#the melancholy would still hit the same

[pleaseshutupaboutsatou]

Christmas time Tanaka

[honeyncherry]

when all else fails - joe burrow

summary some men send flowers after they mess up. others buy jewelry. joe? he prefers to taste your forgiveness directly from the source

content 18+, smut, angst, fluff

Somewhere between the last coat of mascara and checking your dress in the mirror, you felt it—that small, dread-filled certainty that tonight wasn't going to unfold as planned. Not because of anything obvious.

His voice sounded normal on the phone. "I'm trying, baby, I swear. Everything is running late, but I'm pushing to leave early." And you accepted his words, because that's what you always do. You've made a habit of hope.

The rain set the mood, persistent and melancholy—lazy droplets crawling down windows, blurring the world outside like your expectations for the evening.

It seemed almost cruel now. He was the one who'd brought it up three weeks ago, sprawled across your bed, his phone in hand and your feet in his lap. "I made reservations for the 26th—same place as last year. Figured we'd keep the tradition going." You'd looked up, surprised, and he'd smiled at your expression. "You think I'd forget our anniversary?"

He hadn't forgotten. The calendar on the fridge was marked. His phone reminder had gone off yesterday. You'd even set a second one, just to be annoying. He'd laughed, kissed your shoulder, and promised, "I'm not missing it."

Even this morning he seemed certain, backpack slung over one shoulder, lips pressed against the top of your head. "I'll be home by seven," he'd said, squeezing your hand.

And you trusted him completely.

By six, you were dressed in that black dress he loved, the one he once said you shouldn't wear in public. You'd left your hair half-down, clipped just enough to show the necklace he gave you last Christmas. Dabbed on the perfume he never remembers the name of but always notices—the one from your first night together, sitting on the floor eating takeout in the dark, too nervous to touch each other until midnight.

You dropped your heels by the couch, leaving them untouched.

Joe always said the clasps were easier if he did them, but you knew better. He liked being close, kneeling before you with your leg draped over his thigh, fingers brushing your ankle as he pretended to fumble with the strap. Sometimes he'd lean in and kiss just above the bone like it meant nothing. Sometimes his hand would slide higher. Always slow, always with that look in his eyes.

So you waited.

You poured wine you didn't touch. Lit the candle by the door just to occupy your hands. The ticking clock over the fridge sounded louder than usual, so you tapped fingers against the table edge to drown it out. Your phone sat untouched for the first hour, then became an obsession as the minutes crawled by—every glance at the screen a small wound.

He said he'd be home by seven. Said he wouldn't let the meeting run over. That he was pushing to leave early. There's still some stubborn part of you that thinks wanting to be there should count for something.

But seven turned to eight.

At 8:14, your phone lit up. I'm so sorry. Still going. Not gonna make it in time.

You stared at the message with a hollow resignation. It would have been easier if anger came. If you could throw something. Scream. Say I knew it just to feel vindicated. But there was nothing left to say. Your reflection in the screen hit harder—lips pressed tight, eyes already glassy, posture curled in as if you'd been anticipating this moment.

Because perhaps you were. You wondered if he tried—truly tried—or if he just hoped you'd understand. If he counted on your forgiveness the way he counts on your presence. Always there.

It's not the first time. That's what cuts deepest: how familiar disappointment feels now.

You flipped your phone over, screen down on the counter, and went to the bedroom. The dress slipped off and pooled at your feet. You stepped out of it and folded the fabric carefully, placing it over the back of the chair. Not because the night could still be salvaged, but because leaving it crumpled would feel like admitting it never mattered.

You skipped his LSU crewneck, didn't touch the hoodie he'd left draped over the laundry basket. You grabbed one of your own instead, one that smelled like fresh detergent with no trace of him on it. It felt right tonight.

With the sleeves rolled at the wrist, you pulled on cotton shorts that sat low on your hips and asked for no attention you didn't want.

Back in the kitchen, the kettle hummed low as it warmed. You went to make the tea he always made for you—just a dash of sugar, half a spoonful of honey. But at the last second, you left them both out, letting it steep bitter and plain. Something about doing it differently tonight felt like control. Like maybe if you changed one thing, something else would change too.

The mug warmed your hands as steam curled into your face. You crossed to the chair by the window, half-lit by the porch light, outlined by the storm. One leg tucked beneath you, the other draped along the cushion as you settled in. The tea rested on the windowsill, untouched. You didn't like it this way. You hated it.

Rain streaked the glass in steady lines. The backyard vanished behind the storm. Everything felt quieter now, like the world was backing away, giving you space to feel however you needed to.

And you did. Emotions churned for however long it took the sky to blacken, until lightning became the only true light flashing across the walls. Under-cabinet bulbs in the kitchen still glowed softly, but here in the corner, it all felt distant. Your head leaned back against the cushion as you watched the rain blur streetlights into smears of gold. You didn't even hear the door at first.

Not until it closed with a muted click, careful, like whoever stood behind it didn't want to be heard. A shuffle followed. Keys into the tray. The soft thud of a bag hitting the floor. No voice. Just footsteps. Slow. Uncertain. Like even he wasn't sure he should be there.

The air shifted, and you knew he was there. Somewhere behind you, just inside the living room. Close enough to see you, too far to reach. He probably had his hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his heels. Nervous in a way you'd seen before.

"…Honey?"

Quiet steps cross the floor. You stay facing forward, but the faint rustle of fabric against the back of the couch tells you he's closer. Then silence.

In the reflection of the window, you catch a glimpse. Clothes damp, hair wet and falling in loose strands across his forehead. He stands motionless for a moment, hands shifting from his sides to his pockets, then back out again.

Eventually, he edges closer. His fingers brush the arm of your chair, a silent test. When you don't pull away, he bends and presses a kiss to the top of your head. Warm breath stirs your hair and then he draws back, sinking to his knees.

Crouched before you, one hand steadies on your thigh, the other reaches up and grazes your arm before falling away. His gaze meets yours, but his expression gives nothing away.

"I tried to leave early," he says, thumb tapping gently against your knee. "Swear I did."

You remain still.

"They pushed it," he adds after a pause. "Wasn't supposed to go past six."

His forehead lowers to your legs, lips brushing your skin in apology.

"I'm sorry, baby." The words are muffled. "I'll make it up to you."

He lingers there longer than he should. Long enough for your fingers to twitch. Long enough for you to wonder if reaching for him would make this hurt any less. Before you find out, he lifts his head. His attention shifts to the windowsill, where your mug sits. He picks it up, takes a sip—and immediately winces.

"…Jesus." You almost smile. Almost. The expression flickers at your mouth before you stop it.

"Let me make you a new one," he offers, already half-rising.

Your hand snaps out, claiming the mug and setting it firmly back on the sill.

"No."

Brows draw together. "No, what?"

"I don't want a new one," you say. "I like it that way."

He stares for a second, elbow balanced on his knee. "Hm… Well, you look really pretty right now," he says quietly. "Like… really pretty."

Rather than answer, you give a small shake of your head, as if the words don't feel right now.

Joe sighs, chin tipping upward. "I'll book the flight tonight."

There's a faint crease between your brows, though you don't look over.

"To Milan," he clarifies, his voice chasing the silence. "That place you liked—the one with the garlic butter scallops and the owner who gave you that little spoon you tried to steal."

Your lips press together, but you don't speak.

"No schedule, no work calls," he says quickly. "Just us. Boats, museums, room service. That flower market where you bought an entire bundle and forgot to water them—done."

At last, your gaze lifts to his. He leans forward slightly. "I'll get the spoon engraved if you want. Swear to God."

There's the faintest twitch in your cheek. "Joe—"

"I'm serious." His voice tightens with urgency. "I'll do better. I'll plan things you actually like. Not just dinners to patch things up. Not just big gestures that don't fix anything."

You sit there, eyes on the rain, heart beating somewhere too deep to reach, letting his words press down into the silence. The promises. The guilt. The hope threaded between them. It crosses your mind how badly you want that version of him to be the one who shows up. The one who stays.

And just as your thoughts start to drift, something warm grazes the inside of your knee.

You flinch from surprise. Joe kisses again, a little higher. Then again, slower this time, wetter. Open-mouthed, the heat of his tongue just barely grazes across your skin. Your pulse stutters. When your eyes drop to him, he's already looking up at you from beneath his lashes, hunger darkening his eyes to something almost dangerous.

His hands are warm and steady on your thighs, thumbs brushing idle circles as he coaxes your legs open. His lips drag higher. You feel the scratch of his stubble catch on sensitive skin, feel his breath between each kiss growing hotter, more charged. The earthy scent of his cologne mixed with sweat rises between you, familiar and intoxicating.

"This okay, baby?" he asks, voice low and raw. There's something vulnerable flickering behind his eyes—a glimpse of fear that he's truly fucked up, that you might not forgive him this time.

The answer to his question isn't spoken out loud. Your lips part, eyes dazed, a stunned kind of arousal flickering behind your lashes as your legs begin to uncross. One knee bumps gently into his chest as you shift, and he leans back a bit to make room. But his hands never leave you. If anything, they tighten, fingers curling firm into the meat of your thighs, grounding you with a focused intent.

Without breaking contact, his hands begin to slide higher. He catches your waistband and starts peeling your shorts down with the care of someone handling something fragile, something sacred. And when he sees there's nothing underneath—just bare skin and flushed heat—his breath catches like a punch to the gut. A sharp, involuntary grunt breaks from his chest.

"Jesus... fuck."

The tension ropes through his jaw, knuckles flexing where they grip your legs. His eyes drag down, dark and locked in like he's trying not to lose it. Every muscle in your body tightens with anticipation, the delicious torture of knowing exactly what's coming but being forced to wait for it.

"You know how they get," you murmur, voice thinner than you expect. "You act like you didn't see it coming."

"I know." His response is instant. No protest, no excuse. His gaze never lifts. "That's on me."

And then his hands drift in, up the insides of your thighs. Barely there at first. Just the whisper of skin to skin, fingertips ghosting in slow, lazy arcs that never quite give you what you need—only make you feel every second he's choosing not to.

"I should've put my foot down," he says, and his voice drops further, like it's carved straight from guilt and want. "Should've walked out at six like I said I would."

You shift again. Your hips tilt forward without thought, chasing his hands, the pressure, anything—but he doesn't budge. Joe smirks, soaking in the way you tremble under the weight of waiting.

"Tell me you need this," he murmurs against your inner thigh, the vibration of his voice sending shivers through you. "Tell me you need me."

Your breath catches in your throat. The words feel too vulnerable, too revealing, but your body betrays you completely—arching toward him, seeking his touch.

"Because that's what matters," he says, and this time his fingers brush closer—so close you feel the stroke of air shift between you. Just a ghost of contact across the edge of you. It makes your whole body jolt.

He holds you steady with one palm, wide and possessive against your thigh. "You," he says again, quieter this time. "Not them. Not the meeting. Not whatever bullshit I told myself so I could sit in that room feeling sorry and still do nothing."

And then, finally, he leans in.

There's no buildup or teasing cruelty. Just that moment: his mouth, hot and unrelenting, sealing over you like he's starved for it.

You gasp as the heat of his tongue drags up through your center. His arms hook tight under your thighs, locking you down with a low grunt, and then he's gone completely silent. Like he's concentrating. Worshipping. Devouring.

The first full stroke of his tongue is slow but purposeful. The kind that maps you out. That relearns every inch of you like it's the only thing he's good at. He pulls back just long enough to press a kiss against your clit—soft, obscene—and then does it again, firmer this time. Open-mouthed. Messy. The sounds echo in the quiet, wet and slick and unashamed.

He groans into you when you twitch. You feel it reverberate through your whole body.

"Yeah," he mutters, more to himself than to you, dragging his mouth across you again with a low, stunned sound. "Could never let this pussy go."

One of your hands fly up, trembling as it slips beneath the hem of your sweatshirt—seeking something, anything to ground yourself. Your palm finds your breast and you squeeze, letting out a breathless gasp at the new sensation.

Joe sees it, he feels the way you react.

His hand jerks up and slips beneath your sweatshirt, finding yours already there. He covers it completely, fingers wrapping over the back of your hand with purpose. He squeezes hard, guiding your grip tighter around yourself, and holds it there—his thumb pressing into the soft underside of your breast, adding more pressure whenever he deems necessary. Like he's deciding how much you get to feel. Like you touching yourself isn't allowed unless he's in control of that too.

The contact makes your spine arch, your thighs clamp tighter around his head, and his tongue only presses even deeper.

You think he's going to keep going on like that, all tongue and heat and slow torment, but then his hand adjusts, fingers sliding between your legs, two of them pressing in deep with a firm, practiced curl that makes your hips jerk up.

"Oh my God—" You gasp, nails clawing for purchase, catching his hair instead. He grunts again when you do, like the sting of it only spurs him on.

His fingers fuck up into you with rhythm, curling just right, just relentless enough to make your vision start to haze. All the while, his mouth never leaves you—tongue flicking and dragging and rolling with that desperate kind of hunger, like this is the only way he knows how to apologize. Like he's trying to leave the memory of everything else behind in the way he makes you fall apart.

He pulls back just when you're at the edge, making you whimper with frustration, your body arching desperately toward his mouth. You can feel him smile against your inner thigh, the bastard, before he dives back in with renewed intensity.

"You're shaking," he breathes against you, voice low and fucked-out and proud. "Look at you. All worked up already. How long were you waiting for me to get my shit together, huh?"

You can't answer. Can't breathe properly. Your thighs are trembling around his shoulders, back arched, fingers knotted tight in his hair. He smiles—so fucking smug, and sucks hard around your clit until your whole body clamps down on his hand and you swear you black out for a second.

Joe doesn't let up, he holds you through it. Works you through every wave until you're whining, twitching, trying to squirm away. Each time, his grip tightens and he keeps going like he's savoring the aftermath.

His mouth eventually stills, he presses one last kiss to your clit before easing his fingers out—wet, glistening, dragging slow between your folds. You shudder when they leave you. You watch closely as he lifts his hand to his mouth and drags his tongue up the length of them with one slow, filthy lick. Then another. Then his mouth closes around both, sucking them clean like he's chasing the last drop of something holy.

"Fuckin' perfect," he rasps as he pushes off the floor. His chest is heaving, mouth flushed, the same hand still wet when it curls under your jaw. His other hand wraps around the back of your neck as he leans in, thumb pressing into the hollow of your throat, just enough pressure to make your pulse jump against his skin.

The sound that slips out isn't intentional, it just slips out the second his mouth finds yours. The kiss hits like a punch to the chest, knocks the breath right out of you. You grip his biceps without thinking, fingers digging into muscle like it's the only thing keeping you from floating up and out of your own body. He's still holding your jaw, thumb tight along your cheek, guiding the angle, kissing you deeper, slower, like he's pulling every last sound from your throat on purpose.

And he tastes like you.

You feel it every time his tongue drags over yours, the echo of your own release coating his mouth. It makes your spine arch. Your knees fall open wider without thought like your body's still begging for more.

Joe groans into your mouth, his hand sliding back under your sweatshirt—skimming up your ribs, settling firm to hold you there. You're panting by the time he pulls back. He kisses you again—once. Twice. Quick little pecks that make your lips chase after his before you even realize you're doing it.

"All night," his lips brush yours like the words aren't finished yet. "Not stopping 'til you forget where I even fucked up in the first place."

Your hands drift up his chest, fingers splayed wide as they press into the front of his shirt. The cotton shifts beneath your touch, stretching over the heat of him—solid muscle and steady breath rising to meet you.

He huffs a quiet laugh to himself, eyes on your mouth. "And after," he grins, "I'll make you some tea you'll actually like."

[apricot-blossomss]

↬ apollo being scared of losing you as he lost all his mortal lovers

↬ hurt/comfort with a fluffy ending, warnings: fear of losing someone, mentions of sex, mentions of nightmares

he was almost too beautiful to bear in his sleep. running a gentle finger over the soft skin of his cheek, you couldn't help but be reminded of the renaissance painting figures, just as frail and untouchable. it made you sad, though you couldn't have named a specific reason for the sudden wave of melancholy that hit you. your hand travelled from his face to his neck, over his shoulders and brushed against his muscular back, but your eyes were still fixed on his face. on the golden locks that gently swayed in the light breeze, the huffing from his pink lips, his long lashes. what did gods dream about? what did your god dream about?

it was only after a few minutes that you found the strength to look away from your lover. as quietly as you could, you slipped out from under the thin covers. there was no need for heavy blankets when you could trust there would always be summer at your residence and you had your own personal heater laying next to you in bed. when your bare feet met the floor, you allowed yourself one quick look back at apollo. the sudden wish to draw him, his sleeping face, his ethereal youthfulness, his incomprehensible beauty and the sun kissed golden locks overcame you. but at the same time, you knew you would never be up to the task. no one would ever be.

you rose from the bed and tip-toed over to the closet to grab a dress to cover your naked body with. the slight wobble in your step served as a reminder of the night before and you felt heat creep up to your face merely thinking about it. you got dressed quickly and hurried out of the bedroom. normally, it was apollo who would be up first, already greeting you with a delicious breakfast and good morning kisses, ignoring your objections because of morning breath. now that you were up first for once, you decided to return the favor.

apollo had added a kitchen to his palace, just for his mortal lover. as a god, he was able to produce foods from his bare hands and ambrosia was always available to him. you being into cooking and baking had been new to him, but he happily indulged in your hobby and supported it, even by altering his own home.

as the kitchen was illuminated by the golden lights of dawn, you got to work to prepare pancakes. stirring the dough, you let your mind wander, and inevitably, it lead you back to last night. the touches of his hands, the kisses, and most importantly, the whispered promises and desperate pleas spoken in the heat of the moment. to have a god worship you like this was possibly the best thing to ever happen to your self-confidence.

just as you were preparing the stove, two warm arms closed in around you like a trap and your defenseless body was pulled back into a warm chest. after a second of panic, you recognized the smell, the breathing pattern, the touch of apollo whose strong arms had you in a tight embrace. with a shuddering breath, the god lowered his face to your neck where you could feel him breathe in your scent. entirely engulfed by his warmth, his taller figure, you had no choice but to pause what you were doing and let him consume you completely.

but immediately, you sensed that something was off. maybe it was instinct, maybe the god and you were connected on a whole other level by now, maybe it was the way his breath shuddered and heaved slightly, the way his fingers curled into your sides a little too much for your comfort. after a failed attempt of turning around to face him apollo didn't even seem to take notice of, you called out his name softly and brought a gentle hand to his face that was still buried in your neck. "love?"

begrudgingly, it seemed, apollo raised his head from your neck and allowed you to turn around in his arms. a tight smile pulled at his lips, but it was missing the radiant shining of his usual ones. he more so seemed like he was in pain and you frowned. "apollo-"

"hm, is my little wife making breakfast for me?" he asked with a forced cheerfulness. apollo loved to call you his wife, even though you weren't married since he was a god and you a mortal. the smile still didn't reach his eyes and your frown deepened. as if he could lie to you. sensing your unease, apollo leaned over comically dramatic to dip his finger into the dough. you knew it was a diversion, and he knew that you knew when you didn't even try to stop him.

