#this has been sitting in my writing journal for about a year | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hoshigray · 5 months ago

Note

I love your work so much and it makes me feel a certain way <33 BUTT im here to request something that I've been looking for 🤞🏽

Toji x Fan-Fiction-Writer ! Reader? I'll get on my knees if required 🫶🏽

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐃𝐢𝐜(𝐤)𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧!! | tōji fushiguro

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You know, some things are just not meant to be shared, such as fanfiction writing. And how the hell did your boyfriend, of all people, come to be the one to question you about your hobbies? You tell me, you dirty little writer…

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem fanfic writer! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! - the reader is mid/late 20s; Toji's in his mid-30s - humor - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (licking, sucking and swiping) - deep impact position - degradation (slut, whore) - use of "Daddy" title - praise + humiliation - spitting - cervix fucking - little bit of rough sex - unprotected sex (psa: wrap the willy; don't be silly) - pet names (baby, cupcake, good girl, mama, princess, sweetheart, sweetie) - aftercare; taking a bath together - usage of a phone; erotic literature/writing - Toji teasing you to no end, the bastard, lol - reader wears glasses cuz why not, hehe - mention of drool/spit.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k (bless up)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: bro. this idea cooked so bad, i just HAD to make a fic for it, lmao!! apologies for doing this months late, hope I did the prompt justice, and ty for loving my works~☆

“Nooo, stop, Toji, give it back!”

“Hold on, baby, hold on…Phew, who knew ya liked wrtin’ dirty shit like this? The fuck is ‘pet play—’”

“Oh my God, stop it!”

This had to be, undoubtedly, the worst day of your life.

If there’s one thing every human being on Earth has in common, it’s their love for the weekends. They’re amazing — have two whole days to retreat and relinquish the turmoil and stress after five days straight. They’re the days when you can choose whichever activity you want to enjoy your leisure.

Some people catch up on sleep, others watch a show or try to cook up a new dish, and some go outside and hang out with friends. But then there are those weekdays where it’s satisfying enough to spend your day inside the comfort of your home, delighting in a hobby.

The hobby you chose to indulge in this weekend was writing. And right at this moment, you regret it being the activity you selected.

Why? For one, it wasn’t just any type of writing, like journalling or poetry. No, no; if it were, things would be easier for you to deal with now. Nope, it was fan fiction writing. The type of writing you’ve known since middle school and decided to jump in and try for about a year. What started as a curiosity turned out to be a hobby that took up your infatuation to the maximum level: writing pieces every night, taking up requests from your following over six thousand followers, and serving as an outlet to project your fantasies onto the Internet.

What type of fantasies, you might ask? The type you read in a room by yourself or in the corner away from prying eyes, under a blanket with your phone exhibiting the dark secrets that corrupt your mind, or the type that only could be accepted on the Internet and not from the judgmental looks of those in the real world.

But, most certainly, not the type of fantasies you wanted your boyfriend to see!

“Toji, please, give my computer back!”

“Nah, hold on; I wanna see this…Oh, what a title; ‘Fuck Me, Rail Me, Use Me, Daddy—‘“

“TOJI, STOP!”

Perhaps writing fan fiction with your boyfriend occupying your apartment wasn’t the best idea. But you wanted to get a draft don’t by the end of this weekend, and you were almost done with it. You were typing up a storm in your bedroom, sitting at your desk while your man, Toji Fushiguro, was doing at-home exercises in your living room.

And you could’ve sworn you had locked your computer before going to the bathroom. All you know is that after flushing and washing your hands, you opened your bedroom door to a horrifying sight: Toji, sweaty from his routine in his sweats and wife beater, holding up your laptop that showed the exact draft that you were working on! No, no, NO! You almost tripped dashing to take the device, but the older man was too quick and effortlessly dodged your attempts while still reading the material. And now you know why you are hopping around your room trying to catch the man and stop him from reading more of your stuff.

Spoiler alert: your efforts were beyond futile, huffing and puffing in complete defeat on your bed. Your boyfriend was sitting beside you, still reading aloud while scrolling through your drafts, to your dismay. Your ears and cheeks harbored an unbearable heat that you could cry at any second, and you covered your face in case it were to happen. God, please kill me now!

