep breath, wipe those tears (I know you are probably crying) and see you soon. can’t wait to make you my wife.

-kei.

you clutch the letter to your chest as tears spill freely onto your cheeks and your friends laugh softly, cleaning their own tears as well.

“is it too late to use this as my wedding bouquet?”

[headfullof-ideas]

Ahgnngh @tenebrius-excellium I’M SO GLAD YOU LOVE ITTTT!!! You and another person, i don’t remember their handle, both were so nice about the twenty minute doodles i spat out, I’m so glad you loved them!! I’m so geeked out that you caught on to Hiccup’s expressions, I thought that he would for sure not immediately be for this giant fire-breathing lizard who just so happens to be the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself just moseying up into his space. Toothless doesn’t know boundaries right now, lol, even in the forbidden friendship scene. Even in the movie! As soon as he’d been fed he just pushed himself into Hiccups space and backed him against a rock. His boundaries are firm, as in Hiccup’s not allowed to touch him, but as far as Hiccup’s space? It’s free real estate in Toothless’s eyes.

Oh no, yeah, Toothless is definitely just as observant as Hiccup. But I like to think that because he was a long range attacker, he never actually got up and close and personal with a human until Hiccup, and so only has a very basic idea of what Hiccup might need. His initial impressions probably aren’t great, Ala trying to stuff a bunch of fish down Hiccup’s throat. But like Hiccup he’d probably start going around observing Hiccup and other humans to get a better idea on how to take care of this squishy little twig of a human he’s found himself taking care of. Which in my head (and please tell me if this isn’t what you envisioned) leads to him somewhat officially partaking in the raids, but in the sense that he’s just breaking into peoples houses when their backs are turned and making off with whatever random stuff he can fit into his mouth and take off with, hoping that Hiccup knows what to do with it. It’s in their houses, surely that means that the humans need and use it often?

And that berry idea?? OH MY GOSH THAT’S HILARIOUS!! Yes, of course, I immediately scrambled to draw it. It took me a bit longer than the last one, partly because it’s a longer one, partly because i gave myself a little more time with it (still rushed, but eh), and partly because every other panel or so I had to sit and laugh my butt off for about ten minutes. The sixth panel especially had me cackling, I hope you like this!

Oi. so

Reverse Httyd where Toothless bites/rips off Hiccup's leg at the start of the movie. Hiccup then falls into the cove and is trapped there, or maybe he already was in the cove from the struggle during the dragon attack, but... he can't get out. And he is like actively dying from the blood loss, the pain, possible infection, exposure.

He hasn't got long. No one finds him, it's so deeply in the woods.

It's Toothless who has to decide to nurse Hiccup back to health/bring him back to his people, but it's Hiccup so he'll somehow still put up a fight against his deadly dragon enemy. Toothless is gonna have to earn this scrawny and injured human's trust.

[neiptune]

like real people do

cw: 2.8k wc, female reader, friends to lovers, literally black cat x labrador dynamic, you showed up one day and are still part of his life, it’s an axiom he would never expect to change. until one day you meet his brother for the first time and rin shits himself

“We should hang out tomorrow. Are you free?”.

“No”.

You frown.

“Would you have said yes, if you were?”.

Rin takes a moment to reply.

“Probably not”.

The grin you offer right away doesn’t surprise him, if anything it makes him roll his eyes with fake exasperation.

“I love how you never change”.

He nudges your shoulder with his arm, hands buried in the pockets of an expensive coat.

“You’re annoying”.

“I know, it’s my whole thing. You kinda agreed to it when you accepted me as a friend”.

“I never did such thing. You showed up one day and never left”.

Your giggle echoes across the empty street and Rin finds himself basking in your usual affection, something he’s well aware he hardly deserves.

It’s true, though. One day, back in high school, you were assigned to the same group project with two other classmates and that’s when the information of being in the same class in the first place was presented to him. You talked too much and smiled too often but when it came to doing actual work, you turned into a weirdly serious, responsible student. Instantly, too. Which would’ve been an interesting aspect of your personality, if he so much as cared.

You both ended up being the only two putting in real work to finish the project but the only thing Rin could think of was that he was relieved his perfect grades could stay perfect despite the dead weight. Except, you didn’t leave him alone ever since, apparently happy (always way too happy) to have found a new friend. He doesn’t remember how many times, throughout his high school years, he had to repeat that you two were not friends. Over and over again, the deterrent had failed miserably.

Rin has kinda made peace with your presence in his life by now, despite adulthood and your careers playing a significant role in keeping you apart, whenever he visits his hometown you’re there and whenever you happen to be where he is, you insist on seeing him. Stubborn as he’s always been, in his own mind Rin stands his ground that there’s nothing tragically wrong in allowing you to consider him your friend, still. There’s also nothing particularly dramatic in letting himself indulge in someone else’s obstinate fondness.

You’re a good person, he knows that much. Patient, generous, always the first to offer help and the last to ask for anything. You’re stupid. And gullible. Way too easy to take advantage of. It’s why he, to this day, still keeps an eye on you, walks you home in the middle of the night, doesn’t shut the door like he’d do with anyone else when you show up uninvited to his house. Sometimes he brings you something too, little mementos from his travels that hold no real meaning, despite the way your eyes shine with wonder when he begrudgingly hands them to you.

Rin knows you like him. Or at least you used to, so many years ago. He remembers hearing you confessing the secret to one of your closest friends. You never really told him, a good person but still too proud to give him the satisfaction of rejecting you, stood by his side when no one else would put up with his pissy attitude, always disregarding your feelings. Even when he had girlfriends you were there, feigning nonchalance. Stupid. He remembers how he immaturely tried to get you to admit it, shared petty details of his dates, told you he thought he was falling in love with other girls. Your smile barely faltered.

Why did you do that to yourself all that time, he still wonders. But then again he’d have to ask himself why his impatience, or rather lack of understanding, led him to kiss you when you were both visiting your families for the holidays, back from college.

Rin remembers the snow, the umbrella you were holding trying to clumsily cover him too. He remembers you were babbling some nonsense about how proud you were of him, of his career, the way you always knew he was destined to great things, his blue lock jersey still stored safely in the back of your closet. Rin remembers the way he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours, dry and chapped from the cold. Was that truly the only way to get you to shut up? He doesn’t know. He just knows he didn’t expect you to take a step back, thank him for walking you home. The kiss was never mentioned again, the following day you acted like it never happened and he was glad he could carry on without the burden of weird expectations. Well, almost completely glad.