"apollo, what's wrong?"

"nothing's wrong, silly," he smiled, unnervingly so, still missing the usual sparkle in his golden eyes. "or is there?" gentle, strong arms spun you back around until you were facing your dough and his head dipped once more. there was no way to suppress the goosebumps spreading over your skin when his lips brushed barely along your ear, like a breath, like a memory. "do you have an ache i can tend to my love? how about ... here?" his fingers hovered over your crotch, tips brushing against the fabric of your dress and he smirked at you mischievously like a cat cornering a mouse.

"you can't distract me with sex, my love," you said softly but with a stern undertone. taking a step back and folding your arms over your chest, you took him in completely. golden locks disheveled from slumber, chest bare and decorated with your marks and only a loincloth hiding his crotch. "what's wrong?" you asked again with a pleading tone to your voice. "talk to me, please"

a flash of pain crossed his beautiful eyes and it was such a heart wrenching sight, though just visible for a millisecond, that it knocked the breath from your lungs. "i'm fine," he whispered, but his eyes were fixed at a spot just above your brow. the answer did little to convince you, as it missed the usual extravaganza and poetry and beauty that filled every single one of the phrases that escaped the god of poetry's mouth.

almost tearing up seeing him in distress, you took a step towards him and closed your smaller fingers, still a little stuck with pancake dough, around his spotless, bigger hands. they did their best trying to warm him up. "please," you begged. "let me help you, my love"

"i'm fine," he repeated and lowered his head. you gasped in shock when he fell to his knees on the ground, still holding onto your hands. "you're fine"

now, you weren't that dense and at his words, you immediately sensed what was wrong. bringing your hands from his hands that immediately latched onto your thighs in a desperate need to ground himself, to his face to lift it up. you gave him a gentle smile. "yes, i am. very much alive and very much still human instead of vegetation"

the god let out a dry, heartbroken laugh and now the pain was on full display, twisted his beautiful features and your insides as a dull ache. his eyes wandered over your face, as if in an effort to engrave it into his memory. "you mortals are so fragile. like painted glass in a chapel. pretty, divine, easy to break, and your colors paint me, too, and your shards, they hurt me, make me bleed" his grip on your thighs tightened. "love..."

for a while, there you stood, still and composed like a marble statue. the god at your feet, holding onto your plush thighs, and you hovering over him, trying to breathe from the pain you felt when your love was hurting. "i'm sorry," you finally breathed. neither your brain nor your tongue, that were this flawed compared to your artist, could think of the fitting words, reassurances. "i never meant to- i'm sorry i- and for everyone you lost-"

"you," he whispered and you had to lower your hand a little so your flawed mortal ears could make out the words. seeming close to tears, he angled his head up to expose his eternal pain to you. "i dreamt that i lost you." his hands twitched and he held onto your thighs more tightly. "woke up and you weren't there and for a moment i knew... i just knew you would be gone too, and it would be my fault."

your fingers cradled his face as you tried to remain calm and steady for him. but gods, it was hard when seeing him like this broke your heart as well, pinched your heartstrings painfully and you had to fight the stinging in your eyes. "do you dream about that often?" you asked him softly as your fingertips grazed his cheekbones in an attempt to offer comfort.

"sometimes," he whispered.

never had you seen a god cry. apollos tears had a golden hue to them, like a river at sunset, and you couldn't help it, your vision got blurry as well. you wanted to be strong for him, you really did, but you weren't able to bear this. "forgive me, my love," apollos wept softly and even now, it still was like a melody. "forgive me"

"there is nothing to forgive, darling," you reminded him and crouched down to his level to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. "i'm okay. i'm here. and i don't intend to go anywhere anytime soon." a shaky breath, a silenced sob and he returned the embrace, engulfing your body fully. his arms had you in a tight lock, a desperate plea to keep your promise.

for a while, you just sat there on the kitchen floor. breakfast was long forgotten and, embracing each other, you watched the sun's light illuminate the room more with each passing minute. apollo's tears dried up eventually and his fingers began stroking your hair and kneading the plush of your thigh tenderly. after pressing a few kisses to your scalp, he was the first to break the silence. "would you believe me if i told you you are the best thing that ever happened to me?"

"i would find that a little hard to believe, you have lived for over a millennia after all," you smiled and his fingers drummed against your skin in response.

a thoughtful hum rumbled in his chest and his fingers played with the hem of your dress. "looks like i have to make a song to prove my point, then." there was a shift in his tone. this tone, a subtle show of his godly might, had a shiver run down your spine. "not just to you. it will be a composition so great it will stun all of olympus. a tune that will make my father himself melt. a song in exchange for your immortality, my love"

a surprised little gasp left your throat and you looked up from his chest to meet his eyes. they were determined and oh so full of love when he looked down at you, still caged in his arms. the topic of immortality had rarely come up between the two of you, and though you knew you would gladly spent the rest of your life with apollo, you didn't know wether he wanted to commit to you for eternity. too stunned to speak and not able to grasp any of the boiling feelings rumbling inside of you, you could only wrap your arms around his middle once more and hide your face in his chest as you felt the heat creep up your cheeks.

"darling, why are you hiding from me?" you could hear the grin in his teasing voice and begrudgingly looked up at him. finally, your god was smiling again, as radiant as the sun he was. "hm, you do realize i just proposed, don't you?" he asked as he tilted your chin upwards with his index finger.

"are you sure?" you blurted out and he frowned. "sure? of course I'm sure. are you not, lovely? because we can wait. i have time. until you are ready, yeah?"

"i am ready," you insisted, meeting his gaze with the same determination. "it's just... are you sure you want to keep me around for eternity?"

"keep you around?," he repeated and chuckled. seconds later, you found yourself sitting on the counter with the god standing in between your legs, his hands on your waist. "my love, my sunshine, every day for the rest of our immortal lives, i will worship you. i will forever praise the day you let me into your life, never take you for granted. i will always stay true to you and if i should ever wrong you, you may pierce me with my own arrows and throw me into the depths of tartarus."

"Now that's a marriage proposal," you joked to mask your flustered state. "How can I say no to that?" there was a sudden fire burning in his eyes, one that you knew all too well and you had the suspicion that you wouldn't get to finish the pancakes anytime soon.

"it's a yes then?"

[aventurineswife]

hi so I got a question for your sahsrau painter au how would welt or the rest of the express react if the reader painted welt's past for instance when he was still in the hi3 universe

In the SAHSRAU Painter!Reader AU, if the reader—perhaps in a moment of melancholy or emotional overwhelm—painted something they shouldn’t know, like Welt’s past from the HI3 universe, it would hit everyone on the Astral Express like a silent bomb.

Welt

At first, he’s just… still. Silent in a way that makes everyone glance at him, unsure if they should speak. Because this painting—it’s not vague. It’s deeply specific. Maybe it’s of Einstein or Tesla, maybe it shows him standing in front of a burning world, or looking out at the moon that never made it back.

His hands would tremble, just a little. Not out of fear—but out of memory.

“This… this isn’t from your world, is it?” he asks, his voice low, stunned.

He’d kneel by the painting, inspecting every brushstroke like it was evidence from a case long gone cold. There’s a ghost of a smile, and a sadness so deep it could drown someone else.

“No one here knows this part of me. Not even Himeko.”

And then he looks at you (aka breaking the 4th wall), like you’re something holy and terrifying all at once.

“How did you see this?”

The Rest of the Astral Express

Himeko would glance between you and Welt with quiet awe. She's a scientist, sure—but this? This is beyond her realm. Her hand might rest gently on Welt’s shoulder, wordlessly supporting him while quietly being floored by your insight.

March 7th would be more vocal: “Wait—this isn’t a made-up scene?? This is something Mr. Yang actually lived through?”

She’d be confused, a little scared, but also fascinated. Like she’s watching something ancient come back to life.

Dan Heng would watch you with sharper eyes after that. Not suspicious—just... careful. The quiet respect would be deeper now. He’d understand the burden of remembering.

Trailblazer would ask the question everyone’s too scared to: “If you can paint the past… can you paint the future?”

After that, they won’t look at your art the same.

They’ll start wondering:

What else do you know?

Where do your visions come from?

Are they glimpses into other lives? Or do you remember things you shouldn’t?

Welt, especially, would start sitting with you more often while you paint. He wouldn’t always speak—but the weight of his presence would say everything.

“You remind me of someone,” he says one day. “Someone who carried the weight of the world on her back… and still had the strength to create.”

[burdenandacrop]

˗ˏˋ ❝ fickle flame. ❞ ˎˊ˗

submission from 🎂 ! loosely based on the song 'never there' by CAKE ! i love this band so much so the fact i'm writing my second fic based on one of their songs ... consider my autistic brain pleased.

summary : you're busy to say the least, and with that fact; comes along schlatt who is aching for even a minute of your time. scrapping for pieces of you, saying things he probably shouldn't, and yearning incredulously without shame.

⋮ ⌗ ┆established relationship, masturbation, fem reader, he is just really pitiful in this one. like extremely.

the night only seemed to grow colder, not in the sense of temperature though. just with how melancholy was filling into schlatt's mind by the minute, laying on his bed and struck with the annoying sensation that kept coming over him. he missed you terribly, but every single day it was 'i have a meeting', 'overtime', or 'i have an event i have to go to.' never an instance where you could crawl into his arms, something that wished so desperately for. he knows you say you love him, that you'd take the time to show him too. it just felt like a lie to him, he could only deal with so many short calls. dry text messages laced with boredom, as he analyzed every little word that you wrote. wondering, is this where it was going wrong? was he the problem? could he just be incredibly clingy and childish about this matter? was he obsessive? no common sense seemed to hit him though.

it was an absolute bore to work every day and when you were off, having to sport yourself for these extravagant events and doll yourself up to please the company and the guests. hell, you were at one right now. your fingers ready to press so hard into the champagne glass that it shattered. not worth it to make a scene though, just have to stand awkwardly in your dress as the overworked violinist played. they really got to pay that guy more. you sigh and look up to the ceiling, wondering if there was any sort of release from this hell. then suddenly, you feel a vibration from your purse. looking around to see if your boss was anywhere to be found before you just pull out your phone, thankfully he wasn't. you scour through your purse and pull out your phone. seeing a notifications from schlatt.

schlatt ♥︎ : Are you still there?

you sighed as you read it, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you pondered on what to say. part of the experience of being in a such corporate position, meant you practically had no time to yourself. no time to even tend to a relationship, which did make you feel guilty at times. part of you even wanted to call off the relationship due to the clashing schedules, but you knew you could never do that to him. he had been getting progressively worse with his clingy nature, but in a sense, it was warranted.

you : yeah, stuck here til midnight.

you could see how he immediately read it, the little bubbles going across his incoming text message. you had a worrying feeling that your text was only going to upset him further, but you had to tell him. his bubbles kept going away and then coming back, an endless cycle of clearing out his texts and trying again. eventually after a minute, he finally texted back.

schlatt ♥︎ : Come over after?

schlatt ♥︎ : Please?

you sighed at his texts, knowing damn well you didn't feel like making the drive to his house so late. you just didn't want to say it in such a mean manner, you knew you'd be seen as a bitch anyway you put it. there's still a sense in trying.

you : it's like a 30 min drive baby.

he stared at the text and felt his body become so much heavier, falling against the covers once again. it was this same conversation, over and over. his insistence on getting you to get closer, but alas; it seemed to always fail. no matter how hard he tried to explain how badly he wanted you. how he would lay countless nights staring up at his ceiling wishing the warmness on his chest from his cats was you. he felt like such a big baby, on how terribly he was attached to the slight bit of your attention. like a dog looking in from the sliding glass doors begging it's owners to let it in as he watched the owner laugh and enjoy everything. he was so happy that you were successful, how you could go these luxurious events where money wasn't an issue, but he had a deep sense of want. just wishing he could just keep you to himself.

you : [ image attached ]

he felt his chest get hotter as he eyed the photo, he hated how beautiful you looked in it. how your sequin dress shined from the lights, how utterly delicious you looked in the warm dull light. he couldn't stop his eyes from lingering on how low the neckline went down on your dress. everyone got to see you like that. except him. just the sheer thought of how everyone could just gawk at your body, see in person just how delightful your face was. he almost wanted to reach into the screen, just so he could feel your soft skin. it just wasn't fair.

schlatt ♥︎ : Beautiful.

he knew if he said anymore, that wouldn't be appropriate to be reading in such a setting. rest assured, if he could; he'd be writing novels on how he wanted to bask in your presence and how terribly he ached to do so. you softly grinned at his text message, it was short but sweet. you could tell he was hiding something of a sort, but you honestly didn't have the time to indulge into it. instead, just sending another picture of yourself. one with a higher angle, showing off a better look of the dress with a wide smile painted on your face. maybe that would ease some of his sorrows.

he let out an audible groan when he saw the picture, clicking on it to get a clearer view. zooming into your face, shaking his head as he took in just how gorgeous you looked. it was so unfair, so cruel. chewing on his bottom lip in frustration before zooming down to the dress, god your curves in it. he could even see the little crease between your stomach and your thighs. unbashfully, one of his favorite parts of your body. as he continued to look at every detail of the picture, he could feel his sweats getting progressively tighter. closing his eyes and sighing as he realized, great. that's exactly what he needed on a night like this. looking down to his waistband and pulling up the edge of his sweats to look at how quickly he got excited. what was it about you?

schlatt ♥︎ : I don't have anything appropriate to say.

you softly giggled as you read the message, shaking your head and pondering on what your next course of action should be. your thumbs clicking on the keyboard to type away another message, biting down on your tongue with the excitement growing in your stomach. right before you could hit send, you heard the gruff voice of your boss speak, "[y/n], our guests." he sighed out. making you immediately shut off your phone and stuff it back into your purse with a fabricated smile. relieved when your boss just nodded and went back to talking with other colleagues.

he saw how you left him on read, only making him yearn for you more. sighing as he looked back to the tent you created in his sweats, guess there was only one thing he could do. he looked back to the text wall between the two of you, looking at the picture of you once again. groaning as he clicked on it again, his gaze transfixed on how your eyes looked. awfully cruel to send a picture of you when your eyes were obviously bedroom eyes, maybe just to tease him. it had to be that. his eyes trailing back down to the deep v neck of your dress, begging to see what it looked like underneath. wondering if you were wearing a matching set, what color was it, was it laced? he knew his internal monologue was making him sound like a loser, but he needed it. he slowly moved his hand under his waistband as he kept his eyes on the photo, whimpering softly as he grasped his hands around his shaft.

his breathing hitching as he kept his eyes on how your curves looked, his hand going up and down as he imagined it being yours instead. thinking back to the past nights where you would ride him until he felt like passing out, his eyes fluttering open as he tried to keep his eyes focused on the photo. he could feel every wave of heat traveling up and down his stomach, his head flailing back as he kept his pacing. god he wished you could just come over tonight. instead of being at that stupid event. looking so gorgeous and showing off to everyone except him. a thought rose in his head, he was already in the process of losing his mind so why not add a little bit more to the fire. he began typing with his right hand, which wasn't helping with his focus.

schlatt ♥︎ : Youre nvere there

schlatt ♥︎ : Rhe things Id do if you were here

schlatt ♥︎ : Fuck just plehase comeb over

schlatt ♥︎ : I will literally pay for uour uber right now

as you were walking to the bar, smiling at your colleagues as you passed them. you kept feeling the buzzing in your purse, the sinking feeling hitting your chest as you knew deep down it was him. you chose to ignore them for now, in hopes that your boss would mingle somewhere not visible to you. you groaned and made your way to the bar finally, tipping your head as you grabbed another glass of champagne. smiling at the bartender before turning around and taking a sharp sip of it. you needed this desperately right now, you obviously didn't want to be plastered but you needed a little something to take the edge off.

schlatt ♥︎ : Send your address i am prdering the iber right now

schlatt ♥︎ : Its onnthe way .please

the insistent buzzing in your purse was racking against your brain more and more. you sighed before looking around to see if your boss was anywhere to be seen, sadly he was right in the corner. you groan and stomp your way over to the bathroom, trying to not look pissed as you walked. you looked left and right to find the bathroom doors, growing more irritated as the crowd of people seemed to thicken. a few colleagues waving at you, causing you to lose your timing and make small talk. biting the bullet and smiling as you approached them to talk, but you had to make it short. you absolutely needed to.

schlatt ♥︎ : Its tenminutes away baby ppease answer

schlatt ♥︎ : Im tired of waitijg fornyou i need you

schlatt ♥︎ : Im fuckijg aching overbhere

you nodded and played along with your colleagues opening chat, twirling around your glass of champagne with a smile. you tried your best to keep your poker face as you could keep feeling the buzzes in your purse. the worry settling into your system further, what the hell could be happening? you knew you should've just set it on silent and called it a night. you smoothly pull yourself out of the conversation and wave goodbye to the group, dipping into the dim lit hallway aching to find the damn bathroom. it had to be here somewhere, then thankfully you could see it at the end of the hall. the doors practically beckoning you. you basically sprint to the bathroom and check to see if anyone was around to see you. thankfully not. you pull yourself into the bathroom and let out a much needed sigh. finally being able to pull out your phone from your purse and your screen showing nine unread messages. all of which were from schlatt. your eyes widen as you read all of them, seeing the mention of an uber. and right as you were about to type back, try to protest in any way.

schlatt ♥︎ : It's there waiting

fuck. you tapped your heels against the floor, leaning against the wall to think of whatever you could do. you couldn't just tell him to cancel it. then again, wasn't that the right answer? you couldn't just leave this event. or could you? maybe this is what you needed, some adrenaline filled experience aside from your boring busy pallet. you sigh and look back to the screen, wondering on what the hell you were supposed to do.

you : ok im walking out now

schlatt ♥︎ : God I love you

you sigh with a smile as you stuff away your phone back into your purse, walking out of the bathroom and eyeing the exit doors. shaking your head as you looked back to the crowd, thinking to yourself if this was a smart decision.

oh, who gives a shit.

author's note : TEEHEE. i loved this request so bad. i apologize if you didn't want it to be lemon-y, i will make up for that with the next CAKE fic you requested anon <3 i just hope you enjoyed :> 🎂

[sincerelyyycece]

i'm letting go.

Y/N finally had enough of being James’s backburner

note: modern au, this is a part 2 of my “hey, are u still there? …good.” fic, inspired by niki’s song again but this time it’s “oceans and engines.”

tags: @dearmy-diary @moonteaxw @xcinnamonmalfoyx @box-of-kinderjoy @hisparentsgallerryy @alittlebirdswhisper @chi-ara (i can't seem to tag the last two accounts.)

sincerelyyycece © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

A symphony of heartbroken tears and quiet, mournful sniffles echoed throughout the room, rebounding off the cold, stark walls and filling the silence with their melancholy. "Here we go again," she mused to herself, a bitter chuckle escaping her lips as the painful reality of her situation hit her once more. Her gaze, heavy with unshed tears and the burden of heartbreak, fixed on the seemingly innocent photo of James and Lily, both ignorant of the emotional turmoil their image was causing.

As she studied their smiling faces, her heart, already fragile and wounded, sank even deeper into the abyss of disappointment. The realization that she had been cruelly sidelined for Lily once more was a blow she had not anticipated, a betrayal that echoed in the silent room. She could almost hear the sound of her heart shattering, each piece a testament to her unrequited love for James.

A nauseating wave of regret and self-reproach washed over her, threatening to drown her in its relentless current. As she pondered her own naivety, she wondered how she had allowed herself to fall into this trap.

What had she expected?

Did she truly believe that this time, against all odds, he would choose her?

How foolish she felt, how incredibly naïve she was for ever believing him!

Her eyes narrowed at James's enthusiastic grin, a stark reminder of the shared moments and whispered promises. She remembered how he had once smiled at her in the exact same way, his eyes twinkling with mischief and unspoken promises. How easily she had fallen for that smile, and how bitterly she regretted it now.

With a deep, shaky breath, she forced herself to look away from the picture, her hand moving to wipe away the stray tears that had begun to fall. She knew what she needed to do, as much as it hurt her. She had to let go. She had to let go of James, of her love for him, and of the hope she'd been foolishly clinging to.

She gazed at her phone, James's number illuminating the screen. Another shaky breath escaped her lips as she summoned the courage to press the call button. The room filled with the familiar sound of ringing as she anxiously awaited his response, her hands trembling with nerves. Thoughts raced through her mind as she contemplated the words she intended to speak to him.

Suddenly, a voice broke the silence, uttering a soft "Hello?" Her breath caught at the sound, her heart skipping a beat. Faint music played in the background as he called out her name, "Y/N." She swiftly composed herself, resisting the urge to melt at the sound of his voice. "Are you there, Angel?" he inquired, his tone gentle. Her throat felt parched as she struggled to form words, her mind urging her to speak, yet her voice failed her.

Frustration washed over her as she sensed the distant sounds of music and chatter, indicating his movement to another location. "Y/N, did you accidentally call me?" he teased, chuckling lightly. "Hey," she finally managed to utter. "Hey Angel, what's going on?" he responded, his voice tender. She blinks rapidly, searching for a way to conclude the conversation.

But then a familiar female voice interrupted from the other end, urging James to return inside for another round. Though faint, she recognized it immediately. James's affectionate response indicated his reluctance to end their conversation. Internally, she sighed, realizing it was time to let go. No more clinging to hope, no more waiting on the sidelines for him. It was time to move on.

She'd had enough; her heart was tired of playing second fiddle to Lily. She was tired of being the one he turned to when he was bored or lonely—the one who was there to fill his empty moments. "James," she started hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I think we should stop seeing each other." There was silence on the other end of the line, and for a moment, she thought he had hung up. "What?" he finally asked, sounding utterly shocked. "Why?”

"I'm tired, James," she admitted, her voice wavering as she spoke. "I'm tired of waiting for you, of being your second choice. I deserve better than this. I deserve to be someone's first choice, not their backup plan." There was a pause as she took a deep breath, gathering her courage before adding, "I'm letting go.”

"But, Y/N," James started desperately, but she cut him off. "No, James. It's over. Goodbye." With that, she ended the call, her heart aching as she did so. Up until that moment, she had hoped that things might change and that James might come to see her as more than just a friend, more than just a backup plan. But it was clear now that that was never going to happen. She had to let him go, for her own sake.

It was a painful decision, but she knew it was the right one. She deserved to be more than someone's second choice. She deserved to be loved and cherished as much as she loved and cherished others. And maybe one day she will find that person. But for now, it was time for her to focus on herself. It was time to heal and move forward. It was time to let go.

[cherryrikis]

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL - 007 ! a statement

PAIRING idols riki x fem reader

SYNOPSIS fans always point out the chemistry between you and riki, and it only continues to grow after you become mc’s together on music bank. but as your feelings rise, so does the tension. and people begin to notice, so you try not to let riki know how you feel. but unbeknownst to you, he feels entirely the same way.

authors note i was out all day to the point i almost forgot ab this smau ngl. + in honor of my fav @/hannicorpse bc she turns 18 today!!

previous <> masterlist <> next

“y/n? its rinnie. lets go out. you havent gotten out of bed in days. its not the end of the world. ill take you to a nice cafe.” haerin said as she knocked on the bedroom door.

“dude, too soon. no cafes.” you heard danielle mutter as she lightly hit haerin’s shoulder.

“y/n, its dani. please come out?”

hesitantly, you got up slowly and unlocked the door. behind it, revealed danielle, haerin, hyein, and minji, all holding essential items they knew would comfort you. ice cream, tissue, ramen, all sorts of stuff.

“oh, poor yn..” hyein pouted with sympathy as she pulled you into her arms. she wasn’t wrong, poor you. your eyes were puffy and red from crying, on top of your heavy eye bags due to the lack of sleep.

“y/n? someone’s here to see you.” hanni informed as she came up the stairs.

your stomach dropped to the floor. you felt your heart pounding out your chest, it almost came out your mouth.

“tell him to leave.” you scoffed, turning to go back into your room.

“it’s not him.” minji cut you off as she pulled your arm to turn you around.

slowly, the five girls moved out the way to reveal jungwon and jake, standing at the bottom of the staircase. “hey y/n.” jake politely waved.

“we’ll give you some time.” minji and danielle nodded as they took the others into the second bedroom.

“i know what you’re thinking. and before you say anything, riki didn’t deny it by choice. if it was up to him, the whole world would have already known how much he loves you. but the manager insisted it was this way. even bang pd wanted your word for the article, yet they just wanted to leave you out of it.” jake spoke slowly to you as jungwon wiped away your dry tears with a wet tissue.

“where is he right now?” you whispered. you were almost unsure if they could hear you or not.

“still locked in his room. you two are in the same boat right now. he’s just like you, he refused to leave his bed.” jungwon chuckled as he attempted to lighten the mood. “we talked to the manager this morning, and last week after the scandal first came out. but there’s nothing we could do.”

“thank you for trying. i had no idea. i just, i really can’t face him right now.” you sighed, rubbing your forehead in annoyance.

“we understand. take your time. i just hope you two are back in shape for music bank, when you guys have to go on in two days.” said jake, before he got up to get more water from the kitchen.

“wait- then, who covered for us five days ago? if i didn’t show up, i assume he didn’t either.” you furrowed your brows.

“eunchae and sangmin came back temporarily due to the circumstances. but you two are required to be back by this next airing.” jungwon informed.

“jungwon, we should get going. but it was lovely talking to you. see you around.” jake politely interrupted as jungwon followed him out the door.

you remained sat on the couch in silence. “what am i gonna do..” you murmured.

TAGLIST (italics = couldnt be tagged) @hannicorpse @luvvhaerin @chaevibes @en-verse @ren2jay @choppedballoondetective @heartheejake @imanalien143 @istglevi-gotmesimping @yndairy @eleanorheartschishiya @lonelylandofan @gweoriz @jaemified @onlyhyunjin @softpia @frecklesbrownies @riksaes @wensurr @rikifordmiami @brideslit @ant-onie @yumilovesloona @aeminju @hoonics @catecita @clampclover @rei4sunoo @addictedtohobi @rikidaze @baekxo07 @xotyla @melancholy-z @rikisgeef @jung1w0n @tocupid @onlyseung @i03jae @iheartshopping @istphanie @queenriki7 @academiq @1117promises @nctislifue @haechansbbg @rairaiblog @nabia-bia @pkjay @lixiebokie @hiekoo @r1kizerr @d-dilemma @kingofthekards @iilwji @hoonatic @woorcve @enhaz1

[defrosted69]

Ms. Sunshine

(IVE Wonyoung x Male Reader)

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.

.

The light brightened your surroundings as you were surrounded by hustling people in a familiar mall that you have been many times before yet felt completely fresh to you. You stood there, perplexed as to why you were there in the first place, but your uncertainty seemed to be limited to yourself. But suddenly a hand grabbed yours, dragging you in front of a woman whose hair appeared to be shining from the way it swirled in the air. However, this woman was both unknown and familiar.

There was this strange sense of warmth that developed in your hand, reaching your heart and made you euphoric with remembrance. But before you can confess it, her touch makes you feel protected. You need to ask her who she is.

"Wait hold on. Who are you."

The woman came to a stop in her steps as your pulse rate increased, making you apprehensive. You heard a little chuckle, but it was reverberated as if her voice was five other versions of her own voice. This would make it more difficult for you to recognize her.

"I'm-"

As she said those words, your eyes widen as a bright light illuminated your view unable to see her face as everything suddenly was slowly becoming silent and the light getting brighter and brighter and brighter..

You awaken from a dream in which you were being carried by a girl with her back to you. The girl was beautiful, with long wavy hair and an exquisite elegance about her. Just as you were ready to inquire her name, your alarm goes off, and you awaken with despair. The dream was so realistic and the girl so appealing that it left me feeling empty and homesick. You don't recall the girl's face, but the melancholy stays.

You still recall the girl and how happy she made you feel. You desire to return to the dream and be with her again. But the vision of her face continues to evade you, and you worry losing the joy she gave to your face. You were split between wishing for her and wanting to forget, to move on from the misery of not knowing her. But you know you can't move on without finding closure and putting a face to the girl who haunts you.

Then it hit you. You haven't such a dream of that girl since your 2nd year in College and now it's been 6 years since then. It was weird because that dream was more frequent back in highschool. And during your youth, you would have such crazy delulu moments thinking that was your wife but when it stopped, you also began thinking it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

Then it happened again once during your 2nd year college and it felt real because again, it was the same girl. Despite her not turning her face towards you, that feeling she gives you was very familiar so you know she was that girl again. And although it was a short time, it made you smile.

But now, it only was a reminder how lonely you have become and that there was a void in your heart that will never be filled up with. An empty space they can call it which no matter many bandage you put on it, nothing can hide the scar and bleed it had.

Leaving your apartment with a heavy burden was something you were used to as you grew older but having that dream is something that doubles the weight on your heart and mind. The days of happiness is something you wished to achieve yet even in dreams, you couldn't reach it. It sucks because the end goal for you was to find that happiness and live through it with smile yet so far, no clue where you can find it.

Your gaze shifted upward as you approached someone familiar, and the small boy grinned gleefully as it disengaged itself from holding its father and dashed at you with a brilliant smile full of excitement and enthusiasm.

"Uncle Y/N!!"

"Wassup little man."

You kneeled down on to meet him as you embrace the little boy in your arms. If there's something that would bring a smile on your face is this little guy right here who's always so energetic and full of energy. Something that you wish you had when it comes to handling the day.

"It's his first day at school ever so he's very excited."

A deep voice spoke as you looked at your brother who had a proud smile plastered on his face. Just like his son, both had the same shining smile that illuminates the surrounding. Though it's kinda funny how you are his little brother because unlike him, your dashing smile was nowhere to be seen at all.

"I can tell. Though you sure he won't cross-rhodes anyone?"

"Haha very funny Y/N. You know I keep him away from watching those for now."

"So you're telling me when he's in 1st grade, he can do that someone?"

"Possibly yeah."

You two shared a moment to laugh. Despite not having the same shine as his smile, the humor between brothers is still there to linger and to look forward too. But aside from the jokes and humor, He was still your brother for a reason.

"Hey."

"What?"

"I know your struggling right now but just you know, I'm here for you, as your brother and family. You know that right?"

He patted your shoulder giving it a small squeeze assuring you that he will always have your back. A small smile appeared on your face because Cody has always been the guy to keeps on picking you up whenever you were at your lowest point. No matter how deep you keep on getting into, Cody was there ready to pick you up.

"I know. I know. Thanks but I can handle this. It's just a slight case of sadness and emptiness. I had worse case than this."

"I know, just…I'm here to listen okay? You don't have to think to much and carry everything on your back okay?"

You sighed softly and nodded your head at him assuring him you'll be alright. Dark battle with yourself is a very hard battle especially if your all alone so having an assurance with him is a good thing.

"Alright, We'll be going then. Say bye to Dad and mom now little dude."

"Bye bye Dad, Bye bye Mom"

He waved his small hands at his parents who smiled and waved back at him. Your brother Cody nodded at you signaling that your now responsible of his child. You nodded back as you held the little boys hand and walked towards his nursery school. Despite having a troubled life right now, your love and caring nature to your nephew was undeniable because you have been his friend and uncle since his birth. You have never missed a single event in his life and today marks another story for him with you.

"You nervous Little man?"

"No. I'm excited Uncle Y/N. Dad told me I'll make friends like you."

"But they aren't gonna be dashing unlike me"

"Uncle.. You and your lame jokes again."

"Come on, I'm dashing and you know that right?"

You poked his nose making him scrunch his nose cutely as you let out a laughter. It was always a fun thing to do when it comes to teasing and joking around with him. But it's also way that you care about him as you don't want him to suffer the same sadness your suffering because after all, kids deserve to have fun.

The walk to his preschool wasn't that much long from your brother's house as you keep on teasing him and joking around him making sure he doesn't get nervous on his first day. Because despite showing that the little boy could be an extroverted person in the future, there's a slight chance he might feel out of place with the rest of the kids and you don't want him to suffer what you did.

Upon reaching the school gate, you notice a lof of kids already enjoying themselves as you see your nephews eyes starting to shift slightly meaning he's nervous. You gave his head small pat and smile.

"Don't be nervous okay?"

"I-I'm not nervous."

"Your ugly face say so."

"I'm not ugly. You meanie…"

You chuckled as you lead him to his classroom where there were a few kids along with their parents trying to keep their kid stop from crying. Of course you understand this since perhaps they aren't used to being sent away from their parents. You guided him to his seat and gave him a packed of chocolate drink.

"Here, drink this so you'll have many friends. Remember what I Always tell you right?"

"Yes Uncle. Never be rude and always be friendly. I remember it well uncle."

You smiled as you gave his hair a good small ruffle just because. You Looked at him one last time before leaving the classroom as you have 2 more hours before you pick him from school. So you would usually just stroll around the city clearing your mind during those times and as you were trying to think of a spot to sit at the park, a female teacher seems to be clumsy on her first day as her papers was on the floor scattered. And what's intriguing is how people didn't even tried to help the poor woman.

You sighed as you saw an image of yourself in her. So without thinking twice you picked up her papers S you neatly arranged them and handed it to her. You were quite suprised to see her almost in tears which caught you off guard in some degree. But you quickly recovered and helped her up as well. But what surprised you is how tall she was. You were on her chest level and you were 6 foot 3 inches.

"Thank you… Thank you…"

She seems to be closing to breaking down and you thought that students would be the only one who were crying on their first day, apparently teachers too. You pulled out your handkerchief as you let her wipe her tears away.

"Your welcome. But please try not to cry infront of kids. They deserve to be happy not sad okay Miss?"

"Yeah.. Sorry, your right. Thank you."

You nodded your head and walked away as your mind once again returned to finding a spot to think and relax your mind away from the sadness your feeling deep inside. You forgot one thing though and it was something that will forever change your life for the better. As Wonyoung watches you leave, she takes the courage to her first class ready to make children laugh and learn.

"I'll return your handkerchief later on.. Thank you stranger."

.

.

.

The walk to the park wasn't anything special at all because it was close to your nephew's school and you preety much had a clear path towards it. No need to detour around. Sitting on a wooden bench admiring the scenery infront of you put a small hint of sadness in your mind.

You managed to look back how your life has turned out compared to your brothers and sister was something you hated to hear. Having a history of successful story within your family name and ending up being the black sheep and failure of the family was the perfect description to be given to you.

You chuckled realizing and recalling how many mistakes you have done leading to your situation. The constant memory of dissapointment from yourself and from your family was always a reminder for you that there was no fixing your situation. You'll forever be an asterisk.

Everyone has left you except your brother Cody who still believed and trust you that you can stir that ship back to its path but you know deep down, that the ship, is slowly sinking to the deep ocean ready to be forgotten.

Your sadness has come so bad that you were given prescriptions just to be able to sleep at night and mute the voice that speak to you every night. Yet they cost a lot and a rope was more cheaper and easy to handle. But that last bit of hope was your nephew.

Just as you were about to let go, your brother Cody reached out to you, saw past your mistake, and still saw you as his brother. He made the world around you brighter and more fun to some extent, but the light that kept you going was seeing your nephew smile and be happy. Because you know how much weight he will bear as the only individual with the last name Rhodes. The duty and expectations of him will come in the future, but for now all you want from him is to have fun and enjoy his youth, which you have lost.

Being pushed down and having high expectations placed on you at such a young age was the chain that bound your legs as you grew older. And the objective prize of not disappointing your parents was all you desired never to happen, but alas, Life is harsh, and everything just collapsed when the fact was that you were never as brilliant or as similar to your brothers.

You weren't the smartest, strongest, witties, nor even the most useful in your family. In your perspective, you were the dead weight of the family and that one accident changed you forever.

Just when you thought you trusted your friends the most, you made the worst error by trusting them too much and falling into the lowest hole of disappointment. You remember it like it was yesterday. It was a beautiful afternoon, and you were just going home when your buddies invited you to a brief hangout session by the beach. Nothing unusual appears to be happening right now. You and your pals usually spend out at the beach, but today was different.

Once arriving there, you saw some of your female classmate there and suprising of at, the girl you liked was there as well which already confused you and made you nervous. Usually it was just you and your friends but perhaps today was the day they will help you get her.

Boy you were so wrong.

They then began bringing out booze, which surprised you because none of your pals were alcoholics, but the fact that they were attracting the attention of your female classmates indicated that they were up to something unpleasant. So you cautioned one of your buddies not to get too intoxicated, but they ignored your advice and continued drinking as if they were grownups. They were boisterous and crazy, which naturally attracted the attention of the authorities.

They approached so quickly that none of you were able to respond, but when they inquired who brought out the booze, they all pointed to you. And the first person to point at you was your first buddy since elementary school, and the fact that he did so astonished and frozen you.

"It was his sir. We were trying to stop him but he continued because he said that he won't get into trouble because he's a Rhodes so we trusted him. But he's just an immature prick"

The words he spoke cut your heart a million times, and the fact that everyone backed him made your heart break piece by piece. And, worst of all, the girl you'd idolized for so long pointed at you with the words that still haunt you now.

"You're a sick guy. I hate you Y/N"

And just like that, everyone loathed and turned against you. You became your school's biggest humiliation and were kicked out because the principal wanted to keep his face and the school's reputation clean. Hell was inflicted upon you at school, and worst of all, at your home. Having your name tainted creates a negative picture for them, and you felt your elder brother, Dustin, rage boiling up as he beat you up with the purpose to murder you. If Cody hadn't fought back for you, you would have died at the hands of your brother.

But what's worse than your brother's punches was the look of dissapointment from your mother and sister who looked away from you avoiding your eyes. It was then you realize, you were never loved by anyone in the family as you ran away from that house hold never to be seen again.