He didn’t kiss you because he liked you or desired something as unnecessary as a relationship, he’s sure of that. He just wanted to, in that moment. A stupid whim. And if the urge of shutting you up in the softest way has possessed him multiple times after that day and throughout the years, out of mere curiosity or simple convenience, he’s never really admitted it to himself. 

You showed up one day, never left, are still part of his life. It’s an axiom he’d never expect to change. Perhaps he finds some comfort in it.

“You really can’t hang out tomorrow? ”, you’re doing that thing you always do when you’re disappointed, furrowed brows over big eyes that are rapidly losing their usual glow as you blink a few times. He sighs.

“I really can’t”.

“How long are you in town for?”.

“A few days”, he pauses for a second, then decides to concede, “we’ll have plenty of time”.

The way your lips immediately curl into a sweet smile almost makes him crack one too. Rin also loves how you never change.

“Oooh, you wanna hang out with me so bad!”.

“Shut up”.

“We’ll have plenty of time! Because I’m your best friend in the whole, entire world!”.

“Now you’re really pushing it”.

You laugh again, something tender settling over your features. He once more recognizes the affection in your gaze and has to look away.

Rin has hated October 10 for as long as he can remember.

It wasn’t always like that, as a kid it was a special day he got to celebrate his favorite person on. His brother went from being his personal hero and best friend, to a stranger he couldn’t recognize, to an adult he tries to have a decent relationship with, now. Still, October 10 is a hassle. If Sae is in town, something he tries to do for their sake, their parents always insist on having a small birthday celebration at home.

His mother spends hours decorating the living room, orders a cake so big it would require at least ten additional guests, they have so many gifts ready and wrapped by the table. For the past few years, Rin has been getting his brother a gift too. Not exactly a peace offering but the promise of getting there, perhaps.

It infuriates him that Sae still acts perfectly normal around him, never hostile, indifferent at best. They barely talk to each other but Rin doesn’t want to spend his entire life seething, he doesn’t want for one single feeling to define him anymore. So he also accepts the birthday gifts his brother sends him on September 9.

It’s just a day, he mentally repeats, it will be over soon. But he doesn’t expect the doorbell to ring, everything has already been delivered and they didn't invite anyone.

Rin certainly doesn’t expect you, standing on his doorstep with a million dollar smile and clearly hiding something behind your back.

“What are you doing here?”, he’s frozen, in disbelief. You’re not supposed to be there.

“Surprise!”, you grin, “look what I finally found!”.

You’re suddenly holding something so close to his face he has to take a moment to focus to understand what he’s looking at. It’s a horror game, one he’s looked everywhere for because they don’t sell those anymore. Rin only mentioned it once but of course you mentally took note and conducted your own, personal research. It must’ve costed you a fortune. You’re such an idiot.

“It’s not a good time”, he takes a step back, hoping you’ll get the hint and do the same. Your smile falls.

“I know. I just wanted to drop this off. Here”, you hand him the neatly packed gift. Rin takes it, then meets your gaze for a second. He wants to say something, apologize, but you’ve already turned your back to him and are quickly granting his wish of being left alone. He asks himself how much patience you have left, how close you are to abandoning him and his asshole ways for good.

“Who are you?”.

Rin freezes a second time, the voice behind him so close and oddly interested. You stop in your tracks, whip around to look at someone who isn’t him. Something hard flashes across your features but it’s quickly whisked away when you offer one of your usual, polite smiles.

“No one, I was just passing by”.

Something inside Rin cracks. No one? You can hardly ever shut up about being his friend. 

Sae hums.

“You should come in. There’s extra cake”.

When their mom catches sight of you, she also invites you in and there’s really no turning back from that. You’re too well mannered, too acquainted with his family to refuse. So you indulge them.

From the kitchen, he observes something he never thought would (or should) happen. Sae, the most infuriatingly detached, impassive person on the planet, is sitting next to you on the couch, where you’re making polite conversation. He’s listening. Rin knows he’s listening because he keeps his eyes on you, stance relaxed. Who knows what nonsense you’re rambling about this time, unfinished cake in the paper plate balanced on your knees. He says something, you chuckle. Rin focuses on his own unfinished cake, suddenly nauseous.

All these years, this is the one thing he didn’t want to happen, you meeting his brother. It’s petty and childish and Rin isn’t even quite sure why the desire to keep you from him has burned ardently this entire time but the fact that his efforts have vanished in the space of one afternoon brings a strange weariness.

By the time you excuse yourself, his parents are begging you to stay over for dinner. You refuse, thank them, thank Sae the most and wish him the happiest birthday. He dismisses your formality with the vague wave of a hand, says he hopes to meet you again. You smile sweetly.

“There’s no need”.

Rin ignores your objection similarly to how you ignored him the entire afternoon, finishes buttoning up his coat instead. He always walks you home and today will be no exception.

The silence between you two is so uncharacteristic it irritates him, to the point of affliction. Are you that upset with him? Ah, the magic must’ve finally flickered out.

“So, how was it?”, he spitefully pushes, “meeting the legendary brother”.

You keep your gaze on the street.

“It was okay”.

Rin scoffs.

“Just okay? You two really hit it off”.

“He was kind to me”.

“I’m sure he was”.

You finally stop in your tracks to look at him.

“Just because we’re friends it doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole all the time, you know”.

Rin stops too, lips parted, breath condensating into a tiny cloud by his mouth. The serious look you’re fixing him with makes his shoulders slump ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry”, he murmurs. Your gaze softens and he hates it, how easy it is for you to cut him some slack.

“Can you tell me what’s really wrong, Rin?”.

He feels like throwing up.

“Nothing is wrong”.

You hum, pensive, take the time to kick a tiny rock with the tip of your boot.

“I really think you should give yourself some grace. You deserve some peace”.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”.

“It means you’re so focused on protecting yourself from imaginary threats, you can’t see”.

“See what?”.

You offer a sad smile.

“How bright you shine”.

Rin is so taken aback he doesn’t know what to say, surprise paralyzing his entire body. He hasn’t felt like this in a while, perhaps years. It’s not fair that you have access to such a vulnerable side of him, it’s not fair that he can suddenly sense a weird lump in his throat.

“I don’t shine-”, he spits the word out, disgusted.

You’re usually very careful about his boundaries, whether they’re a hoax or not. But this time? You do something you’ve never done before, roughly take his face in your cold hands to make sure he keeps his gaze on you instead of avoiding it like a coward.

“You shine, Rin. I’m so tired of you being the only one refusing to see it. You’re the most resilient, talented, hardworking person I know. You did good. But the challenge is over, there is no war anymore, you don’t have to persist in this stubborn seclusion”, your eyes are suddenly wet, tears precariously collecting in your lash line, “you get to rest, now. Please, be proud of yourself and rest. There’s nothing to be on your guard against”.

He doesn’t remember his heart ever squeezing as painfully in his chest before, the urge to take your face in his hands making the pads of his fingers itch. He doesn’t remember the last time he came so close to let a few tears fall.

He’s gonna take you too. Just like he takes everything from me.

The thought takes his breath away for a moment. He feels your thumb gently stroke his cheek.

“You’re the legendary brother to me, anyway”, you smile, then sniffle.

Has he split himself wide open for you or are you simply that good at reading him? Rin can feel his hands shake when they fist the fabric of your plush jacket.

“Why are you telling me this?”, he can barely recognize the desperation vibrating in his own voice, “why do you even put up with me?”.

You blink a few times, astonished. Then smile again, warm and bright like the sun. Oh, he doesn’t shine, you do.

“Because I love you, obviously”.

And Rin doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to wonder what you mean. He knows. He’s known all this time.

“Why did you never tell me?”.

“Because you wouldn’t have let me do it in peace”, you chuckle, “you don’t like me like that so you wouldn’t have let me love you. As if I needed something in return. As if loving you as a friend couldn’t possibly be enough, anyway”.

His fingers are hurting from how tightly he’s still fisting the fabric of your jacket. It feels like his insides are exploding with a million different emotions and he doesn’t have nearly enough time to interpret them. But does he really need that, after all? Time. He’s known you for so long. 

“Stop putting up a fight, silly”, you let go of his face but flick his forehead, to which he grimaces, surprised, “let me love you. I’m your best friend in the whole, entire world after all! Who cares about your stupid brother? No wait, that came out mean, I just meant I care more about you than-”

Rin’s sudden embrace is suffocating, you’re pressed against him so tightly you genuinely struggle taking a single breath. You don’t remember him ever hugging you, the most noteworthy intentional contact you can recall is his arm around your shoulders when you insisted on taking a cute selfie, once. Every other hug, you had always initiated. His arms were always loose around you, cautious, despite his forehead often resting on your shoulder.

His clothes smell nice. He smells nice. You close your eyes, bask in a warmth so strange yet familiar. You don’t think you’ll ever love someone the way you love him.

“You’re so stupid”, Rin murmurs against your neck. With a smile, you nuzzle your face further into his chest.

“So I’ve been told”.

He thinks his heart might be seconds away from slamming itself free from his ribcage.

“Can you tell me again?”.

“What, that I don’t care about your brother? Sure, fuck Itoshi Sae. Oh no, that was also way too mean, don’t tell him I said-”

Rin pulls away abruptly, hands kept on your shoulders to keep you there or maybe to steady himself. You shut your mouth, don’t comment damp cheeks dusted with pink. It may be the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen him.

“Not that, you idiot”, his pitch is gentle, with a hint of amusement. One of his hands cradles your cheek, thumb gently skimming over your lips.

“I love you”, it comes out less bold now, timid. Something melts in his chest all the same.

“Will you pretend it never happened, if I kiss you now?”.

Your exhale is shaky.

“No”.

All these years and this is the first time you’re seeing Itoshi Rin truly, openly smile. The sight does something funny to your stomach.

“Good”.

[hyperfocusthusly]

Sweet things

@bucktommyfluffebruary - day two prompt ‘cooking together’

Notes: established relationship, domestic fluff, Tommy is too busy staring at his boyfriend to be an effective sous chef | Rating: G | Words: 700

[Read on A03]

——-

“Sorry I’m late!” Tommy calls through the house, “there was an accident, traffic was a nightmare.”

“That’s okay,” a familiar voice calls back. “I had to start without you.” Tommy comes into the kitchen to find Evan whisking a bowl of egg whites. “Need to keep on schedule so it has to bake and cool before we put it together.”

Tommy half remembers the 20 minute run down of why you have to let a meringue cool slowly, something to do with sudden temperature change causing cracks? In his defence he had been half asleep at the time, laid out on the sofa with Evan’s fingers carding through his hair.

Ever since Athena had assigned them the dessert portion of the menu for their barbecue this evening Evan had been spending every spare minute searching for the perfect thing to make. Several internet deep dives, three new recipe books and countless conversations later he had come to the conclusion that a pavlova would be perfect for the job.

“It’s the best of all things.” He had explained one evening, plastered against Tommy’s back while he did the washing up. “It’s crunchy and chewy, sweet but if you choose the right flavour crème, I was thinking passion fruit, then it’s not too sweet. Plus it’s light enough for after a big meal, perfect for a summer barbecue.”

Tommy comes around the kitchen island, rests his hand on Evan’s hip and presses a quick kiss to the back of his neck.

“Hope you didn’t do all of my jobs for me. I want to look Hen in the eye and tell her I helped make this thing, I’m pretty sure it’s high on her list of things she doesn’t believe are possible.”

Evan laughs,

“I need you to separate some more eggs, 3 yolks should do and then they need to go on a double boiler-” he shifts out of Tommy grasp, pulling the scales out of a nearby cupboard and measuring sugar into a bowl.

“I thought we were making meringue.”

“We’re making a pavlova, three key components; meringue, crème and fruit.”

“Oh yes of course, how could I forget the three key components.”

Evan pulls a face of mock shock at Tommy’s sarcastic tone.

“How indeed” he reaches up and taps the recipe card taped to the cupboard. “All the instructions are there if you need them.”

Tommy separates the eggs carefully, and puts them in a double boiler on the stove. He is stirring them gently when he feels Evan’s gaze boring into the side of him.

“Can I help you with something?”

Evan waggles his hand in the direction of the drawer Tommy is stood in front of.

“Can you pass me a spoon?”

“Sure.”