You suffered alone and that has always been the case with you. Nothing goes right for you and it was only appropriate that your picture was gone from the family picture because after all, who needs a useless person like you. Your friends stabbed you in the back, the eldest brother wants to kill you, and your own mother and sister didn't even try to help you. Nobody loved you from the start.

But your brother cody, He was different. The moment you left house, was also the time he left for college but he looked you first in the city. You tried to push him away but he didn't shove or pushed back. He opened his arms at you waiting for you to reach up to him as he never closed the door for you. You continued to make more mistake in life yet when you realize that Cody was willing to accept you, you reached out to him and he helped you.

Although it had been a few years since you last saw him, his grin had not changed, and what surprised you was that he was carrying his son, who at first appeared afraid to see you, which was reasonable. Given your situation, it was understandable for a child to be wary of you. But when you were left together, he handed you his toy, and you played with it, and your nice uncle responsibilities began from there.

A warm grin spread across your face as you remembered how his son welcomed you, just as Cody accepted you despite your flaws and mistakes. Your phone alerted you that the two-hour period had finished and it was time to pick up your nephew. You stood up from the bench, groaning slightly, and headed back to the school, where many parents were waiting for their children. Knowing your nephew would rather stay in his classroom than go even though it was dismissal time, you went to his classroom and found him painting while talking to his instructor, who looked at you in surprise.

"You're that guy from-"

"Uncle!!"

Your nephew crashed into you causing you to kneel down and hug him back as his warm embrace always keep a smile on your face. Once you pulled away from him you stroke his hair and smiling proudly of him.

"You didn't give your teacher a headache did you?"

"No Uncle."

"That's good to hear."

You stood up and looked at Wonyoung who gasped and couldn't believe what she was seeing. The man who helped her earlier was a guardian of the kids she's teaching.

"Thanks for being patient with my nephew miss."

"Ah-no it's okay. Ah, Right Your handkerchief."

Wonyoung went to grab a box from her bag and handed it to you which widen your eyes upon seeing the brand of the box. You immediately reject it feeling overwhelmed for just a simple handkerchief.

"Ah No need Miss, I don't need that expensive handkerchief."

"Ah not a fan of Luis Vuitton? Hmm.. Ah I think I have a prada brand on my bag"

"No no please. It's fine Miss, it's not that big of deal."

"But it is for me. You reminded me of what my role is to the kids. You cleared my overwhelming thoughts. So this is nothing to me."

Wonyoung smiled sweetly at you and you just sighed knowing that people like her are the one who's persistents are off the roof. They would chase the impossible for you because they said so. But you still can't accept such expensive gifts from her.

"I understand but I can't accept it. Instead of giving me something expensive, just please continue being patient with this little kid over here?"

You pocked the cheeks of your nephew who smiled and giggled upon contact with your finger as Wonyoung felt her heart melt seeing how adorable your relationship with your nephew looked like.

"Okay. Okay you win. I'll take care of Little Rhodes right here. Hehe~ but may I know your name?"

"Y/N Rhodes"

"Wonyoung. Jang Wonyoung."

The two of you shaked each other's hand and what you didn't know that at this time, your fortune and dark days will be filled with days full of…her.

.

.

.

As the days passed, you and Wonyoung began to get to know each other better through your nephew, who appears to purposefully stay in class to be picked up by you, which causes you to chat with Wonyoung more frequently. Although you were a reserved person in general, Wonyoung was able to burst your bubble of protection without damaging you or even touching on a difficult subject.

Talking to Wonyoung seems so peaceful and tranquil, and despite your lack of faith in others, Wonyoung might be someone you can trust. Your nephew smelled what was cooking in front of him and wanted to hook you up with her. Yes, your own nephew set you up for a brief lunch with Wonyoung, who gladly agreed. You, on the other hand, began to panic since you weren't sure what to dress, let alone what to do.

You've never had lunch with a girl before, and the experience of having lunch with someone you know seems so distant. Despite feeling overwhelmed, you pushed through since you didn't want to disappoint her. But you also have to know that she invited you to a beautiful restaurant, which blew your head.

You were starting to piece together that Jang Wonyoung isn't just an ordinary teacher but perhaps someone more powerful and richer that you could ever reach. But nonetheless, you admired your look which was preety decent. It wasn't luxurious looking but it makes you comfortable as you wore an orange shirt, blue denim jeans and white shoes. That was your natural clothes so you went to the place.

And even before entering the place, outside of the restaurant felt like it was made for billionaires and Millionaires and someone like you who only has a few dollars and cent on your pocket don't deserve to be their. You were anxious but taking a deep breath, you stepped towards the guy outside with a clip board.

"Welcome to L'amour Le Cour. Do you have reservations?"

"Umm a table for Ms. Jang-"

"Y/N?"

You stopped in place as an eerie sensation ran down your spine and your hand began to shake uncontrollably. The awful memories began to flood your head as you took a deep breath before turning your back and seeing the ones who made hell possible for you. It was quite suitable to watch your first friend and the person you used to admire holding hands since they looked so beautiful and sophisticated in comparison to you, who appeared so drab and basic.

He laughed unable to believe you were standing outside an luxurious restaurant as the girl looked at you with disgust as if you were the filthiest man on earth.

"Oh man, I didn't expect to see you here. Why are you even here? You don't belong here drunkard."

His unpleasant smirk caused you to clench your fist in rage, but you must remain calm or nothing positive will come of this. The only right thing to do now was to walk away, since individuals like them would only bring you horrible memories. So, without responding him, you moved past him, but you were forced to confront him.

"I'm talking to you bastard! Answer me when your nothing but a useless human being-"

SLAP

Wonyoung slapped the man up, standing tall in front of you with a scowl and fire in her eyes, yet despite her flaming gaze, she looked exquisite and gorgeous in her gold dress, almost like a fairy.

"Don't talk bad to my boyfriend you backstabber."

The man bite his lip and was about to Attack Wonyoung with a fist but another fist connected on his face as he landed straight to his car destroying his windshield. Wonyoung smiled seeing her body guard protecting her.

"Thanks Yujin hehe."

"Anything for you Madame."

Wonyoung then began to march to his girlfriend with panic on her eyes as Wonyoung smiled devilishly before standing infront of her clearly towering her which intimidate her.

"You made someone special to me suffer so much so, I'll make sure you two suffer as well hehe~"

The panic and fear on her was evident as she couldn't look at Wonyoung in the eyes yet she was able to ask her a question.

"What..what do you mean?"

"Toodles~"

Wonyoung didn't answer her as she just turned her back allowing her hair to slap the face of the girl as she gave Yujin the command and she smiled brightly at you holding onto your hand.

"A table under my name please."

"Of course Ma'am Jang. Right this way."

The servant then lead you two inside the restaurant as Wonyoung took the lead holding your hand but you were still shocked on what just happened earlier. Everything moved so fast and your brain couldn't process everything yet. As the two of you sat down, it was then you processed everything that just happened.

"Why did you do that Wonyoung?"

Wonyoung looked down in shame as she didn't want to admit the truth with you because she was afraid that you would react differently and destroy the relationship you two had going on.

"I'm sorry Y/N…I didn't mean to do that I just didn't want them looking down on you because of… Your past."

"My past? How did you-"

"Your Nephew told me. Don't get mad at him, please I… If your gonna get mad. Get mad at me because I got curious about you.."

People who meddle with your life are the ones you hate the most and right now, Wonyoung stepped inside the boundary of yours as you felt so dissapointed in her.

"So you used my nephew to know about me?"

"No I didn't. He-"

"Enough Wonyoung. I'm dissapointed in you."

Wonyoung looked down with a huge frown on her face as she was expecting this to happen but what she didn't expect is the pain her heart was experiencing. This was gut wrenching for her and all she wanted to do was help.

"Y/N.."

"Goodbye Wonyoung."

And just like that, you left the restaurant leaving Wonyoung alone as she sighed and let the tears fall from her eyes. Once again, you made a bad decision in your life and perhaps this was the biggest wrong decision you made because unknown to you.

She did all that because she caught feelings for you.

.

.

.

The days of escorting your nephew to school were finished when you told your brother Cody that you would no longer send him to school. Your brother was taken aback at first, but eventually accepted it since he realized something was on your mind at the time. However, your nephew has been affected by this.

He missed you escorting him to school and having little conversations with his teacher, Ms. Wonyoung, since he knows and sees that she likes you. She truly likes you, and he wants you nothing but happiness; after all, hearing your story from his father earned you a special place in his heart.

So a week without you was awful for him, and he'd had enough. He requested his father to bring him to you and complied. When he arrived at your flat, he excitedly hugged you, and you returned the hug. You weren't going to lie, you missed the embraces from him as you allowed him into your apartment as your brother waited in his car.

"Hey little man, you want orange juice? I can make you one."

"It's okay uncle. I just want you back to walking me to school again."

He was direct to the point as you sighed and sat next to him on the couch.

"Uncle has just been busy you know. Sorry."

"Lier. You don't work much uncle."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh as you were caught by him. Despite his age, he was a very sharp person who gets to understand things.

"Uncle, Ms. Jang is so sad."

Your laughter died hearing her name. You were dissapointed in her yes but you also had a fault for not listening to her but what explanation was left there is? You had enough of trusting people and your heart could only handle much heartbreak.

"Listen you-"

"Ms. Jang likes you a lot uncle. I told her of your past and how of an amazing uncle you are to me. She didn't care about your past because you, caught her heart by what your doing now. And that is being a better person."

You were quiet as you listened to his words. You couldn't believe that a kid was punching your stupid brain with facts and truth and all you could do was just bow your head in shame.

"Uncle, Ms. Jang is a good person. You should apologize to her or talk to her because I don't want to see you or Ms. Jang sad. Uncle, I want you to be happy just like how you made me happy whenever you're with me uncle."

No words got out of your mouth as you know that he wasn't lying. You really messed up shutting Wonyoung down as you need to make things right. With so many wrong decision you have made, you have the biggest opportunity to correct your biggest mistake of your life. You hugged your nephew as he had snapped your head towards the right direction.

As you lead him back to your brother's car, you spoke with cody.

"Hey, he's a good kid."

"I know. Just like you before."

"Yeah. Because of him I realize my mistake and how much of a pussy I am."

Cody laughed whole heartedly as he pat your back but his Pats felt like a proud brother towards you.

"I'm glad you realize that. Well, we better get going now."

"Bye uncle hehe."

You watch as your brothers car drive away and a new sense or resolve fill your heart. Taking deep breath, you began to sprint towards the place where the woman that cared for you was waiting for you.

.

.

.

Wonyoung groaned after finishing the seatwork for the youngsters to do next week. She began to glance around the classroom, and while it felt empty, her heart was the one who felt the most lonely since the guy she loved had abandoned her.

Perhaps the words of her friend was true. Maybe love wasn't really just for her because she failed to give you good impression that she's a woman that can change you and make you feel love.

Hearing stories about your past from your nephew and your brother only made her more like you because you were so strong dealing with this kind of problem. But now all that was gone and-

"Wonyoung."

Wonyoung widen her eyes seeing you catching your breath on the door as she hurriedly went towards you with concern on her eyes. Despite the fact that the words you said to her was painful, she still cares for you.

"Hey are you okay? Did you run?" Wonyoung gripped your cheeks and examined your face as perspiration dripped from your brow. You didn't mind the perspiration since you enjoyed her touch on your cheeks, which felt warm and kind. You grabbed her hand and pulled it from your cheeks, holding her hands tightly and staring into her eyes.

"I'm sorry Wonyoung. I really am sorry for what I said."

Wonyoung shook her head as she understands why you were angry and dissapointed in her.

"No it's my fault for being nossy. I shouldn't have meddle with your life."

"Wonyoung, I don't mind you meddling with my life because.. I want you to be part of my life."

Wonyoung froze in place as her cheeks began to warm up upon hearing the words you just said. Her eyes was starting to get lost in your gaze as she felt so relaxed and loved.

"All my life, I shut people away because I faced trust issues but you, Wonyoung. You broke that bubble of mine and repaired my issue and more importantly, you pieced my shattered heart together. So Wonyoung, Please be a part of my life from now-"

You didn't even finish as Wonyoung hugged you as she buried her face on your chest sniffing your scent as she giggled.

"If it means I can smell this forever then yes. I'll be a part of your life and Heh, can I be that girl of your life?"

Wonyoung raised his gaze to meet yours, revealing a previously hidden grin in your mouth. You nodded because you couldn't let go of the girl in your arms. So you hugged her, and the two of you enjoyed a love embrace that would warm any frigid room.

.

.

.

A few months has passed by and it was your nephew's birthday party as his friends were all present there. Cody and his wife Brandi were all greeting their guest but your nephew was pouting as once again, he was waiting for your arrival.

"Dad. You sure you told Uncle that today is my birthday?"

"Yeah he'll just be a little late."

"You always say that but he never shows up.."

He puffed his cheeks as he looked down dissapointed as for his past birthdays, you have always skipped it because you didn't want to appear in public around your brother's friends because you felt shame. Yet this year it was different.

"Who says I don't show up?"

Your voice made him look up as you stood there with a huge gift for him.

"Uncle!"

He happily rushed towards you hugging you tightly as you returned the hug and ruffled his hair.

"Happy birthday~Hehehe~"

After pulling away from you he noticed someone familair standing next to you. Your nephew's eyes widen in shocked and suprise to see his teacher, Wonyoung give him a gift as well as he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Ms. Jang? What are you doing here?"

"Hey, she's not Ms. Jang. She's your future Aunty so behave yourself."

"WHAT?!"

You and Wonyoung shared a laughter as he couldn't believe the words that came out of your mouth. Wonyoung giggled as she patted his head.

"Call me Aunty Wony okay? Hehehe"

Your nephew grinned and nodded, delighted that you and Wonyoung were finally together. Cody touched your shoulder and smiled at you with pride. Cody was overjoyed to see you finally enjoying moments in your life because he knows you deserve them after all the anguish you went through years ago.

Wonyoung cupped your cheeks as she gave you a quick kiss as you chuckled at her action.

"Was that my morning kiss?"

"Yeah. You didn't kiss me earlier when we woke up so, kiss me too Babe."

"Ugh your so needy Wony."

"Kisss mee pleaseeeeee."

You chuckled because you think it cute and humorous when your girlfriend Wonyoung becomes possessive and needy. It always thrills your heart to see her like this, so you complied and kissed her lips as you two kissed, which was full of love.

After everything that had transpired in the past, Wonyoung was the girl who restored your enjoyment of life and gave you something to look forward to. Having the lady who loves you so much makes the anguish and suffering of the past all worth it because

Wonyoung is worth caring about. .

.

.

[littleapplle]

change. 𝐈.

melancholy and the bitter taste of homesickness fill each corner of his brain when you're away. between broken sobs, stormy skies and lost pearls, rafayel is glad he can still find comfort in what is left of his long forgotten home and loved ones.

cw: nothing really. fluff, angst if you squint. mentions of fem!reader. weird way to describe jellyfishes... bare with me. 2.1k w. mermay event masterlist.

note: first chapter for mermay out! this was so fun to write<3 talking about lemuria and writing about it are one of my favorite things. i hope you all enjoy it. also this turned out a little angsty?? it wasnt the intention really LOL.

There are some days where getting his hands dirty with paint isn't enough to drown the feeling of being homesick. The days where you're away and his melancholy gets the best of him. 

There are days where Rafayel’s eyes match the dark stormy skies and he doesn't bother to pick up the solidifying tears that quickly turn into pearls and bounce on the floor.

And like a toddler in search of comfort, his limp body crosses the sand, getting soaked by the rain in the process. He doesn't bother to take his shirt off, nor his watch and jewelry. As soon as he's knee-deep in the water, Rafayel lets the following harsh wave swallow him entirely.

The scene would make anyone witnessing it panic. A man, apparently out of his mind, mindlessly walking towards the ocean while a storm roars in the skies and creates turbulent waves that crash against the shore violently. His figure is engulfed entirely in a single breath, leaving no traces behind.

Rafayel does not fight against the raging waters. Instead, he lets them guide him to wherever they want as a punishment. Shame hits his bones with the pain of a gunshot, crawling up his spine like an itch he can’t scratch.  His wish was for the waters that created him to eat him from inside out, filling his insides with salt and sand and devouring him whole. 

An unfortunate, hypothetical end that was impossible for the lemurian to reach. How would the waters of fate, that sculpted him with prayers and devotion, fill the lungs of the god of tides with  agony  and disrespect and take his last breath?

God of what now? Rafayel scoffs in his mind.

Rafayel would trade his royalty, adoration, praises, people, everything, for you a hundred times again and never look back. He'd wait for you, alone, looking for you in every corner of the world, more than a thousand times. Rafayel would trade the whole sea for the bond you two made all those years ago but still – his heart aches with loneliness. 

With his pale arms holding his tail close to his chest, Rafayel lets his body sink as deep as it can. He no longer can hear the raindrops stabbing the surface, just the misery haunting his mind.

He misses home. His studio is right there, the white curtains on his tall windows are probably waiting for him to get back and close them so the rain doesn’t soak the fabric. The painting he started earlier, a frustrated attempt to soothe his troubled mind, still waits for him to be finished, or burned. Everything he has achieved as Rafayel Qi is right there but he misses home.

He misses Konche and Algie’s rare banters, where he’d pet their heads with a hearty laugh and make both go quiet in the blink of an eye. He misses being surrounded by art, his culture. He misses his aunt brushing his hair while singing him praises, he’d puff his cheeks and say she’s family and he’d rather be viewed as a nephew than a god. Talia is alive, Verona is a flight away. He should call her later. She’d listen and if he cried for a lullaby, she’d fulfill his wish. But it’s not the same.

He isn’t sitting on his vanity while Talia plays with his hair. His luxurious room, where he’d lock himself in and silently curse the tome of the sea god that everyone expected him to follow strictly, does not exist anymore. The mothers with their chubby babies cradled in their arms that would stop him in his tracks and ask for a blessing — not an actual one, but the comfort of being seen by their leader — vanished. Corals dyed in crimson are the only things proving they once existed.

If Rafayel didn’t care for the pearls leaving his eyes and hiding in all the tricky and messy spots back in his studio, then he definitely doesn’t care for the ones slowly sinking in the deep. Maybe humans would find them years later and sell his suffering. They did it before, they’d do it again.

He does not dare to move, only sobbing and hugging his tail closer, maybe in an attempt to shift into something smaller and dissolve like sea foam.

The world is quiet around him, nothing dares to move.

“Is that him? Is he back?” At a chirp from afar, his ear fins twitch.

Another voice joins, answering the first one with a ‘pruuu’  sound. “Of course it is him. Who else would swim this deep?”

Rafayel’s inhumane eyes dart to the direction of the noise. He isn’t scared. It is not fear that fills him. Maybe some embarrassment for being acknowledged by the, apparently, unknown in such a weak moment.

His body relaxes once he realizes it’s no human language. It is fish language he hears. Rafayel does not know what goes through his mind at the moment but relief washes over every scale in his body. Maybe it was the quick distraction from his desperation, maybe it was the comfort to not have his mistakes pointed out by the first thing his sharp hearing could focus on in the deep. He doesn’t know. 

Swimming closer, his long body moves flawlessly to the direction the voices come from. 

“Ouughh!! He’s coming closer! Do my tentacles look okay?” The first voice fusses. To human ears, if they were ever capable of listening to the voices of the abyss, it’d sound more like a bunch of high ‘mimimi’s’. Rafayel is already certain of what he’ll find.

Taking shelter under a few large rocks that made it impossible for the human eye to see anything, he finally finds what has silenced his cries. Two jellyfishes ‘stare’ at him. The color of their tentacles almost drain out comically from being caught stalking the merman they’ve missed so dearly.

“Stalking is a crime on the surface, you know? You two are lucky my bodyguard isn’t here.” He teases but his stuffed nose fails to make him as intimidating as he wished to be. 

“Oh, we are so very, very sorry mr. Rafayel! We did not mean to intrude!” The pink jellyfish, Mimi, apologizes with high pitched chirps. Kiki, her lilac friend, swims in slow circles in agreement. “Yes, ‘ayel. We meant no harm but there are barely any visitors that swim this deep.” She sleepily adds, helping her friend out. “Only you.”

Tiny, misshapen pearls leave his eyes as he closes them tightly and laughs softly at their antics. 

Kiki, once stuck in the sand thanks to the high tides, was saved by Rafayel, who was taking a walk for inspiration. In gratitude, all the following times Rafayel’s body sinked into the dark abyss trying to find some comfort in what was left of his world, Kiki, and her loud friend Mimi, would make an appearance. Today wouldn’t be different.

“I’m not mad.” He chuckles and sniffles, cleaning his red eyes with his wrist. Mimi’s thin, pale pink tentacles twitch. “Were you crying mr. Rafayel? What troubles your mind?” She squeaks, worried ‘mimimi’s’  buzzing in his ears.

Everything. Rafayel thought. The absence of lemurian children that would love to play with you two, he’d like to say. Algie would adore them. The pair acts just like the siblings sometimes. Another tear falls from his bicolor eyes and quickly solidifies into a shiny, white pearl. 

He sits down on one of the rocks with a sigh, like a father that was about to give them the biggest and most valuable advice of their lives. The two delicate bodies rush to his sides like little kids, frightened to see a rare display of weakness of their guardian. 

“Back on the surface, I messed up one of my paintings,” he tries, “A commission. I did everything the clients asked for, but once I tried adding another person to the picture, the paint I used blended into everything else and it turned into a big mess.” 

His voice softens, he talks to them like they were toddlers. “And it made me really, really upset since the person I tried to paint was beautiful. The prettiest lady I've ever seen.” Rafayel’s does not care if he is making any sense or not. Well, venting to jellyfishes wasn’t already something common but he does not feel like being direct and say ‘I want my home, Lemuria. The one you two didn’t have the privilege to be born in. Algie’s favorite color was lilac, you’d be her best friend, Kiki. I miss my people.’ 

“Pretty like a mermaid?” — “Prettier.”  

Another whistle like, ‘pruuuu’ noise escapes both jellyfishes in acknowledgment.

“She must be really pretty then!” Mimi chirps but Kiki turns her translucent crown to the side in confusion. “Can’t you start again, ‘ayel?” She whispers with her tired voice.

Rafayel bites down on his already bruised, pink under lip in an attempt to stop it from quivering. “I can’t.” A pitiful whisper. 

They all remain silent for a long time. The pair spins around him in gracious, slow circles. Their long tentacles tickle his face and sides by accident. He chuckles.

“Well!” Clapping his hands, he gulps down a weak sob. He has been busy lately and did not have enough time to visit his little friends. The little ones shouldn’t be fussing over him while he drowned in his own pearls. “I’ll paint something prettier when I go back to the surface.” A peaceful life with his bride.

“How have the two of you been?” A webbed finger pokes Mimi’s pale crown, she whistles as a response. “Good! But the water has been colder and it makes Kiki too sleepy.” The pink one chirps, whatever sound a jellyfish could make closer to a giggle. Her lilac friend fights back, her crown pushing Mimi away weakly, “Not true…”

‘Mimimi’s’ and ‘pruuuu’s’  escape the pair while they discuss in whispers Rafayel’s ears can’t really catch a glimpse of. He chuckles anyway. Mimi, as energetic as a jellyfish can be, is the first to snap out of their argument, tentacles going static when she suddenly remembers something. 

“Oh! Mr. Rafayel! With spring coming soon- did you find your mate?” Not ‘a’ mate, your. Lemurian’s mate with someone they are completely devoted to and their bond is sealed with the ocean’s approval. At the subtle mention of your name, his usual smug smile returns to his face.

His back hits the cold rock and his arms rest behind his head. If he had to be honest with himself, he has been holding back since you two started dating, afraid his ‘inhumane’ side would overwhelm you. Lemurians love with fervor, it’s intense, they’d trade everything for their soulmates in a heartbeat. He doesn’t want to scare you, really. It’d break his heart in a thousand pieces if he ever saw you shy away from his touch.

He smiles, looking fondly at the animals that acted more like little children. How could he not get baby fever with two little ones that clinged to his arms every time they spotted him underwater? His grin grows bigger, a ‘Yepppp’ leaves his pretty lips, his mouthing making a ‘pop!’  sound for the dragged p’s.

They giggle at his silly smile, multiple tentacles twitching with their tiny, breathy laughs. “Lucky fish…” Kiki murmurs and swims closer to Rafayel’s tail like a lapdog. “Indeed! Are they pretty, mr. Rafayel?” — “The prettiest.”

“Pretty like a mermaid?” — “Prettier, Mimi. Like an angel.” Prettier than anything in this world, was his sincere answer but maybe the concept was too complex for a jellyfish.

He laughs as they have the same dialogue once more. Kiki does not intrude nor does she try to keep up with the conversation, quietly resting on the lilac and blue scales on Rafayel’s body.

An understanding ‘ohhh’ sound escapes the little one as she swims in circles. “Mr. Rafayel! You must show them to us! What could possibly be prettier than a lemurian?” 

“Do not fret, silly.” Again, a finger, glossy with mucus, pokes her crown. “I plan to, but she’s a dummy. Does not trust me when I say she won’t drown with me by her side. Humans are a pain, Mimi, do not talk to them, ever.” Rafayel sighs dramatically.

Misery and torment let go from his scales and bones and sink alone into the abyss, swallowed by the darkness they once came out of. Comfort is found in the silliest and strangest places. 

Rafayel sighs in relief as his eyes close, he keeps chatting to the energetic, pink child, entertaining her as much as he can before he has to come to the surface once more and deal with the, most likely soaked, curtains and maybe burn his half finished painting. 

His only wish now was for you to be able to understand fish language. Oh how delighted you’d be to chat with a jellyfish that acts like a four year old. The pair would love you, too, he thinks. He finds his mind in peace, the storm no longer suffocates him and pearls no longer try to choke him.

⊹ ࣪reblogs are very much appreciated. thank you for reading!(*´▽`*)

[cvoq]

In Commemoration of Her

Synopsis ﹐ You and James Sunderland are at Lakeview Hotel, planning to stay the night when he unlocks a key memory.

content ﹐Rated R (MDNI), SPOILERS! darkfic, smut, angst, non-con, pwp, descriptive/smut sex, somno, grinding, fingering, squirting, rough sex, p n v sex, james sunderland x fem!reader

╰╮wc 3.3k

Mary was a bright, sweet woman. Illness plagued her body when she was young and died 3 years ago from what you’ve heard. Apparently this “Maria” looked exactly like her, but where was she? You’ve heard so much about Mary this Mary that, that you knew James really did love her; For that reason he and you are at their special place, hotel room 312 looking outside of the illuminated Toluca Lake.

“James,” The name rolls sweetly off your tongue admiring the lakeside view. “It’s beautiful here..”

The cool moonlight hits your skin, reflecting you off the window. You’re wearing a white frilly sundress with spaghetti straps. As soon as you came off of work a few days ago, you took a trip to West Virginia with your bags packed heading to the homey-tourist-attraction; Silent Hill.

James was seeing something completely different. You turned around getting a glimpse to check on him, he previously placed a cassette tape into the TV that the room provided but it was just static. He was engulfed in what he was watching though. You chose to let him be in his thoughts and focus on yours.

As you recall, many strange things have been occurring ever since you came. While following James around, a little girl by the name of Laura tagged along with the two of you. She too was fond of Mary, however not so much of you. All you could remember was the girl's words that she exchanged with you in private while at the bowling alley.

“–James would never replace Mary!” She exclaimed clearly upset, her eyes welled up with tears ready to spill.

“I’m his friend,” You reply quietly trying to give the young girl reassurance. You watch her hold back from crying, feeling guilty. “Nothing will happen between us, everything that I’m doing right now is for her.”

“Rea-lly?” Laura asked, stifling through her words, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

“Really”

If only that were true. You wonder to yourself what the hell you were doing alone with a man in a hotel room during the dark. You really can’t pretend that you weren’t attracted to James. Ever since you’ve met him at the gazebo after wandering in the town for what seemed like hours, you’ve become “travel” buddies.

You choose to snap out of it, turning your attention towards James. He was on the armchair, slouched forward. He looked as if all life had been erased from him. Melancholy, miserable, you felt the feeling emanate with the void of silence.

“James?” You call out, taking a step closer to him on his right side.

“Mary’s,” James muttered with a pause. You pay close attention to what he’s trying to say. “Mary’s gone.”

You stand in silence, watching as James takes time to reflect on himself. You follow his eyes to see that he’s looking at the bed behind him tucked away in the corner with the night lights, staring at the pillows. You knew and took account of how lost and unstable James came off to be, but it never occurred to you how severe it was.

You pressed your lips, speaking softly to him. “Is everything..-Are you doing alright there?”

He stayed still in the same position, still not responding. It pains you to receive silent treatment from him but all you can do is wait for him to open up.

“I killed her,” James tells her with a defeated voice. His head stayed down as he looked at the floor right in front of him, not bothering to look up at you.

Your eyes widen and you respond with nothing. Didn’t he love her? You try to reason that maybe James was imagining things from all the pent up guilt he must have felt, but it really did seem that yes. James killed his late wife.

You’ve never felt more convicted.

“I’m going to wash up..” You say after a minute of pure silence between the two of you and James nods in response. Hopefully a quick shower would drain away all your worries. You promptly leave to the bathroom, leaving James all alone by himself.

For almost an hour, you stood under the shower thinking to yourself. You continued with the regular routine of brushing your teeth, combing your hair, and putting on a fresh pair of clothes which you had thanks to hauling around your suitcase everywhere you went. You felt refreshed that you were in new clothes but felt a dawning sense of pressure and guilt still there. You’re also a bad person if you somehow still manage to like him, a murderer, after all he’s done right?

Finishing your alone time, you swing open the restroom door stepping outside of it. “The bathrooms free for use,” you spoke while looking around the room to spot for James. There he was, on the bed without a blanket on top of him, fast asleep.

James' shoes weren’t even off.. he still had his jacket on, he was knocked unconscious. You scurry to his side of the bed he was occupying. The last you could do was get his shoes off for being able to book a room for the two of you. So you take off both his black leather boots from his feet carefully, trying not to wake him up. After placing them down nearby his bedside you look at his military jacket.

You contemplate if you should change him out of it but you wonder if it would be considered overstepping. You furrow your brows with your eyes lingering in his state. When James slept, you came to notice how his face was definitely more relaxed. His hair fell out of the way he styled it and his crease on his forehead seemed to vanish. He glowed under the warm light of the lamp, but he was a stressed guy.

Sighing to yourself, you move your hands to clasp onto James' jacket. Although you had to maneuver his arms and had to tug a lot, you managed to get it off revealing his gray long sleeved shirt. You place the coat on the nightstand beside you and get ready to tuck him in the sheets when you notice something.

A bulge, a bulge in his jeans. Your face flushes, staring at it for quite some time. Who knows what would’ve happened if you tried to take his pants off? What’s surprising is the size of it. It looked as if it was uncomfortable resting there.. but you just quickly covered James in a blanket.

You wonder where to sleep. The couches only seated one person and the night was cold. Surely, if you slept on the right side of the bed it would be fine. So you chose to climb in the sheets, on the far side facing away from James.

After turning off the lamp, you try to close your eyes but that led to you thinking about what you just saw. You smothered your face into the pillows but can’t help feel your cheeks warm up. You know it’s wrong. James only has love for his wife and you should respect that, so you doze off to sleep.

You wake up in a daze, feeling something press up against you. There’s a weighted feeling lingering on your back. A pair of hands hold your waist and- Shit. Who was doing this?!

Your eyes open slowly to catch a glimpse of your situation. It was James, rutting into you.

He grinded into your ass pressing his hardon into you. Grunting softly into the crevice of your neck that you felt his scratchy stubble rub against you.

What was worse is that you were turned on by this. He was in such close proximity, you could feel the heat emitting off of him. You tightly press your legs together clenching your thighs for dear life, feeling something build up inside of you.

“James..-”

“Help me with this, please..” He begs breathily, pressing you tighter onto himself.

“Al..” You hesitate for a bit. “Alright.”

James reached for your chest, groping onto you. You can feel his rough hands through the fabric, much larger compared to yours. He’s pressing them and messaging them with his palms, running his fingers over your now hardened nipples as you jolt at the sensation.

“I’ve needed this,” He admits grudgingly, taking in your smell. You’re so clean, floral.. so different from him.

You don’t know whether to feel relieved or shameful.

By now your top is ridden up, so James takes his time to place his hands on your stomach to feel your bare skin. You feel so hot, it’s suffocating. His calloused hands slide further to reach your supple breasts. Having you hitch your breath. He takes his time toying with them, squeezing your buds in between his fingers in a firm manner.

“-You’re teasing me..” You manage to utter out, embarrassed.

“Just a few more minutes,” James mutters, still rubbing your skin.

He then moves his hand down into your pajama pants, trailing to your soppy cotton panties. Running a finger up and down your slip, sometimes visiting your clit. You try to suppress your reactions but you can’t help bucking your hips into him.

“You’re -wet there.” James remarks in a quiet tone. It came off as he was flustered or akward, maybe a mix of both. You felt your heat pulse from his words.

“..I want more,” Communicating to him sheepishly. Afraid of seeming whiny and demanding of doing too much while doing too little, you reach your hand back touching his clothed erection. Then pressed your hand on it, trying to feel his girth through his jeans. His warmth emanated off of it.

James groans in response, nodding his head in affirmation. He moved your undergarments to the side revealing your glistening folds, slick from it was still strung onto your panties like a string. He’d blush, admiring how messy you were and rubbed his fingers up and down your hot pussy.

He slid a finger in, watching as you suck it in. Wetness seeped out from you onto his hand as he watched your face contort. You really did put lube to shame..

James worked his way to getting two fingers inside you. You let out soft “ohs” and “ahs!” with a flushed face. Your body felt so hot but your core was even worse, it craved for more and latched onto his fingers as he tried to pull out. Filthy noises spilled from your pussy, embarrassing you from the wet sound you were producing.

He rubbed his pads on the walls of your soaked cunt, noticing you tense up around them as he’s preparing to slide a third finger into you. There James feels a spongy area, feeling it and pressing his fingers on the spot.

“James-!” You yelp, tossing your head up. You feel yourself gush from your pussy, not used to the unfamiliar feeling.

He clenched his jaw feeling himself throbbing with need. The way you said his name was so endearingly erotic. James' pants felt so tight that any friction he felt within his confines almost had him losing it.

You clench around his fingers, gripping his hand placed on your waist as you let out a whimper. However all James does is tighten your grip on you, pressing down on your stomach continuing to fingerfuck you. You bury your face into the pillows as you feel the need to urinate as pressure builds up.

James then stuck another finger in, thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace watching as you go slack in his arms and your hips wiggle trying to escape his grasp. Did you have to be this sexy?

“Auh-Shit!” You moan, coming undone.

Warm clear fluid expels from your cunt as your abdomen tenses up, arching your back like a cat. You're so tight, trying to keep James fingers in as you shudder through your organsm. All that pressure is gone as you begin to feel a tingling sensation across your body.

After a couple of seconds of rest, you hazily look down to see the sheets drenched by you. James looks at his pants, wondering what he just did to you seeing all your essence on him. You squirted.

It took a lot of self control for James to not end up cumming hands free. His dick is pulsating like crazy as he tries to not succumb to the cloud of lust impairing his decisions. It’s too late.

You feel the mattress and sheets shift as you try to come back to your senses as your eyes wander around the hotel room, you see him on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I can't—” James exhaled in a shaky voice while looking down at your body. “Can we.. for tonight..”

You kissed him boldly for the first time, pressing your lips against his somewhat chapped ones. James' eyes widened but he eventually closed his eyes just as you were doing. He relaxed, getting more comfortable with touching you by rubbing your thighs. When James had the chance, he prodded his tongue in your mouth. You and him shared spit and saliva as your wet tongues went back and forth with each other. Messy like a makeout session but more intimate.

You run your hands over his chest, pulling off for fresh air as a string of saliva connects both of your mouths.

“Please,” You plead in a needy tone, looking into James’ green eyes. You toss your soaked panties to the side, spreading your legs apart feeling your slick coat the insides of your thighs. “Take me..”

Quickly, James unzipped his pants, although fumbling and took his cock out from his boxers. James sighed at the feeling of the cold air, giving his dick a few strokes spreading the leaking beads of precum across his shaft.

God, it looked so pretty. All you could focus on was how lengthy it was. He was well groomed too. You’d clench around nothing thinking about that thing being inside you.

You watch as he rubs himself on you, coating him with your slick. You gasp at the feeling of friction whenever he hits your clit and couldn't come to ignore his little grunts of pleasure.

James slid into you, bullying his cock into you halfway. He’d sigh at the feeling of how tight you were around him. Wet walls encapsulating him as he’d groan at how much he’d missed this feeling. You however, felt the stretch as you gripped onto the sheets. Legs shakingly wrapped around his torso.

He continued to bottom out, forcing his way into you. Hearing the audible squelch that came from you and James from doing so. You hissed at sensation, feeling so filled up as you place an arm covering your eyes arching your back.

-And that’s when something happened.

As you were still adjusting to his size, he quickly pulled out and slammed into you.

James' rapid thrust did not stop. His balls hit you each time he went in and out. He was completely infatuated looking at your body, watching your breasts bounce everytime he did that. You easily accepted his cock because of how drenched your little pussy was. He treated you if you were a fleshlight, something to be taken out on.

“Wa-it-! Too -rough!” You wail, not used to the fast pace. Your hips couldn't keep up with the pace as they quivered, having yourself being pounded by this man. Was it supposed to sting this much?

He ignored your request, drinking up the site of you as he let out a suppressed moan. James watched as your expression grew on your face, showing how lewd you were. Gripping you by your waist he fucks yourself onto him as he plunges into you. More focused on the heat of the moment than the lasting consequences.