He digs one out and gives it to Evan, their fingers brushing over the handle. His gaze lingers on Evan for a moment too long.

“You know you have to stir those constantly right?”

“Mmm?” Truth be told, Tommy is a little less focused on the steaming bowl and more on his gorgeous boyfriend. He feels a bit lost with the way the afternoon sun is catching the lighter tones in Evan’s hair, lifting the golden tones of his skin.

Evan reaches over with the hand not currently occupied whisking egg whites and closes it over Tommy’s wrist, forcing him to stir the mixture.

“If you don’t they will scramble.”

“We can’t have that.” Tommy murmurs softly, still entranced by the way the light makes Evan’s eyes shine, picking up the different shades of blue in his eyes and making them sparkle.

Evan catches Tommy’s eyes and stops for a moment, his trademark frantic cooking energy slowing down as he looks at Tommy. He knows realistically that 24 hours is not a hugely long time to go without seeing someone but the way he feels immediately lighter under Tommy’s gaze makes him realise how much he misses him when he’s at work.

“Sorry,” he mumbles “I didn’t even say hello.”

“That’s okay baby, I know how important the structural integrity of meringues is to you.”

“You’re important to me too.”

Tommy smiles and Evan thinks he may never get tired of seeing it.

Tagging some beloveds (as always let me know if you want to be added/removed);

@leashybebes @livelaughlou @loucifersbitch @dark-alice-lilith @mmso-notlikethat @laundryandtaxesworld @bucksaiga @littlepaws9 @sad-girl-hours23 @evansbuck-ley @jamieroyjamieroy @typicalopposite

@moonydanny @teenmaximoff @bucksboobs @ohithankyou @bi-bi-buckleys @rubydaiquiri @hellion-child @aringofsalt @sweaters-and-silly @theotherbuckley @comfortingevanbuckley @epiphainie @wikiangela @bidisasterevankinard

@sunnywithachanceofbi @desert--moonchild @blitzynatural @actuallyitsellie @big-urchin-energy @fyrehose @buckleyskinards @owlgirl495 @honeyloulou @setmeatopthepyre @salty-autistic-writer @thecarrott

[tooturtly]

Still on my locked tomb and feudalism bullshit, so here’s a discussion of John, and how I think he systematically uses the decentralized nature of the Nine Houses to avoid the realities of being God.

Essentially, what it says on the tin, but first, context. (Can you tell I’m somehow more unhinged now?). Feudalism is a political structure with a fair amount of decentralization of power. It usually came about in the past after a larger government/political system collapsed, such as Rome. Essentially, a King/Emperor cannot feasibly run large amounts of territory, with the citizens of those territories being from diverse backgrounds and customs, without a lot of loyal subordinates helping out. Enter the nobility.

The nobility do the work of running the lands so that the King/Emperor doesn’t have to maintain a large bureaucracy to, let’s say, collect taxes from each individual person, hold a census, or run a court of law. This does not mean the ruler gets to fuck off, they do have responsibilities to the realm, their court, their knights, and the nobles who support them. Some people have to like you to remain in power, otherwise you get assassinated.

So what does all this have to do with John? Well, first, I think it’s safe to say from what we’ve seen that the Nine Houses are very similar to a feudalist system. You have a collection of independent, semiautonomous populations that can generally keep themselves together. They have slightly different takes on religion, loyalty to the empire, and necromancy, but they are all unified under it.

Second, I think we can also say that John has a very specific perception of himself that does not always align with the reality. He wears worn, casual clothes that are not the type of thing anyone else wears, but includes a crown of infant bones. He has a casual, relaxed attitude, but also can pull out a speech about avenging death and fighting for the empire seemingly off the top of his head. He doesn’t want Harrow to treat him like God, yet also constantly quotes works from a world nobody but he can remember. His narration of his actions in Nona paint him as seeing what he did as something anyone would do, as not that bad, as the act of a desperate, passionate man. Yet he also rebuilt the world to make himself God and Emperor above everyone else, the head of a ten thousand year long grudge campaign.

The contradiction is inherent in his title, man who became god, and god who is man. Harrow especially points out moments where he seems mortal, human, calling attention to how he otherwise appears completely separate and divine.

John is a complicated character. People smarter than me have written more with better evidence laid out. What I’m trying to get at though is that, to me, John reads as a man who cannot view himself as having vast amounts of power over others on the regular. To a certain extent he has to view himself as ‘just a little guy’ so he doesn’t have to reconcile with the actions that have caused massive amounts of harm. He wants the Lyctors to be his friends and associates, rather than their boss.

The structure of the Nine Houses helps with that. He doesn’t have to regularly speak to the average citizen, or deal with the daily problems of the people and their Houses, or hell, even the people he’s conquered. Mercymorn says something in Harrow about how the Emperor’s seat is the Mithraeum, the place light years away from the people he is supposed to allegedly rule. The place only realistically accessible by traveling through the River, a feat only possibly by Lyctors (for the most part). And we learn that he’s only been away from that for 80 years, and he assumedly spent most of his previous ten thousand years there.

Because he is at the top of the power structure, he can lose himself in the bigger picture and forget about the reality, which is the fact that he is running a colonial Empire that requires the biological death of planets and people to survive.

[arcadia-smith]

He doesn't remember you.

But.

You stay.

Of course, you stay.

Because Bucky is still here, alive in the flesh, and somewhere—deep inside him, hidden beneath the layers of fractured memories—he must know you. He must remember.

It’s just a matter of time.

That’s what Sam says. What the doctors say.

Give it time.

So you do.

Days bleed into weeks, weeks into months.

And still, you stay.

You tell him stories—soft and steady, like a balm for the ache between you. You show him pictures, snapshots of the life you once shared, the love that stitched you two together.

You speak of your first date—how his nerves made him fidget like a storm on the horizon, pacing outside your apartment for what felt like an eternity before he finally knocked, all shaky hands and warm, unsure eyes.

You tell him about that rainy night, when he kissed you under the storm, his laughter a low hum against your lips as he whispered, “This only happens in the movies.”

You tell him about you—the version of yourself that once fit perfectly against his side.

And you wait.

You wait for the spark—the brief, flickering recognition that he once knew the rhythm of your heartbeat, the warmth of your touch.

You wait for those blue eyes to soften again, to look at you the way they used to—tender, loving, yours.