Skin slapping echoed off the walls of the room. You try to get a hold of yourself, but your body was reacting in different ways. Your sloppy cunt leaked out onto the messy bed sheets, dirtying the vicinity more. You felt your pelvis rub against his, which already got sticky from you. So many moans left your mouth, but you can’t help but wonder what was going on in James' mind for him to be treating you in this way with the little amount of thought you had left.

“Hah..—You’re -driving me crazy,” James’ exhaled in between grunts having a tighter hold on you. He leaned his head down to your chest and latched onto your nipples. Sucking hard onto your tit as if he was expecting you to lactate out of nowhere or something.

Your head rolled back into the pillows, getting so much stimulation as your body jolted from his assault. The way James treated you during sex was like a cheap hooker and you couldn’t help but feel disgusting for loving all of it. Your legs at this point were in the air and about to give up. You just needed more time to experience this, but based off the way there was buildup of pressure in your core, it wouldn’t last too long.

His saliva coated your chest as he managed to hit the same rigid point in your walls. You let out the most salacious sound as you bucked your hips into him, urging James to do it again. Everytime he managed to grind himself against that one spot you’d tense up and clench around him with your gummy walls. All this time he was holding off the urge to release right in you. You were too good for a guy like him.

James had to reciprocate in one way or the other, so he moved one of his hands from your waist, trailing down to your pelvic region. He got his hands lubricated in your hot slick, and began circling your bundle of nerves sending you ablaze. You tighten around him like a vice, feeling yourself gushing all over his cock. He managed to try and go as deep as he could go, as if he was trying to reach your stomach.

Pleasure hit him like a flood. Warm ropes of semen filled you as he groaned, waiting for his load to empty inside of you.

You feel the substance flow into you. Suddenly, realization hits you and began pressing your hands on his chest.

“-James’ pull-out!” You urged quickly, unsure if Plan-B was available around these parts of town. Even so, James wouldn’t budge off of you. He instead gave a few pumps, riding out his orgasm while rubbing your clit, coaxing you to your bliss in which you quickly followed.

“I’m-!” You sob with a hoarse voice. You held onto James’ shoulders for stability reaching your peak. All the buildup crashes down on you as a pulse is sent all the way from your spine, making you bend your back from the mattress. Milky fluid bubbles out of the seams around his cock. You almost get knocked out from how powerful it was. Crashing onto the sheets.

You both stay in silence, catching your expirated breaths trying to regain yourselves. You hear James heavy breathing as he rests on top of you, engulfing you in a hug.

Moonlight shunned through the windows, being the only source of light in the room. You couldn’t make out his face but he clung onto really hard. Your face went cold after the afterglow washed over. James just came inside of you.

You tried to get him off but he was too heavy, his grip increased more. Almost enough to bruise you. You felt warm splotches on your shirt, looking down at James, beginning to apprehend your situation.

“Mary..” He crooned, burying his face into your chest. “Mary..”

authors note ︵ ✦ Didn’t see that much works for Silent Hill 2 so I thought I’d contribute! Interpret the ending however you like, first fic! Once I get my AO3 account, I’ll probably post this..

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Running with You

Kevin Tran x Winchester sister!reader, Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: just a little series of snippets of your relationship with Kevin (and Sam and Dean…it was mostly supposed to be about Kevin, but those stupid brothers wormed their way into more scenes than I thought they would)

Meeting a prophet for the first time didn’t go exactly as you’d thought it would. First of all, he was your age. Second, he was a total nerd. And third…

He was kind of cute.

The two of you hit it off almost immediately. But of course he had a girlfriend, so you had to back off—but Kevin still made a great friend.

He was incredibly panicked to find out he was a prophet, and your idiot big brothers weren’t very good at calming or comforting, so you took over that role. Ever since then, Kevin and you became fast friends.

You were there for him when his life fell apart. He was there for you when you were scared for Sam—just out of hell and very traumatized. You comforted him when Crowley killed his girlfriend, and…

And you were both there for each other when Dean went to purgatory, and Sam was too traumatized to keep going.

Sam walked away from the leviathan fight with no will to fight…really, no will to live. But when Crowley took Kevin, you couldn’t just let him go.

You were the one who helped Kevin escape, and you were the one who was there with him on the run for a whole year…

…

“C’mon Kevin, let me in! That was the secret knock!”

“But you didn’t do the secret password!” Kevin’s muffled voice came from the other side of the door. You groaned.

“Kevin, I did the password.”

“That was the old one.”

“You changed it again,” you groaned. “Kev, I can’t keep up with the password if you change it every week. Just let me in.”

“Fine,” Kevin grumbled, and you heard lock after lock begin to unlock. “But I’m spraying you with holy water the second the door comes open.”

“When have you ever not?” You teased him. True to his word, your face got blasted from Kevin’s water gun the minute the door creaked open. You wiped the water off your face good-naturedly and stepped inside with your groceries. You liked to tease Kevin about all of his safety precautions, but only because it was better than the alternative; if you couldn’t laugh about how scared the two of you were all the time, you’d just…well, you’d just be scared all the time.

The two of you had spent the past year on the run from Crowley and his black-eyes minions, and there was no such thing as too careful. You’d thought about calling Sam once or twice, just to check in, but you didn’t know how. He’d gotten rid of his usual numbers, and so had you; the two of you were completely cut off. That was by far the hardest part of being on the run. You hoped that Sam was happy—that he’d really gotten away from the life like he’d planned—he deserved it, he really did.

You couldn’t blame him for checking out after Dean…after he died. You couldn’t; because you knew exactly how it felt. After Sam had gone to hell, you hadn’t wanted to hunt either. You’d thrown away all your old phones, and you’d gone to Lisa’s with Dean, and you had just checked out. You knew what Dean was doing late at night with those books and with the computer—he was trying to find a way to save Sam. Once or twice you had even found it in you to join him in his research—but the dead ends just hurt too much, and you couldn’t do it anymore.

So you couldn’t blame Sam for checking out the same way. But that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt, especially since you hadn’t seen him in almost a year.

You forced yourself to shake off your melancholy as you focused on Kevin.

“How’s Patricia?” You asked. “She do anything crazy while I was gone?”

“Just shook the fridge a couple of times.” Kevin shrugged. “She seems to be in a good mood today.”

“Patricia” was an inside joke between you and Kevin. Ever since you’d found this safehouse, the weirdest things seemed to happen inside—the fridge shook in the middle of the night, food went missing, and even good things like the holy water guns being refilled without either of you touching them. You couldn’t remember who had named Patricia, but it didn’t matter; she was here to stay, and you’d done every test for a ghost or a poltergeist with nothing to show for it.

A harsh knock at the now-locked door behind you broke the lightheartedness in the air. You whipped around, and Kevin instinctually raised the holy water gun.

“Y/N?” You could’ve sworn your heart stopped at the sound of your big brother’s voice.

“Sam?” You reached for the handle, but Kevin grabbed your arm.

“It might not be him,” he argued. “Or he could be possessed.”

“Y/N it’s me!” Sam’s voice came again. “I know you’re here, and I know Kevin’s there too. We tracked you down, we need to talk to you.”

Neither you nor Kevin moved, but your mind was now going a mile a minute. Why would Sam track you down after so long? What did he need? And why did he keep saying “we”? The last question seemed the easiest to ask.

“Who’s we?” You demanded. There was a long silence on the other side of the door.

“Honey, please just let me in. I promise I can explain everything, but—“

“How do I know you’re you?” You challenged. Again, you were met with a king silence.

“Sweetheart—“ your heart stopped at the voice of your oldest brother. “Let us in. It…it’s us.”

You threw Kevin’s hand off your arm even as he argued with you—

“Y/N, no, it’s not them, you don’t know that—“

You completely ignored him, pushing him out of your way and clicking lock after lock until finally, you flung the door open to see the two people you missed most in the world.

The three of you stood there in silence, sizing each other up—Sam and Dean seeing how much you’d changed, and you gaping up at your brothers in disbelief. The silence was broken when Kevin took a half step forward and sprayed both of your brothers with his holy water gun.

“Seriously?” Sam grumbled, but Dean didn’t complain. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off you, and you couldn’t seem to tear your gaze away from him, either.

“Dean?” You whispered, the sound of his name shattering the silence.

“Hey sweetheart,” he greeted, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

You couldn’t hug him fast enough.

…

“So…” Dean glanced between you and Kevin, his features twitching into a suspicious glare. “What have you two been up to?”

You’d gotten the year recap from Sam and Dean, so now it was your turn to give your account.

“Oh, you know, running from Crowley,” you scoffed. You knew that wasn’t all that Dean meant—he was eyeing Kevin strangely, and you knew why.

“And you two are…” you resisted the urge to roll your eyes as Dean searched for a word. “What, just besties now?”

“Actually…” Kevin glanced to you for permission, and you nodded subtly. “We’re kinda going out.”

“Well—“ you shot Kevin a wry smile. “Not out. But we’re dating.”

Kevin responded to your smile with one of his own. It wasn’t really possible to leave your safe haven for non-emergencies, but the two of you spent so much time together that dates weren’t all that necessary. You weren’t sure when exactly your relationship with Kevin moved on from “just friends”, but it probably had something to do with the first time you kissed him…

It was at the first safehouse you’d bunkered down in after escaping from the demons. You were both soaked to the skin—you’d gone on a supply run, and it had started raining; you’d had to stuff the groceries under your jackets to keep them dry. The two of you hadn’t been in the safehouse ten minutes before a hoard of demons made their presence known by kicking down the door.

“Kevin!” You yelled a warning to the prophet just as a demon made to grab him—Kevin twisted away just in time, reaching for the holy water gun. He struggled to get a grip on it, his hands still soaked. Before he could, a second demon grabbed onto Kevin’s arm while the third and final demon knocked you back, keeping you away from Kevin.

Your back smashed against the kitchen counter, and you found yourself grasping for anything in reach to use as a weapon. Your hand closed around something cool—glass, maybe. Without even giving it a glance, you threw it at the demon keeping you from defending Kevin.

You got lucky—the glass container shattered against the demon’s face, and he began to scream as the cuts sizzled and burned; it was a salt shaker.

The second and first demon—both of whom now had a hold on Kevin—were momentarily distracted; it was all the prophet needed to twist away long enough to latch his fingers onto the water gun, and he brought it around and sprayed both demons in the face.

“Kevin, let’s go!” You’d gotten around the demons while they howled in pain, and now you hesitated in the doorway, waiting for Kevin to escape with you.

“No!” The demon howled. You saw the knife too late to stop it. “If we can’t have him, no one can!”

The demon buried the knife into Kevin’s stomach.

“No!” You screamed. Kevin gasped in pain—or shock—his mouth hanging open and his eyes darting down to the knife. The first demon glared at you, while the other two shared twin grins; then all three vanished.

“Kevin…” you whimpered as you took hesitant steps forward. Your hands were shaking as you reached for your friend—you knew enough to know not to take the knife out—and you grabbed hold of his jacket and eased it to the side to get a better look at…

The knife, stuck in a pound of ground beef from the market that Kevin had forgotten to take out of his jacket.

Kevin’s face brightened, his features lightening in relief. You just stared for a long minute, unable to still your runaway heart.

“Y/N?” Kevin breathed. “It’s…it’s ok. I’m—“

He never got to finish his sentence. You yanked the stabbed beef out of his inner pocket, throwing it across the room before snatching hold of his collar and yanking him towards you.

Kevin was stiff from shock for the first few seconds of the kiss, but as soon as he realized what was happening, he relaxed.

“Never scare me like that again,” you breathed when you finally pulled away.

Kevin’s grin was a mile wide.

“Yes ma’am.”

You snapped out of your memory when you heard your brothers start to speak.

“Congrats, guys,” Sam muttered awkwardly, while at the same time Dean grumbled—“oh boy.”

You couldn’t resist the eye roll this time—you should’ve known your brothers would make this weird.

“So—“ you broke the awkward silence. “I assume you came here for a reason. What’s going on?”

…

“Hey Kevin, let’s talk.”

Things had been calm for less than five before Dean brought up what you knew was coming.

“Uhh…” Kevin’s panicked eyes met yours. “Yeah, just, uh…just give me a second.” Kevin pulled you out of earshot of Dean.

“What?” You hissed. “You knew this was coming.”

“Yeah but you said you’d be there!” Kevin argued.

“No I didn’t,” you countered. “I said I’d step in if Dean went too far, I never said I’d babysit you any time Dean was around. This conversation is inevitable Kevin, I can’t stop Dean.”

“Fine.” Kevin huffed. “Can we at least have a code word.”

“For what?” You bit back a laugh.

“For if things get crazy!” Kevin struggled to keep his voice at a whisper.

“This isn’t a secret mission, Kevin.” You couldn’t hold back a little snicker at this. “If you need me, just say my name. It doesn’t have to be in code.”

“Your name.” Kevin took a deep breath. “Your name. Ok, I can do that.”

“Good.” You grinned, and you hoped it didn’t look too mocking. “Now go get him.”

…

“See?” You greeted Kevin as he returned from his talk with Dean—Dean looked much more happy than Kevin. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Uh…uh huh,” Kevin muttered. You cringed.

“He was a jerk, wasn’t he?” You asked.

“Uh huh.”

“Oh boy. C’mon, let’s go get some ice cream.”

…

“Hey Sam,” you greeted as you and Kevin watched Sam stride purposefully into the war room of the bunker. Sam however, didn’t say a word.

In three long strides, he reached Kevin. You watched in bewilderment as Sam stretched out his hand, realizing too late the truth—it wasn’t Sam.

His eyes flashed blue just as Dean burst into the room behind him.

“No!” Dean cried, and you turned just in time to see Sam—Gadreel—press his open palm against Kevin’s forehead. Kevin’s eyes flashed bright white.

You were screaming, you knew you were screaming. You could hear the inhuman screech piercing the air, but somehow it didn’t feel like you—you felt absent from your body, you felt like a floating, frozen nothing, forced to watch as your boyfriend slumped to the floor, his eyes just charred remains, as someone who was supposed to be your big brother turned his back and walked away.

“Kevin?” Dean choked. The air was a vacuum of nothing—no one moved, no one breathed, as you and Dean waited for a response that you both knew wasn’t coming.

You were reaching for him now, desperate to help him, to bring him back…but Dean pulled you away, turning you until your face pressed into his shoulder so you couldn’t get a closer look at your boyfriend.

As if he could make you unsee what had already scarred itself into your mind.

…

“Kevin?”

You held your breath as the apparition in front of you blinked out, then stabilized. It was him—after all this time, it was him.

“Yes!” Kevin breathed—could ghosts breathe?—a sigh of relief when he realized you all could see him. “I’ve been haunting this place for weeks and all you guys do is mope. It’s about time.”

“Kevin?” You said again, like you still didn’t believe it.

Kevin let his eyes wander for a long moment towards you, his hand twitching as if he wanted to reach for you.

“I don’t know how long I have,” he said, reluctantly turning his gaze back to your brothers. “So listen up.”

…

“My mom’s going to take me home until you guys can get the veil closed.” Kevin avoided looking at you as he spoke.

“Ok,” Dean said, and Sam nodded.

You huffed, uncomfortable with the silence.

“Can I have a minute?” You asked your brothers. They shuffled away without a word.

“It’s what I want,” Kevin said before you could speak. “I don’t want to just…being here as a ghost, it’s too much. It’s not what I want.”

“You don’t have to convince me,” you said quickly. “I…I wish you could stay here, but I understand your choice. I know it’s not the same as really being here.”

Silence reigned for several seconds.

“This sucks,” Kevin huffed finally. You couldn’t help but crack a sardonic smile.

“Yeah, it really sucks.”

“I wish we could’ve had more time.”

“Yeah.” You smirked. “We were quite the power couple.”

“Well now you’re just being cheesy,” Kevin chuckled, and you grinned.

“Hey, we got to at least try out that relationship thing—I guess that’s gonna have to be good enough.” You sighed. “Try not to drive your mom too crazy, ok?”

“Ok,” Kevin scoffed. “But only if you promise to fix your stupid brothers’ argument.”

“I’ll do my best,” you promised. Kevin turned to go. “Hey Kev?”

“Yeah?”

“Say hi to Patricia for me, ok?”

Taglist:

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[undiscovered-horizon]

[When the curse activity rises around the country, you reluctantly return to the school to help the sorcerers. Gojo Satoru seizes the opportunity to plead the case of his lovesickness. If you came back, maybe you and him can come back together, too?]

You've often wondered how it would feel to come back. Would you be excited? Or would the weight of the memories push you to the ground? How many things would be different and how many would you recognize?

A bitter chuckle leaves your mouth. You're a grown woman and yet you're nervous like an 8-year-old with mismatched socks. The overhead sign Jujutsu Tech feels imposing as though the genius loci of the school is telling you to turn back and leave; just like it did when you were a teenager, entering an unfamiliar world of unfathomable possibilities. The girl you used to be, afraid of what the future is bound to hold, could never imagine the respect and awe with which your name is spoken now. It's almost miraculous, really.

But there are more important things at hand than melancholy.

You sigh, pushing yourself to walk forward. The rock steps feel the same under your feet as they did years ago, the wooden floorboards inside the entry room still creak in the same note. For what it's worth, nothing about Jujutsu Tech seems any different than it did then.

Nothing.

You know very well he's sitting in the corner, staring at you. It's a habit he has picked up quite a long time ago - watching, observing, studying. He used to do that only to learn a few things about you and appear as charming as he possibly could. But with time this little unnerving habit stuck around.

At first, he looks laid-back. Overconfident, as he usually is. Although you know him a little too well and so you notice the way he's crossing his arms on his chest, his shoulders tense and raised. The greatest sorcerer in the world is nervous when in the presence of his high school sweetheart.

"Long time no see, Satoru," you finally speak up.

"You're even prettier than I remember," he answers, bothering to sound casual. He almost succeeds.

"And you're exactly the same, it seems."

You stare him up and down. The blindfold in place of sunglasses and the plain, black robes make him appear more professional. Still, Satoru's untamed white hair gives him a juvenile look. Maturity is supposed to arrive with age but perhaps the age arrived alone in his case.

Gojo sits further back on the old couch. He rests his hands behind his head. A half-grin curves his lips - the very same smile that always made you equally annoyed and weak in the knees. Truly, if Satoru wasn't as charming as he is, you'd have strangled him years ago.

"Ah," he sighs. "Perfection can't be improved."

Crossing your arms on your chest, you give him a playful look. "Then how come I'm supposedly prettier?"

Suddenly, Gojo leans forward. "Good question." He rubs his chin in faux thoughtfulness. You've learned better than to trust his little theatrics, no matter how amusing they are. "I never understood how this works. Just when I thought you're equal to a goddess, you make all of them look plain."

You feel your hands shaking. If your heart doesn't slow down soon, you might have a serious problem. As warm as your face gets, you hope the blush is not visible. How embarrassing to fall again for his wax poetic right away...

Trying to hide how flustered his words have made you, you force out a chuckle. "Gojo Satoru, always the sweet-talker, eh?"