But they never do.

And then, one day, after all the days, weeks, and months spent watching and hoping—

You find him in the common room, grinning at something on his phone.

Someone.

A woman.

She’s bright, beautiful—her laughter a melody you don’t recognize.

And before you even open your mouth, you know.

But still, you ask.

“Who’s that?” Your voice is light, fragile, like a leaf trembling in the wind.

He looks up, then back at the screen, that faint, soft smile still lingering.

“Her name’s Kate.”

It’s a gut-punch. The kind that steals the air from your lungs and leaves you gasping.

“Oh,” you whisper, trying to swallow the burning sorrow that claws its way up your throat. “She’s... she’s pretty.”

He grins—wide, unbothered, as though this is just another casual conversation, nothing more.

“Yeah. I think I might ask her out.”

And in that moment, everything inside you fractures.

Not just the silence between the two of you, but the world itself.

Because Bucky doesn’t remember you.

No. Worse.

He’s moving on.

Without you.

And you can’t stop it.

You can’t tear through his shattered mind and fix what they took from him.

You can’t scream, You love me. You chose me. We were supposed to have forever.

You can’t do a single thing.

So you smile.

You nod.

You pretend that you’re not being swallowed whole by the hollow ache inside you.

And that night, when the house falls silent and empty, you don’t leave the porch light on.

Because Bucky isn’t coming back.

He already has.

And he’s not yours anymore.

You leave.

You have to.

Because staying, watching him laugh with someone else—someone new, someone with a love untouched by the scars of time—it would be like breathing in glass shards. It would tear through you, piece by piece, until nothing remained. You would cease to exist.

So you gather your things in silence, each item a memory you can’t afford to carry anymore.

You say goodbye to Sam, but there is no promise in your words. No hope. Just the hollow echo of a love you can’t save. You don’t tell Bucky. What would be the point? He’s already gone. The man you once knew is somewhere behind the locked door of his memories, and there is no key.

You leave.

And time doesn’t care.

It moves on, cruel and indifferent. Days stretch into weeks, weeks bleed into months, and the seasons change in ways that mean nothing. You rebuild, slowly. The edges of your broken heart are sealed with the soft, fragile thread of survival. You learn to exist without him. You learn to wake up without him beside you, without his breath against your neck, without the weight of his love settling around you like a warm blanket. You learn to live with the dull ache, the phantom throb in the places where he used to be.

But there are moments.

There are mornings when your fingers twitch toward the space where he should be, when your heart stutters, trapped in a fleeting memory, a touch, a whisper. And you wonder, just for a second, if he’s still there—if you’re still there. But then, the thought fades. Because he’s not yours. Not anymore.

And then—

Then you get the call.

Sam's voice is a tightrope, fraying at the edges.

"I need you to come back."

You hesitate, your breath a jagged thing. You don’t want to. You can’t go back to that place, to those ghosts. The last time you left, you left your soul in the hollow of his chest, and it never returned.

But Sam's voice cracks in a way that makes your insides twist. And you can’t ignore it. Not this time.

So you go.

And when you step into the room, you’re not ready for it. You’re never ready.

Sam stands in the doorway, his face pale and drawn, like he hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten. His hands tremble at his sides, and there’s something in his eyes that says everything you don’t want to hear.

"It’s happening again."

At first, the words make no sense.

And then, they do.

Because Bucky is in the med bay, his body tethered to the bed, his arms thrashing against the restraints. His breath comes in ragged gasps, the panic clear in every movement. His eyes are wide, full of something deep—something more terrible than fear.

You run to him, despite everything, despite the emptiness he left behind. You run because he is still your Bucky, the man you loved with everything you had. You run because that’s all you’ve ever known how to do.

“Bucky,” you whisper, your voice a breathless plea. Your hand reaches for his, but he pulls away like your touch is a thing that burns.

And then—

He says your name.

And the world stops.

The earth cracks beneath you, and you feel yourself falling into a place where nothing makes sense. The thing you wanted most, the thing you prayed for, is here. He remembers. He remembers you.

But when you look into his eyes, it’s not relief that fills them. It’s horror.

“No,” he gasps, shaking his head violently, as if to shake you away, to shake this away. His words tear from him in broken sobs. “No, no, no—please—”

“Bucky, it’s okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you thought you could carry. But it’s not okay. It will never be okay.

His chest heaves. His body jerks, as though the memories are too much to hold, too much to be.

“What did I do?” he chokes.

And that is when you understand.

He remembers you. Yes, he does. He remembers everything.

But he also remembers her.

The woman he found after you, the woman he learned to love after he’d forgotten the taste of you. The woman who is out there, somewhere, still holding his heart, still waiting for him with arms wide open.

And he loves her. He loves her the way he loved you. But in a different way. In a way that isn’t stained with time and loss and the weight of your name.

And now—

Now he has both.

Now he has the knowledge of what he lost. Now he knows exactly what he did.

And in his eyes, you see the depth of his grief. The depth of his guilt. Because he remembers her. And he remembers choosing her.

And then—then he remembers forgetting you.

And that—

That is the part that will ruin you. Because it’s not just your heart breaking anymore.

It’s his, too.

And there is nothing either of you can do. No mending, no fixing, no magic words to erase the damage.

So you press your trembling hand to his cheek. You kiss his forehead, and for a brief, fleeting moment, it’s like you’re right back there—like nothing changed. Like the world hasn’t fallen apart in slow motion.

And you whisper to him, to the man you thought you could save:

“It’s okay. I’ll go.”

And you do.

You leave.

For the last time.

Because this time, he remembers you. But it doesn’t matter.

Because he’s not yours.

And he never will be again.

And that—that—is the worst part.

Because you lost him once, but now, you’ve lost him twice.

And the pain? The pain is deeper than anything you’ve ever felt.

It’s not just a heart breaking.

It’s a soul shattering.

[autumn-sweet-fae]

Jayvik + CaitVi Arranged Marriage Royalty au concept

But, Viktor isn’t the one Jayce is engaged to.

Piltover is ruled over by a council of family houses

While Zaun has One royal family that looks out for their people and keeps the Barons in line.

The council proposed arranged marriage, declaring it a wonderful way to reforge their once severed bond, as equals. And yet, the offer is for Jayce Talis, the 24 year old head of the lesser house Talis, to marry Violet, the newly 18 year old eldest princess and heir to the thrown of Zaun.