Despite your best attempt at dismissing the entire situation, the man in front of you seems to have caught on to your bashfulness. After all those years, has he been craving to see you blushing and giggling again?

"If you keep saying my name like that, I might fall in love with you," he warns you half-heartedly.

The realization hits you at one moment. Something you've been suspecting, maybe hoping for even, has been proven right between his smooth talking and shaky breaths. Now that you think about it, it's all painfully obvious: how excited he seems to see you again, the immediate rush to dish out compliments and the rather poor attempt at appearing all suave and laid-back.

"You never fell out," you declare with undeniable certainty in your voice. "Did you?"

Something about the air changes instantly. The sparks of a maybe-rekindled romance have gone out, leaving both of you cold and distant towards each other.

Those few seconds of silence feel almost like hours. The quietness is ringing in your ears, pushing at your thoughts to say something. Anything! Just stop this suffocating unease from eating you alive.

This time, it's Gojo who breaks the silence first. "I stand by what I said back then: you're the one for me. It's either you or no one."

Fortunately, unforeseen aid comes almost immediately - before the tension between the two of you could choke you, a cacophony of teen voices, seemingly engaged in a loud feud, echoes throughout the building.

[flowerandblood]

The Lost Haven (2/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest but they were unaware children, the angst, woman on the rape pill, suicidal thoughts, therapy ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

The memory of that holiday haunted her for many years; a mixture of sadness, melancholy, regret and longing blended into one in her mind making her live in the past and present at the same time.

Although she had trouble remembering what she had been doing the day before, she remembered perfectly the expression on his face that day when Jace had taken his boxers from him – she saw the exact moment when he closed his eyes, heartbroken, and burst out sobbing like a small child.

Although he pretended to be an aloof boy who was unaffected by anything, in that moment his mask broke before her eyes showing how vulnerable he was.

The fact that he pushed her away after she helped him hurt her, but it didn't stop her from doing what she did next either.

"What is this? Are you still sleeping with the light on?" Jace asked, looking in her backpack for his book that he liked to read before bed.

She pressed her lips together, covering herself more tightly with the duvet.

"Yes." She muttered.

Jace snorted and shook his head.

"Only babies sleep with the light on. You need to get over your fear. You're already big." He said finally, unplugging her lamp, taking it with him.

"– n-no – I –" She whimpered, but her brother simply turned off the light and left her room.

"– you'll be fine –" He called out, and she hid under the duvet, panting heavily.

Her imagination always caused her clothes lying on the chair or various objects standing on the desk to remind her of disturbing, frightening shapes in the dark.

She was very afraid of them and of the fact that if she closed her eyes and just lay there, the monsters would slowly approach her until they devoured her.

She pulled the duvet slowly off her head and swallowed hard, seeing that the wardrobe was ajar, one of the long dresses spilling out of it like a glistening black ooze. She thought she heard a rustling sound and jumped when something hit the windowsill.

She thought she couldn't stand it – she burst out crying, pulled herself up and ran out of the room.

She didn't know where to go, afraid that if she complained to her mum about Jace he would later tease her even more or that worse, Rhaenyra would admit he was right.

That's why she stood in the corridor, terrified of being surrounded by darkness on all sides.

She walked to his door, knowing he would be furious, and opened it, breathing heavily – she heard him rise on his arms, his sleepy face with furrowed brows directed towards her.

"– Aemond? –" She mumbled, trying to calm her breathing. "– can I sleep with you? –"

"– you must be crazy –" He said impatiently.

"– they took away my little lamp – Jace said I'm already big and I can't sleep with the light on – but I'm so scared –" She confessed with shame, feeling like all those children who wet their bed in their sleep and had to wake their parents to change their sheets.

Her uncle looked at her for a long moment before giving in, agreeing reluctantly, threatening to kill her with his own hands if anyone found out. She climbed onto his bed with relief and, feeling the warmth of his body next to hers, slept peacefully that night and all the nights that followed.

Despite his initial frustration with her daily nightly visits, he eventually allowed her to read books with him or even cuddle with him.

She noticed that the fact that she didn't tease him like her brothers did made him calmer around her and therefore, in essence, nicer.

She liked the fact that he stopped avoiding her, taking her along on his expeditions – they searched in the sand for unique treasures: old coins, unusual stones or shells, cartridges and other objects of interest.

They invented their own missions and tasks, pretending they were great explorers of ancient temples hidden under the desert sands, and dug deep holes hoping to really find something.

Usually they discovered beer bottles, however, it was all about the whole process, not the result, pretending that traps, poisonous insects or great windstorms lurked everywhere to force them to turn back from their path.

She enjoyed the way he made her feel with him as if they were characters from a book or a film: as it usually happened, although typically the partners didn't like each other at first, later they became inseparable companions, and each new day was another episode of the series in which they played leading roles.

"Have you ever had a boyfriend?" He asked her one day, walking side by side with her by the sea shore – they were just returning from an expedition where she had found lots of beautiful, large shells in which she believed mermaids' songs were enchanted.

She wanted very much to be a mermaid and hoped they would help her succeed.

However, his question turned her thoughts away from the matter, making her heart beat harder in her chest.

"No. And you?" She asked, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. Her uncle pressed his lips together, looking everywhere but at her.

"No."

They were silent for a long moment, embarrassed to be talking about such unusually adult matters.

She wondered if he wanted to ask her for advice on some amorous matter, to make her help him win the heart of the girl he secretly fancied, and she felt a twinge in her stomach at the thought.

"And would you like to have one? A boyfriend, I mean." He asked further, startling her. She blinked, looking at him with amusement.

What was he getting at with these questions?

"Well. It depends if I would like him." She said truthfully.

"Do you like me?" He muttered, and she giggled, feeling a pleasant, warm sensation spread through her heart.

"Yes."

"So?"

"What are you asking?"

She saw him press his lips together, clearly not wanting to appear a fool if there was a misunderstanding between them.

She thought she would take pity on him.

"I can be your girlfriend, but that will mean I get to hold your hand sometimes or give you a kiss." She said warmly.

Her uncle looked at her, his eyes shining in hope, embarrassment and disbelief. He hummed, pondering her words, terrified and excited at the same time.

"…but only when we're alone." He muttered.

"Alright."

Later that night he kissed her for the first time and did so repeatedly for many days afterwards.

His lips were pleasant to the touch, warm and moist, his hands touching her face full of delicacy and tenderness.

Years later, she realised that their kisses were a simple pressing of one lips against the other, without finesse or tongues, the way one would kiss an aunt or a mother on the cheek. There was nothing ambiguous about them – it was just that adults did it too, and it made them both feel more mature.

And then he came to her, pale, and although they had arranged another trip, neither of them had gone to the beach that day.

"– I'm breaking up with you –"

She shook her head, feeling her heart stop for a moment.

"– but –"

"– you're my niece – you can't be my girlfriend – sleep with your brother or your mum tonight –"

She blinked, looking at him in disbelief, feeling the cold sweat on her back, her throat squeezed tight while her eyes filled with burning tears of disappointment.

He had deceived her, used her, played with her to frustrate her brothers.

And then Luke hit him on the head with a bottle, and its shards smashed into his face. As Aemond and Alicent drove to the hospital, her grandfather, Viserys told her mother to return home.

"– it was an unfortunate accident, but it would be better if you left sooner – your presence will only make things worse, Alicent needs to cool off –" He said, her brother, Luke, as she did, sat on the couch and was shaking, whooping with tears.

Despite her desperate pleas and her attempt to escape, her parents locked her in the car saying it was better that way and drove off, without goodbye, without explanation, without compensation.

All the way home she cried, clutching in her hand a piece of paper with his phone number on it, which she found slipped under the door of her room that same morning.

She spent the next few weeks pretty much just crying and sleeping, refusing to eat or drink, feeling that her life was over before it really began.

The boy who broke her heart had been hurt by her family and she didn't know how she was ever going to look him in the face at the family table again.

It turned out that her mother had simply only been in contact with her grandfather from then on, saying that perhaps it would be better that way.

That maybe this would separate them from this world.

At the time, she didn't understand what she meant.

The first text message she sent him was when she overheard her brothers talking, saying that her uncle would now have an artificial eye like a terminator.

The sense of guilt and regret that he was left alone with this didn't give her peace that night, and although she hadn't slept with the light on for a long time, she liked to imagine with her eyes closed that he was lying next to her.

It calmed her down.

She took her phone in her hand, chose his number in her contacts and began to text everything that was on her heart.

But he never wrote her back even though she sent him hundreds of messages: ones about her daily life, what she was doing, reading or listening to.

She send him Christmas and birthday wishes, asked about his health, how he was doing at school, but never got any response from him.

Many times she thought about calling him, but she still kept the card he had left her, which said under his number:

CALL ONLY IN A LIFE-THREATENING EMERGENCY.

She was afraid that if she called him saying that she simply missed him, she would anger him even more. Her parents no longer spent Christmas with his family, and after her father was shot dead, presumably for trying to escape the mafia life, she completely broke down.

Her mother decided to send her to therapy when she started high school.

She remembered clearly the smell of that clinic and the doctor who sat in front of her: a middle-aged man with round glasses on his nose, his voice calm and quiet, full of patience and understanding.

All around them were plants in pots and it made her feel a little cosier.

"Tell me about the friend you mentioned to me on your last visit." He started and she pressed her lips together, feeling cold sweat on her back and discomfort in her chest.

She was afraid to tell him what they had done, who he was.

She was afraid of his appraising gaze, of the fact that he would think she was disgusting.

"He was… my uncle."

The doctor corrected his glasses on his nose, intrigued and concerned at the same time.

"How old was he then?"

"He's two years older than me."

"Oh. I see." The man smiled, as if with a kind of relief that surprised her. She grunted quietly, twisting in her seat.

"He really is my uncle. My mother's brother from the second marriage."

"I understand, however, your age has surely made you treat each other more like cousins. Am I wrong?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"No."

"You said that when your brother took your lamp, he let you sleep in his bed. Something happened then?" He continued and she shook her head, horrified at what he might have implied.

"N-no. I… we just slept next to each other. Sometimes I'd cuddle up to his arm or his back when I was scared. It made him angry that I was coming to him, but he felt sorry for me."

The man nodded in understanding and smiled.

"You felt safe with him."

"Yes." She confessed with shame, looking down at her hands, feeling her heart in her throat.

"Are you two still friends? Are you two supportive of each other?"

She pressed her lips together, feeling tears burning under her eyelids, unable to get the words out for a moment.

She couldn't even look him in the eye.

"No."

"Why? What happened?"

"He lost his eye because of my brother."

"Does he blame you for that?"

"No…I mean. God." She muttered, burying her face in her hands, feeling like she was about to vomit or pass out.

This had been weighing on her heart for too long.

She needed to confide in someone.

"He, during that holiday… he asked if I would become his girlfriend. We kissed. Fuck! I didn't know about it, neither of us knew we shouldn't do it! That it was wrong, that we were too closely related." She exhaled with difficulty, finally bursting out crying, feeling hot, overpowering shame flowing in waves through her body.

The doctor raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"How long were you two together?" He asked.

She wiped her red cheeks with her palm, trying to calm and focus.

"A few days. Maybe a week."

"Why did you stop being together?"

"Because he broke up with me. He told me we couldn't be together." She mumbled, feeling like a complete idiot. "It wasn't until later that I realised what he'd found out, what incest was and what we'd done."

"There is a seeker nature in children. They watch adults and want to behave like them. Until their parents introduce them to the rules of the world it seems to them that the world doesn't have them. Even more so when it comes to social norms. Neither you nor your friend knew at the time that such relationships were not universally accepted. Up to that point you were family to each other, but also girlfriend and boyfriend. Looking at a child's decisions from an adult's perspective is ineffective."

He explained, making her, for some reason, feel better. She looked at him and shook her head.

"It's just… he was close to me. He was a good looking boy. He was kind to me. I felt safe with him. He didn't want to take advantage of me, I know that."

"So why are you creating a situation in your mind that what you did was the result of your premeditation when neither of you knew then what you know now?"

He asked, and she remained silent, not knowing what to answer him.

"It's just… ever since then I've felt a constant, heavy, overwhelming shame, crushing me like a stone." She muttered without strength, feeling that she had probably expressed the core of her feelings in this.

The man nodded at her words.

"It's natural. Shame accompanies us as a regulator of decency in our lives. I once read about a theory that God, when he banished Adam and Eve from paradise, did not make them bare: they were like that, they just realised their nakedness, and original sin made them feel shame for the first time. It is shame and fear of punishment that make us not walk naked in the street, that we guard our intimacy."

On the bus ride home, she reflected deeply on his words, feeling as if she had awoken, as if her senses had sharpened, allowing her to see the world again as it was.

She realised that all her life she had been punishing herself for feeling something for him and that it felt good, even though some part of her was telling her that she should be disgusted with herself.

She decided to forgive herself.

She felt much better and even started dating, trying to forget what had happened, to create a relationship that wasn't stigmatised.

Although she was smiling, she resented herself for looking at those boys, hearing the sound of the sea in the back of her head, his voice coming to her as if from afar.

I'm afraid of monsters too.

Everything changed when one day she received a message that made her heart stop.

She had no idea what she should be thinking: only a year after her father's death, her mother had begun dating Daemon, who had at first frightened her, and although Rhaenyra had said she wanted to end with the mafia half-world, the man she had married shortly afterwards had drawn them even deeper into it.

Daemon was an unpredictable and dangerous man, but loyal to his principles, his family and above all – her mother.

In some strange way, incomprehensible to her, they truly loved each other.

What she appreciated about his character was that he gave her and her brothers a choice: he said he did not intend to condemn them to sink into his world, but if they chose to go their own way, they were to devote themselves to study and education.

She and Luke chose to study, but Jace, to her and her mother's despair, wanted to be like him.

They eventually moved into his large house on the outskirts of the city together with his daughters from his first marriage – at first it was quite strange and awkward, even more so when they ate all together, but then Baela and Rhaena opened up to her, becoming, in her eyes, part of her family.

Daemon could sense when she was lying: he would then look at her with furrowed brows and say that he wanted to talk to her in private, which always made her heart pound like crazy with fear.

She was genuinely scared of him.

"I know you're hiding something inside. I can feel it and I don't like the fact that you're not being honest with me." He said coldly, taking a drag on his cigarette, standing with her in the garden.

She lowered her gaze, pale, not knowing what to answer him.

"I won't play your father, but I can see that you are lost. You isolate yourself, you rarely see your friends, you're still studying. You're trying to wait out your youth instead of living it and you'll regret it one day."

She couldn't describe how much his words hurt her.

They hurt her because he saw right through her and described her life in a few simple words.

You're trying to wait out your youth instead of living it.

It sounded better than the thought that she had no desire to live at all.

She felt that something had been missing inside her since that holiday, some part of her heart had been ripped out and thrown into the sea, and she felt defective, her interior filled with an emptiness.

Despite being surrounded by many people, she was lonely.

For a long time she wondered what to make of the message she had received: its tone made it seem as if there was something she and her siblings had not been told about her father's death.

She feared it was some sort of mafia hijacking, a trap for Daemon and one of her brothers – she decided she would tell Baela where she was going so that if she didn't return someone would start looking for her.

"Heavenly Beach? It's a dangerous place. I'll go with you." She said, concerned.

"No. I was supposed to come alone. It's just… if I'm not back by three o'clock wake up Daemon and tell him where I am."

"Do you have your pocket knife?"

"Yes."

She told Daemon and her mother that she was going to a friend's for a sleepover: the frustrated look on her stepfather's face told her that he didn't believe her, but apparently even he, knowing her nature, didn't suspect what she wanted to do.

Heavenly Beach belonged to his rival.

To her father's brother, Larys Strong.

She arrived by taxi, surprised at how large crowds stood waiting to enter the club. She wondered if she should wait in line with them, but after a while her phone vibrated and she got another message from an unknown number.

So she did, and the broad, bulky man told her to open her backpack and show him what she had inside.

She thanked God that she had hidden her pocket knife in her bra.

The man nodded for her to follow him and together they went down the stairs to the underground consisting of several large rooms in which music was booming, the flashing coloured lights around her made her feel as if she had gone blind. She swallowed hard, spotting her uncle in one of the VIP boxes.

Larys Strong had indeed greeted her with a bouquet of roses.

The thought that he was the one she would be talking to reassured her, and that was her mistake.

"I'm very glad you came. Sit down, please." He said softly, his smile warm and welcoming while his hand pointed to the other side of the couch, a safe distance away. She smiled too and sat down where he indicated to her, sighing in relief.

"Forgive me for only contacting you now, but this matter keeps me awake. I know you are the most cautious of your siblings, which is why I preferred not to take the risk and invite your brothers. I fear they would take it badly and it could lead to some…complications." He said, making her feel an unpleasant squeeze in her stomach.

"What do you mean?"

"I'll get to that in a moment. But first, let's order something to drink. Would you like a vodka and coke?" He asked, and she shook her head quickly.

"No, thank you, I don't want anything." She muttered.

Larys nodded at a man standing nearby, who approached him after a moment.

"Ned, get me a whisky and a glass of water for this young lady." He said calmly. The man nodded and disappeared after a moment, heading towards the large bar behind her.

"Back on topic: I am in a very difficult situation. Unfortunately, the person who was involved in his death is also a close associate of mine, which makes everything very complicated. However, I believe that my brother deserves for at least one of his children to know the truth." He said, getting serious suddenly, and she listened to him in suspense, horrified.

"Otto Hightower ordered his murder. Harwin was still snooping around, looking for hooks on them, even thinking of co-operating with the police."

She stared at him dully, feeling a complete void in her mind.

Otto Hightower had ordered his murder.

What?

As the man placed a glass of water in front of her and a whisky in front of her uncle her mind was in a state of complete panic. It made her forget what Daemon and her father had always told her.

Never drink anything that has not been poured into a glass in your presence.

"Easy. I know this is difficult for you. You have to be careful with these people, they are dangerous. Drink some water, it will help." He said, and for some reason she listened to him, grabbing the glass, taking a few deep sips from it, feeling that she was trembling all over from nerves.

Viserys's associate was her father's murderer.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" She muttered, closing her eyes for a moment, feeling strange, as if her head was spinning.

"You have to be careful. Anyone who enters this world once will never leave it again. Don't try to cooperate with the police." He replied with a smile, his tone slightly changed, as if what he saw before him and her reaction pleased him.

It seemed to her that the music around her had begun to quiet, as if it was coming from far away, she tried to focus her thoughts but was unable to.

The cold sweat of terror and fear ran down her neck as she realised what had happened.

What she had done.

"I'm sorry, I feel sick from what I heard. I'm going to go… to the toilet." She muttered, getting up from her seat with difficulty and walked ahead towards the sign she could see from afar.

She was dizzy as if she had drunk ten shots, the burning tears of despair making her barely see where she was going.

The light in the bathroom almost blinded her – she locked herself in one of the cabins and slumped to her knees, breathing heavily, pulling her phone out of her backpack, thinking with horror that if she called Daemon and Jace and they raised hell in here, they might shoot them.