After the proposal King Vander has to talk his husband King Silco down from declaring war for the obvious fucking slight.

To offer such a minor house as the groom-to-be to their daughter and heir, as if the kingdom of Zaun is little more than a vassal state for them to exploit yet again. They did not fight and sacrifice so much for their sovereignty to be given such disrespect.

But there are trade relations to remember, and livelyhoods of their people to protect, so they begrudgingly accept the proposal after some serious haggling.

They demand for Jayce Talis to be who travels out to Zaun, instead of the suggested insulting idea of Violet going to Piltover, and for there to be an official courting period where princess Vi holds the right to cut off the engagement at the months end if she so chooses.

The council agrees and promptly ship Jayce Talis off to Zaun by the days end.

The expediency of his quick arrival does raises a few eyebrows as well as suspicion,

As it should… because had Zaun not agreed to the proposal, Jayce Talis would have instead been exiled for his crimes of attempting to create magic.

His trial had been a secret, as all house related trials are. His mothers pleas for mercy to not have her boy banished to some far off continent had been what had given the counselors the idea to use him instead as their political pawn.

But, if he fails to secure this engagement by the months end, then both he and his mother will be stripped of their house statues and banished.

So Jayce, force to surrender his life’s work in hextech (save for a single notebook he managed to hide), is escorted across the river to Zaun to woo a princess he has never met before. He doesn’t even get to say goodbye to his mother or his only friend Caitlyn.

Meanwhile, Viktor, respected inventor and tutor to the royal children of Zaun, (and the unofficial fifth adopted sibling if you asked those children) gets a front row seat to the explosive fallout from Vi learning about the engagement.

It’s obvious to everyone who knows her that she will absolutely be rejecting the proposal to this man the second she that can. But the fact that she has to court this Piltie pretty boy for entire month?? And he’s arriving TODAY???

How Viktor got roped into being the one to welcome Jayce to Zaun, he’ll never know.

Once Viktor believes his stalled long enough for Vi to agree to the charade, he brings the him to properly meet her. Jayce and Vi’s introduction and pre planned first date would be so fucking awkward and even hostile a first.

Jayce would be spiraling because he can tell how much she hates him and it’s becoming clearer and clearer the more he get to know her that there is NO CHANCE she’ll feel anything for him beyond friendship at best by the months end.

He’s set up for failure, there’s nothing he can do here to save his mother from His mistakes…

In a rush to excuse himself, his secreted notes gets left behind. Vi finds them and mistakes the scientific and mathematic notes to be something of Viktors so returns it to him.

Viktor is enthralled by the research he finds, surprised to discover this clearly belongs to Jayce (who signs every page of his notes). He simply must find Jayce to ask him about what this all means.

Viktor does not expect to find Jayce attempting to step over the railing of his fourth floor balcony.

Much like in Arcane, Viktor talks Jayce down off the ledge, inspiring him not give up and to continue his passion for science. Jayce opens up to Viktor, telling him the true reason he was chosen for the betrothal. How he was the expendable would-be exile with ideas too dangerous for Piltover.

“But not too dangerous for Zaun.” Viktor tells him

With those words the two dive into his research together, spending days in Viktors lab to recreate Jayce’s lost equipment before they’re finally able to test their theories.

Meanwhile, Vi cannot say she’s disappointed to be stood up for another of her and Jayce’s scheduled ‘dates’, but she is curious as to what the hell he’s up to. Not enough to investigate herself, no, she’s much happier running around Zaun with her siblings and checking in on her people.

Until she finds a young Piltie enforcer trying and failing to not draw attention to herself.

The enforcer, Caitlyn, informs Vi that she’s currently investigating a sensitive case regarding the relations between Piltover and Zaun and request Vi direct her to where she might fine a contact to the royal family house hold, if not Jayce Talis himself.

Vi, deeply amused by this topsider who clearly has no idea who she is, decides to spend the day giving her the run around for her own entertainment and to get more info from her.

Now, the truth of Jayce’s situation is incredibly dangerous for anyone to know. Offering a member of a lesser house for a princess heir’s hand in marriage is bad enough, but a criminal exile?? The uproar, the unrest, what were the counselors even thinking?? A sentiment that had been privately discussed between Caitlyn and the young counselor Mel Medarda. Mel had hoped talking with you younger Kiramman might give her insight on her mother’s ideals as well as Jayce’s character due to their friendship. Instead she inspired the young woman to take up the investigation personally.

Over the plot, Vi and Caitlyn grow closer to each other. The ladies both unaware of each others true statues as the Princess of Zaun and the High Counselors daughter of the Great House Kiramman.

Meanwhile Jayce and Viktor fully realize hextech and discuss the possibilities for it in Zaun, while also trying to figure out what to do about the engagement and how to save Jayce’s mother.

My plot ideas fizzle out here, however there is still the idea of Piltover still pushing for the engagement and throwing an ultra fancy ball to celebrate the desired couple’s official announcement once the courting period ends.

Everyone is invited, the councilors, heads of houses, the Zaun royalty and barons. All waiting in anticipation for Princess Vi’s arrival on the arm of her betrothed beau Jayce Talis.

Only for Vi to appear at her own engagement party with her betrothed beauty Caitlyn Kiramman on her arm. To Caitlyn’s mother’s horror and Vi’s fathers’ delight.

All this providing ample distraction for Jayce and Viktor to smuggle Ximena Talis out the back and into a carriage headed for Zaun. Viktor making sure to act as the perfect gentlemen to his future mother-in-law.

[lucysarah-c]

Hiiiii, I like your writing!

What do you think is Levi's go-to comfortable wear

Sorry, I had this ask sitting in my inbox, and I’m skipping the line to reply to this one because I just HAD TO.

Thank you so much for this ask.

SWEATPANTS AND A BAGGY SHIRT. Ugh, sorry, I needed to get that off my chest. I'll explain in depth now.

I think Levi is in his uniform like 24/7, so in the rare moments he actually has time to take that damn thing off and rest… he doesn’t just want to be comfy—HE WANTS TO BE BAGGY. Those uniforms are TIGHT, and if you lived through the “skinny jeans era,” you know the first thing you wanted to do when you got home was take them off and throw on something loose.

But here’s the thing—Levi is THICK for a short guy. So the pants that are loose on him are also long, and he hates when they drag on the floor or need to be folded. That’s why he’d go for joggers, grey ones, with elastic cuffs. And once again, a baggy shirt. He doesn’t want ANYTHING clinging to his frame. If he’s in the mood, or if the weather calls for it—not even a shirt. Just sweatpants on, happy trail on display.

He wears slippers. I fully believe Levi is the kind of person who would tell you that walking around barefoot will give you a cold. And no matter how many times Hange explains that’s not how it works, he will insist.

Now, hehe, here’s the part I really wanted to talk about… This man… when he’s in his damn chambers or his house on a free day or after hours—sweatpants on, baggy shirt, maybe a cardigan if it’s chilly. And—listen to me—no underwear. No boxers. No briefs. No. Nothing tight, remember? He’s letting it hang loose, no issues with it.

“You gotta let them breathe from time to time,” he’d say. And yeah, the bulge with no boxers on? Very noticeable. Sometimes, he’s scratching his belly or stretching, and the sweatpants are hanging low on his hips… and you can see. You can tell. It’s just a matter of hooking one finger under the waistband and pulling down for the whole reveal. He doesn’t care. Maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing, because what’s a free day—what’s the joy of not wearing the uniform—without a good little lazy fuck?

Anyway… I adored this ask. I haven't had this much fun in a while.

Have a lovely day!

[ourloveisforthelovely]

Why Orion doesn't babysit...(

Regulus Black AU

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader

Summary: There are reasons Orion doesn't babysit.

Rating :T

______

“That was a nice dinner, Reg. I’m glad that you agreed to speak to me again.”

Sirius said with a grin as he closed the door behind him. After not speaking to each other in years, Regulus had finally approached Sirius about making up. Sirius knew that it was no easy feat for Regulus either. For Regulus Black to apologize about anything was about as rare as seeing a unicorn.

Something told Sirius that you were partially behind the apology too. After you gave birth to Regulus’ son, you had been trying to gently nudge Regulus in the direction of speaking to his brother again. You had been the one to approach Siruis after Walburga died. Apparently both Regulus and Orion were debating on if they should have went along with Walburga or not. It took maybe two months and Regulus turned up at Sirius’ door.

“You’re welcome. Please don’t push your luck.”

Regulus commented as Orion got up from the couch. He was happy to be talking to Sirius again too (even if he wouldn’t say it). There were still somethings that Regulus wasn’t totally comfortable with. You sat down next to Remus on the couch.

“You lot are back earlier than I thought.”

Regulus nodded, glancing around for Oliver. It wasn’t often that Regulus asked Orion to watch his grandson and he was about to remember why.

“Yes, our reservation was moved up. Where is Oliver?”

Orion glanced over his shoulder. Oliver had been one good little boy. He reminded Orion so much of Regulus as a child. It was like seeing the little star of the family all over again.

“I think he went to the lavatory. He’s a good kid. I only had to spank him the one time.”

A dead silence quickly overtook the room. Both Regulus and yourself turned to Orion with a frown while Sirius muttered “oh fuck” under his breath. You turned to your father-in-law speaking before Regulus lost his shit.

“Orion, you shouldn’t have done that.”

Orion shrugged.

“My shoulder is fine.”

Regulus rubbed a hand over his face before counting to ten.

“Father, we never spank Oliver! What were you thinking.”

Orion sat back down.

“No wonder he looked so surprised.”

Regulus started to get loud right away. You gently put a hand on his chest hoping to calm him down.

“Orion, what happened?”

“I told him to clean his toys up. He said make me so I did.”

Regulus growled. This was the last thing that he wanted to deal with. After growing up in a house where he was hit on the regular basis the last thing that he wanted was for Oliver to grow up that way. Normally all it took was for Regulus to give Oliver a glare and the little boy was doing exactly what was asked of him.

“Father, again we do not spank our son. Haven’t you learned from the way that Sirius and I were raised that spanking a kid doesn’t do any good? We don’t want Oliver to be afraid of us.”

““Alright, Regulus you made your point.”

Orion rolled his eyes and moved to take a sip of his tea. He got up and walked over to the coat closet. Halfway through putting on his coat, Orion turned to look at you. You hadn’t said much since a few moments before. Orion wasn’t a fool either. He knew that you were not about to push Regulus when he was angry. No one wanted to deal with that.

“Y/n, dear, may I ask you a question?”

You nodded as Regulus walked over to Sirius muttering something in French. Sirius elbowed his brother to pay attention to what their father was saying. While things with Orion had gotten better, Sirius still didn’t exactly trust his father 100%.

“Does Regulus pick up his socks?”

“Yes.”

You replied. Orion held his hand up before opening the door.

“You’re welcome.”

When Orion was gone, Regulus turnede to look at you before shaking hs hand. Running a hand through his hair, Regulus went off in search of something stronger to drink.

“Never again! That crazy old man is not watching our son again! I am about to put dad in a home.”

Sirius and Remus were looking at each other with wide eyes. Chuckling, Sirius turned to look at you.

“Regulus used to hate picking up his socks. Dad let it go for a little bit. When Mum finally bitched about it enough, Dad unfortunalty let Regulus have it.”

Regulus came back into the room with Oliver behin him.

“Sit down.”

Regulus said calmly. Oliver sat down on the couch looking up with Regulus with a smile.

“What did I do?”

Regulus knelt down in front of his son with a sigh.

“Why did you say make me to grandpa when he told you to clean up your toys?”

Oliver shrugged.

“I thought it would make him laugh and he didn’t.”

Regulus nodded as you moved to sit on your son’s other side. You gently stroked Oliver’s hair out of his eyes.

“Oliver, I believe you know that when you are told to do something, you are supposed to do it.”

Regulus nodded in agreement.

“Sorry, son, but grandpa doesn’t find anything funny. Your mum is right, though. When you are told to do something, you need to do it. Now go upstairs and get ready for bed.”

Oliver nodded, sticking his bottom lip out before going upstairs. You gave Regulus a look that said, “do not be a pushover.”

Regulus shook his head before standing up and going back to his drink. Sirius elbowed Remus in the side before turning back to his brother.

“Hey, Regulus. Pick up your socks.”