She needed to call someone they wouldn't hurt and then it dawned on her.

Aemond.

Call only in a life-threatening emergency.

The screen of her phone seemed blurry to her as she struggled to type in her code and began searching for his number in her contacts. When she finally saw his name she clicked on it and put the phone to her ear, leaning her head against the wall, feeling the cold tiles under her buttocks, the female voices coming from behind the door seemed to her to be just a dream.

"– please – please, please, please –" She muttered, hearing that there was a signal, that he hadn't thrown or blocked that card.

She swallowed hard when the sound silenced and she heard a noise on the other side.

"– Aemond? –" She mumbled in a trembling voice feeling tears of terror, helplessness and fear run down her face, her body numb and heavy.

"– what is it? –" She heard his voice, cold and matter-of-fact, and although he sounded very different from when they were children, a wave of heat and a familiar, pleasant sensation she hadn't felt in years ran through her body.

"– G-God – they must have – they must have put something into my drink –" She cried out, bursting into sobs, thinking about the fact that she was about to lose consciousness and they would do whatever they wanted to her and her body.

Daemon warned her.

Never lie to me.

"– what? – fuck – where are you? –" She heard his voice as if in the distance.

She furrowed her brow, forgetting for a moment who she was talking to, where she was, and what she wanted to do.

"– Rhaenys – focus – fucking speak to me –"

"– I – mmm – I don't know – I think... – ...I think I'm in the toilet –" She muttered finally, looking around her thinking that indeed, this room looked like a toilet.

She felt that she was very tired and just wanted to sleep.

"– in what toilet? – in the club? –" He asked further, his voice sounding as if he was furious.

She closed her eyes, muttering something under her breath, feeling her mind drifting away and remembered that she had seen palm trees before entering this place.

"– yes – in the... – ...club – like... – ...one... – ...with palm trees –" She muttered, and then her mind enveloped in complete darkness.

She thought she felt the touch of someone's hand, heard someone's voice, but she wasn't sure if it was a dream or reality.

When she woke up, she was blinded by the light – she hissed and covered her face, only realising after a moment that she was lying in her bed, in Daemon's house. When she turned her face she saw her stepfather sitting in a chair, looking at her with eyes she knew well.

He was furious.

"I asked you. I thought you were a smarter girl, but you are clearly just a plain, naive idiot." He hissed, as usual saying exactly what he was thinking.

She pressed her lips together, feeling pain in her heart at his words, realising that she had a huge black hole in her memory.

"What happened?"

"You called Aemond. They could have raped you there, and instead of calling me you called the person who could have helped them." He scoffed, raising his voice, annoyed.

"He was here?"

"And how do you think you got here? That you were brought here by a fairy?" He sneered, and she swallowed hard, looking at him with wide eyes.

Even though she should have felt horror at what had happened to her, all she could think about was feeling his hand, hearing his voice.

And then she remembered.

His voice.

His words.

You don't even know how many real monsters lurk in its shadows.

[sissylittlefeather]

Kink Madness: Round 5

Food Play vs Temperature Play

This one is scorching hot. Hold on to your butts 😂

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, obviously sensory play, also Elvis is a bit sad in one and the other one is straight porn

Food Play: Army Elvis

Elvis has been moping around for over a week now. You don't mind it at all; he has been through an awful lot lately with losing his mama and being shipped off to Germany. And his emotional complexity is one of the reasons you love him. But still, it hurts to see him so sad. You wrack your brain for something to do to cheer him up.

You've been seeing each other for a few weeks now and you are infinitely grateful that your father made you learn English. Otherwise, there would be a language barrier between you and he might not have even noticed you. Hell, you wouldn't have even been in that press conference where you met. You've got a pretty thick accent and sometimes you use German words when you can't find the right English one, but he's drawn to you nonetheless. In truth, you're his favorite thing about being overseas. So, despite his melancholy, he's happy to knock on the door of your apartment one Friday evening.

“Hey, honey, it's me.” You try your best to wipe the flour off of you and go to open the door.

“Hi, Elvis!” You hold it so that he can walk inside, but he looks you up and down first, a slow smile tugging at his lips.

“You're covered in flour. What you been up to, doll?” He kisses your cheek and then moves into the apartment. As he makes his way in, he's hit by a smell that immediately transports him back to some familiar memory. “What is that?”

You try again to brush some of the flour off of your hands and run back into the kitchen. He follows you curiously.

“I made something for you.” You gesture to the dish cooling on the countertop. It's a bit of a mess, sticky and warm, but it looks okay considering it's your first time making it.

“Is that–? Honey, did you make me a cobbler?” You nod excitedly, thrilled that he could recognize it. “Peach! The cookbook said it was a southern dessert.”

He looks at you incredulously, his eyes a little shiny. “You found an American cookbook?”

“Ja! It was in a little shop a few streets over. I know you've been homesick, so I wanted to make something to remind you of home. Is it okay?” He grins and then grabs you, picking you up and spinning you around the tiny kitchen.

“Is it okay?! Honey, it's amazing!” He sets your feet back on the ground and then cradles your cheek in his big palm. “You did this just for me?”

You look up at him and nod. “Mhmm.”

“You're somethin’ else, doll. Thank you.” He leans forward and kisses your lips softly. Up until now, he hadn't thought of this as more than just a fling to pass the time while he's here, but this, this is a girlfriend gesture and it's not lost on him. “Can we try it?”

“Jawohl!” He settles at the table while you grab a small plate and something to serve with. You scoop out a piece for him and set it in front of him, sitting down next to him. He smiles at you again and shakes his head as he takes a bite. When he gets it to his mouth, he moans and closes his eyes. “Is good, ja?”

“Honey, it's incredible. I swear this is the same recipe my mama used to make.” He eats the whole serving, making small grunts and moans of pleasure as he does. By the end of it, his laughter is contagious and he looks like a little kid on his birthday. “Can I have more?”

“I made it for you. You can have it all!” You serve him another piece, but this time you accidentally stick your thumb in the syrup. Before you can wipe it on your apron, he grabs your hand and pops it in his mouth, sucking lightly. You gasp a little with the sensation of his mouth on you. He's kissed you a lot and touched you a few times, but you haven't slept together. And this gesture feels deeply intimate.

“Elvis…” He turns your hand over and kisses your palm.

“You don't want any cobbler?” He murmurs against your hand.

“I-I-I made it for you…”

“And I can eat it how I want?” There's a glint of mischief in his eyes that shoots straight to your core like a lightning bolt.

“I suppose…” You watch as he dips his finger in the sticky peach syrup and then drags a line of it down the inside of your forearm. Then, he licks the line of sweetness from your skin and you whimper.

“Mmm. You might taste better than the peaches, honey. Can I have more of you?” You nod and he pulls you into his lap. This isn't your first time with a man, but this is him and you tremble a little with anticipation as he captures your lips in a deep kiss. The sugar from the cobbler is on his tongue and he tastes even better than usual.

You're not quite sure how it happens, but in minutes he has you stripped down and laid out on the dining table for him, the dish of cobbler next to you. He dips the tip of his middle finger in the stickiness and then rubs it on one of your nipples. It's warm, but not as warm as his mouth as he leans forward and licks you clean. He does it again with the other side and you arch your back and moan.

“Taste so good, baby.” He gets more of the syrup and drags it across your belly, quickly licking it from you again. The sensation of his tongue on your body has you dripping wet with the thought of it in other places. But he doesn't stop. He keeps sweeping syrup across your skin and licking it off, moving around your body until you have goosebumps and your nipples are so hard they almost hurt. “God, look at you. You're so damn beautiful like this. I could just eat you up. In fact, I think I will.”

He picks up the spoon from his plate and fills it with the sticky sweetness, dribbling it on your inner thigh. When he leans in to lick it off, he's so close to your center that your pussy clenches around nothing. “Oh God, Elvis…”

Then, he does the same thing on the other side, his tongue making languid circles on your skin. “I bet you're sweeter than this pie, baby. You want me to find out?”

You nod frantically and spread your legs a little wider, giving him a delicious view of your glistening slit. “Goddamn, doll. That's pretty.”

And then he leans forward and pushes his tongue in as deep as it'll go, his nose pressed against your clit. You bite your fist as he groans into you, pulling back a little to lick around your hardened bud. “I was right.”

“Don't stop!” He chuckles and gives you a small salute.

“Yes ma'am.” And then he dives back in, licking and sucking you with his whole mouth. He devours you like a man starved and it feels so good you could die. You feel the walls of your orgasm closing in and your legs start to shake. “Good girl. Cum for me. Let me have all that sweetness.”

“Oh fuck, Elvis!” You grab the front of his hair and grind your hips into his face as the waves crest and break inside you, your pussy contracting on his tongue. He keeps licking you all the way until you're so sensitive that you start to giggle. His lips and chin are shiny when he stands up and looks down at you all limp and fucked out on the table.

His cock is aching where it presses against his uniform pants and he rubs it gingerly through them. You notice what he's doing and meet his eyes. “Yes. Please.”

That's all it takes for him to quickly unzip his pants, pull out his throbbing dick, settle your ankles on his shoulders, and then sink into you. Your eyes cross with being filled so well and he groans deeply. “Fuck, honey, that's so good.”

He pulls back and then rolls forward again and again, fucking you deep and slow. The head of his cock bumps up against your g-spot with each thrust and you feel another orgasm gather in your belly. He starts to move a little faster, slamming into you with more intensity. Your second climax hits you like a freight train and you pulse around him. “I'm gonna cum, doll. Oh god. Fuck!”

He pulls out of you at the last second and pumps his release out onto your belly. When he finishes, he stumbles backwards into a chair and you lay on the table trying to get your bearings back. He sighs deeply and you sit up a little to look at him.

“Honey, that was the best damn cobbler I've ever had.”

“Me too.”

“You didn't eat any of it.” He laughs.

“Didn't need to.”

“Can I stay?” You look at him and his expression changes. It's not quite sadness, but it's deeper than the mirth from a few seconds before.

“Of course. Why?” He's never stayed with you before.

“I just need a little home tonight and you, well, you feel like home now, honey.” He stands up and pulls you into his arms, kissing the top of your head.

“Then you can stay as long as you like.”

“Thank you, baby.”

******

Temperature Play: TTWII Elvis

Elvis walks into the cool suite after rehearsal with his silk shirt stuck to his back from sweat. It's August in the desert and hot is an understatement. He looks around the room for you, but you're nowhere to be found. Finally, he finds you on the patio laid out on a lounge chair, skin slick with sweat as you sit in your bikini trying to get a tan. Before he walks to you, though, he grabs a bucket, fills it with ice, and plops a bottle of champagne in it, holding two glasses with his other hand. He doesn't normally drink, but today was good and he wants to celebrate.

“It's a million degrees out here, honey. You tryin’ to cook yourself?” You startle a bit at the sound of his voice and cover your eyes to look up at him.

“You know I like to be tan. It is hot though. Almost too hot.”

“Wanna cool off?” He holds up the bucket and the champagne glasses before settling next to you on the chair.

“Oooh yes, please!” You hold out your hand for a glass and he sets the other one on the table with the ice bucket. He pops the bottle open and then lifts it over to you to fill your glass, but it drips icy water onto your stomach and you gasp. “Oh shit, that's cold!”

He laughs and finishes filling your glass. You take a sip and he eyes you from behind his sunglasses. “Just how hot are you, doll?”

“Pretty damn hot, Elvis. Why?” The corners of his lips curl up into a wicked smile and he takes your champagne glass, setting it on the table next to his. He dips his hand into the ice bucket and pulls out a small cube. “I know you don't think you're gonna–”

Before you can finish the sentence, he starts to slide the ice around on your chest, pulling your top out of the way to drag it around your nipple. You gasp again, “fuck, that is cold!”

“Oh, I'm sorry, baby.” He leans forward and warms your icy bud with his tongue. But he doesn't stop with the ice cube. He keeps sliding it around on your skin, heating you back up with his mouth afterwards. You whimper and gasp and moan as he works your body, moving further and further down towards your center. The cube has melted fully, so he uses both hands to slide your bottoms off.

“What are you up to now?”

“You trust me?”

“Always.” He smiles and fishes out another piece of ice, this time slipping it into his mouth. Then, he presses his lips to your thighs, the cold sensation making you shiver as he approaches your slit. You arch into him when he finally makes it there, dragging his cold tongue up and down.

And then he does the unthinkable. He pushes the piece of ice, now small and soft, up into you with his tongue.

“Oh, fuck, Elvis!” Your pussy clenches around the cube and the feeling of it threatens to overwhelm you.

“Hold it in there ‘til I make you cum.”

“Jesus. Fuck.” Your knuckles go white as you grip the edges of the lounge chair while he dives into you, licking and sucking on your clit. You can feel the ice slowly melting and it's like he's teasing you from the inside out. You whimper and moan as he eats you, moving his tongue in slow, lazy circles over your hardened bud. “Mmmm it's too much!”

“No it's not, baby. Just cum for me.”

“Oh God, oh God, oh God…” He licks hard and fast over you now, desperate to push you over the edge. “Fuck!”

When your orgasm crashes into you, it feels like the ice runs in your veins out to your extremities and back again and it feels so good you almost scream. He pushes a finger inside you to make sure the ice is melted and groans.

“Get on top.” You quickly rearrange so that he's sitting in the chair and then unzip his pants. His cock springs free, hard and aching, and you don't hesitate to line up and sink down onto him. “Goddamn baby, your pussy is cold.”

“I told you!”

“Fuck, but she's squeezing me so good.” He growls into your neck as he grabs your hips and starts to move you up and down on his dick. You reach back and grab an ice cube and hold it to your lips. Then, you lean forward and press your lips to the skin just below his ear. He gasps a little and starts to move you even faster on his lap. You pop the ice cube into your mouth and kiss him deep and he groans. The desert sun on your skin is the perfect contrast for where you're icy cold and the sensation of both at once pushes you to the edge of another orgasm. He rips the straps of your bikini down and presses his cold lips to your breasts again, murmuring against your nipple, “Cum with me, honey.”

You roll your hips against him hard and he reaches down to rub your clit while you ride him. It's just enough to drive you into your release and you moan loudly as your body shudders and pulses around him. He grunts and holds you still, letting your pussy milk his climax from him.

“Fuck, that's good baby.” His breath is still a little cold from the last ice cube as he pants against your skin. You collapse on his chest, shaking and sweating as you both try to steady your heart rates. “You cold?”

“Little bit.” He grins at you mischievously.

“Let's go inside, then. I've got a warm bath and some hot wax candles with your name on them.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Honey, do I look like a man who would joke about a thing like that?” You move to stand up off of him and he grabs you and holds you tighter, whispering in your ear. “You know I'll always give you what you need.”

“You really, really do.”

*******

Taglist:

@ccab @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb @everythingelvispresley @returntopresley @searchingforgravity @msamarican @angschrof @lustnhim @librababe99 @hooked-on-elvis @theelvisprincess @makethemorning @peaceloveelvis @mrspresley69 @pxpresley @kxnnxy @angelriley222 @iloveelvis2 @epletsplayhouse

[hoiststowline]

mindless touches & other sentiments + envy/jeaousy hc's [hoist edition!]

[a/n: all thanks to @drabbletron ‘s wonderful idea to put ‘em both together🫶]

hoist is probably the number one offender of mindless touches, certainly someone who doesn't realize he's doing it at all. he's not even vaguely aware of the fact he's drawing circles across your back, just an immediate reaction upon coming in arms reach to his s/o. it's meant to be a comforting gesture for both you and himself, it eases the tension from your shoulders the same way it relaxes his frame. it's also the sort of thing that could put you right to sleep, with how soft and gentle his motions are, its a soothing action of endearment. hoist probably doesn't register your sleepiness until he catches your poorly stifled yawns, though they still escape you anyways. it's a calming touch, yet an entrancing one too.

he isn't a chatterbox, but he's one of the most earnest listeners. hoist can remember something you said two weeks ago, offering up the information nonchalantly as if he just happened to commit it to memory. no big deal. yet, the way you look at him with a mix of utter shock and impressiveness makes his voicebox hitch. anything you say in conversation with him, casually or not, he's listening. hoist is all but too familiar with the feeling of inattentiveness, and wants his s/o to feel that they could tell him anything and everything. he's very observant as well, noticing and picking up on all of your nuisances. there's no use in trying to pull a fast one on him, he can tell straight away if you're being dishonest, whether it be how you're feeling health-wise or emotionally.

hoist instantly smiles whenever he sees his s/o. you can't see it, nobody does, but it's a change of demeanor that is rather potent, at least to him. he is just so genuinely happy to see his s/o, particularly after a long day or a period of time spent apart. hoist has come to enjoy short acts of affection, hugs especially. casual pda is more his speed, mostly things similar to light touches, primarily to your arm or a knee. it's come to be a wordless and silent conversation, tapping at each other until he hits a ticklish spot. then you're laughing until your cheeks hurt and hoist is too enthralled by your laughter to stop.

-

a jealous hoist does exist, but it is stored so far into his psyche that he mistakes it for being inadequate. he's felt a loneliness and disconnect for a long time, so seeing his s/o interact in a friendly manner with others, it takes a while to process privately. he would never call anybody out on it, it's self-brooding that buries him until he simply cannot take it anymore. it's internal conflict, hoist knows his s/o and is confident as well as fully aware that nothing is occurring. but even that inner reassurance sometimes isn't enough, fearful he's watching someone he loves so dearly slip through his fingers at an unstoppable rate. it's a temporary blindness, the uneasy thoughts never last very long, but they do arrive unannounced.

once he brings it up with his s/o, he realizes it's jealousy after it's all said aloud. it's alarmingly childish and he can't believe he hadn't perceived it sooner, or else he would have brushed it off and never bothered you with it. hoist fully comprehends he has nothing to be intimidated by, but there is always that notion that nags him that he isn't good enough for you. that there's someone out there that deserves you and all your wonderful attributes, that he's only weighing you down. you don't take to that kindly, hopeful to ease his melancholy by any means necessary. envy is a feeling so closely associated with inferiority, principally among his peers. to feel and to be someones first choice is such a overwhelming but wonderful sensation, filled with so much love. after talking it through, he can understand why such discontent arose, but is now better suited it combat it.

[sveetbabied0ll]

i’m a big girl now but the little me who sat all by herself on the swing set still lingers. working my big girl job and suddenly a wave of bittersweet melancholy hits me. the same feeling i got whenever little me would sit alone by herself on the school bus, gazing out the window wondering what was going to happen. cooking dinner as a young woman but feeling the same way i did when i was eight and playing silently with my dolls, not knowing why i didn’t feel okay. someone raises their voice and i feel the same way i did when little me heard her father yell and insult and emotionally abuse her for the first time. not knowing why i’m in a different period of my life now but baby me who tried so hard to make friends, who felt embarrassed when she had to wear lace frilly socks with her ballet flats to school, who felt big me’s depression in advance still talks to me. i didn’t realize little me felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, too.