____

@millies0bsimp @geeksareunique @jessyballet @knreidy1 @fific7 @teletubiswszpilkach @spideyxalmighty @dumbbunnys-safes @dumybitch @readtomeregulus @lucasfilms77 @rogue-nyx88 @marichromatic @i-love-scott-mccall @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @s-we-e-t-t-ea @iluvthe-marauders @woohoney @saramaple @missgorldafirst @stelleduarte @gugggu6gvai @jag9000 @bennyberry @f4iryluvy @panpride @haroldpotterson @mentally-unstable-hoe @goldensunshineshit @ravenhood2792 @playmore-zeppelin @authoressskr @knight-of-gleefulness @ell0ra-br3kk3r @livshifts @ad-astra-again @regulusblackswhorecrux @kindestofkings @criminalyetminimal @rubes-xoxo @padf00ts-l0ver @regulus-black-223048

[skzdelf]

Now That We Dont Talk | Hwang Hyunjin

⭑ PAIRING: Hwang Hyujin x fem!reader

⭑ CONTENT: angst; ex-boyfriend!hyunjin uni au (based in taylor swift lyrics from the song “now that we don’t talk”)

⭑ SYNOPSIS: After a sudden breakup, university life goes on, but Hyunjin and you start to realize that distancing yourselves doesn’t always mean letting go of your feelings.

⭑ WORDCOUNT: 1,1k (1145)

I had to let him go, to move on with my life even if it hurt, even if it was hard to let go after everything we’d been through together.

After all, we don’t talk anymore.

But going on as if nothing had happened was difficult, especially with our friend groups being so interconnected. Anywhere I went, I ran the risk of seeing him, and it would be impossible not to remember everything.

The night before, there had been a party at the frat house—a party I chose not to attend. To my friends, I didn’t go because I had a headache, but the truth was I was scared of running into him, of facing him and not knowing how to react.

I heard from everybody the next day that Hyunjin had gone to the party. People parted as he walked by, as if he were splitting the Red Sea.

Had he been anxious to see if I’d show up?

Did he wonder why I wasn’t there?

Did he worry about me on his way home?

I guess those are questions I’ll never know the answers to—because we don’t talk anymore.

They said your hair was longer, shinier, and wavier than ever. You presented a whole new, radiant image of yourself. From the outside, it seemed like you were moving on, as if nothing had happened.

I was so glad I didn’t see you.

I miss everything about you. I miss our old routines, I miss the old you, our sweet nicknames, and our late-night outings. You didn’t have to change.

But I have no way of telling you any of that—nothing would come out of my mouth. I’d just stand there, speechless, like a statue about to crumble. But it doesn’t matter, because we don’t talk anymore.

The day we broke up, I called my mom. She said it was for the best. My tears wouldn’t stop falling; I didn’t want to let you go.

But I kept giving you more of myself, and it felt like you wanted me less. I don’t know if my feelings started to overwhelm you, but I no longer felt reciprocated, loved.

Everything reminds me of you—every song, every hallway in the university where we walked hand in hand. Every corner seemed to hold a piece of the story we once were.

I was walking, staring at the floor of the deserted university hallways, lost in thoughts of what we could have been, when I bumped into someone heading the opposite way.

To keep me from falling, the other person grabbed my arm, pulling me close to their warm, comforting chest.

“S-sorry, I wasn’t looking…” The words hung in the air as I looked up to see my “savior.”

It was true, everything they said about you—you looked so handsome. Your hair now brushed your shoulders, your features were serious, but you were glowing like never before. In front of me stood a Hyunjin I hadn’t seen look this dazzling since our first months together.

“Don’t worry, Y/N. Are you alright?” he responded, his dark eyes locked onto mine. How could he hold my gaze after everything?

If I kept looking at him, if he kept touching me, I might melt right there in the hallway, so I pulled away from his grip, fixing my gaze on the lockers to my right.

“Yeah, thanks,” I replied shortly, dryly—a response I’d never imagined giving him, not when we were friends, let alone when we were together.

But no matter how much he wanted it, I couldn’t be his friend, and now I was paying the price for what I’d lost, despite holding onto it with all I had.

The many wounds on my heart wouldn’t let me be his friend.

“Please, look at me,” he said in a choked tone, releasing a sigh, almost like a lament, as if he regretted everything that had happened to bring us to this moment.

Would you tell your friends you were begging me just to look at you?

I looked him over from head to toe. On his finger, he still wore the rose-shaped ring I’d once given him.

Looking at his face again, his new look, new piercings in his ears—still as attractive as ever, but farther away than ever.

I couldn’t pretend this was platonic anymore because we were simply over—there was nothing left.

“I don’t like us being like this. I really wish we could be friends,” he said, giving me a closed-lip smile that I couldn’t return.

I couldn’t be his friend because friends aren’t supposed to have feelings for each other. Friends wouldn’t want to be near you all the time, to tell you how happy their heart feels just when you smile at them, touch them.

Tears of sadness welled in my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to try to make them disappear as quickly as possible. I didn’t want him to see me like this after only two weeks of being apart.

“I-I have to go, Hyunjin. I’m s-sorry.” I fled from that hallway, with his voice echoing my name in every corner, asking me to stop.

I had to remind myself of the way you drifted away until I left, until my heart couldn’t take your cold attitude anymore, until there was nothing left to break.

And it infuriated me to still love you after you tore me apart until I was ashes you then wanted to mold into a friendship.

I can’t be your friend, I won’t be your friend. I’m paying the price of losing you, of losing my heart, and how hard it is to stay standing now that you’re not by my side, now that we don’t talk.

It’s true that I no longer need to pretend to like the things you used to enjoy. But I have to admit, acid rock is a part of me now because of you.

I know I’ll become the strong girl you once knew again—a girl with a heart full of love to give, a girl who never expected such indifference from someone who once promised to give her the moon.

I guess maybe I’m better off now that we don’t talk.

The only path to regain my dignity became a mystery, wrapped up like you were when you pursued me.

When you chased me out of love, and when you chased me today in the deserted hallway, begging for friendship because you still wanted me in your life somehow.

It’s a mystery to me what Hyunjin felt or wanted from me after I left, because I could no longer read him like before. But I guess things have to be this way, now that we don’t talk.

Nowadays that I ignore your presence around me, now that I’ve blocked your number, now that at least I can look you in the eyes.

A/N: dividers are not mine!!