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, how many of these shits have you written?” Toji inquires, his forest green eyes scanning every draft as if the list were endless. “How long have you been doin’ this?”

“For…a while.” You can barely muster the confidence to utter an adequate response. How could I have forgotten to lock my damn computer?!

“How long’s a while?”

“Uhhh, a…a year?”

The silence was pinching your skin enough, but you don’t know if you preferred it over the next thing he said. “Wow, who would’ve thought my sweet angel was a dirty lil’ thing writing filth like this?” Oh, you wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. You can practically sense the smirk on his stupid, handsome face, pulling the scar off his lip! And it hurts your being that he laughs at you grabbing a pillow to scream into oblivion. “What a horny minx.”

You removed the pillow to tell him off. “It’s not all my fault! Most of those aren’t even my ideas; some of my followers asked me to write—“

“Followers?” God, would it have killed you to shut up? “So you got people readin’ your stuff?”

Downcast eyes to avoid his surveying ones, “W–Well, yes…People like how I write, so I…..Write whatever they ask me.”

“Oh, wow,” raven eyebrows lift while looking at the screen, flipping through the notes of your drafts to your blog with your completed works. “So over a hundred freaks like how freaky you write.”

“Hey, d–don’t say it like that!”

“Oh really?” You didn’t like how he said that, nor when he pulled up one of your drafts to read. “… ’You spread your legs on instinct as she sucks on your chest, and the woman takes the initiative by sliding a hand down to your—‘“

“Stop, stop, STOP!” You sit upright and try again to take the computer away from him, but Toji swiftly moves to the bedroom floor. Fuck! It was hopeless, so you groan in exasperation. “Quit it, Toji; you had your fun, so give it back!”

He didn’t think so; finding something new about you made him curious to no bounds. And for it to be a bit of a suggestive side of you? Oh, how ashamed you were of him finding this out tickled him. “Damn, there’s so much on here…Have you ever written ‘bout shit we’ve done?”

You couldn’t believe he asked you that question — you couldn’t believe you were in this situation at all! Are you serious ”—ly asking me that?!?”

“I’m not hearin’ a ‘yes’ or ‘no.’” Now, this is just diving into a more profound level of embarrassment than you could handle. “Did’ya?”

“……………yes.”

“Wait, fr’ real?! Which ones?”

“I’m not telling you! Just give me my laptop—“

“Hell nah,” his elbow is strong enough to keep you at bay—how pathetic on your part being treated like a kid. “I’m curious to see what my lil’ sweetheart is tellin’ strangers ‘bout how we do our business—“

“I’m not telling them anything!!” You retort. “I-I just use our experience as a means of…references when I’m writing,” thumbs find themselves fidgeting together. “It…It helps when I don’t know how to describe a feeling, or….what it’s like during certain…..positions.” Was the room getting stuffy, or were you shrinking under the growing pressure of every word coming out of your mouth? Who knows.

“Is there stuff y’ve written before that you’d like fr’ us to try?” Oh, for fuck’s sake, this was too much, bringing your –his– hoodie up to shield you from this predicament. And it only worsens when he stares your way, having you close up the hoodie by the drawstrings and collapse to his shoulder. Toji chuckles at your routing self, wrapping an arm around you. “Can’t even be honest fr’ a second.”

“Toji, pleaseeee,” whining doesn’t help, the older man moving the laptop out of your lazy attempt to retrieve it. “Give it baaack…!”

“Nnm, nnm, don’t wanna,” he places the device away to the ground and takes your hand with his. “Now I gotta read what weird shit you’ve been keepin’ ‘way from me.”

You shake your head frantically. “Please don’t! Don’t you think you’ve tormented me enough today?”

“Now, why would I ever get tired of fucking with ya?” The smirk on his face is still present after you open the hoodie to sneak a glare. “Shoulda thought ‘bout that and locked y’r laptop screen.”

“You’re such a fucking asshole…” his laugh at your words only proves your point, and you bury your face in his chest. This entire thing was so outrageous. How in the world were you this dumb enough not to double-check to make sure your computer was locked from prying eyes? What an amateurish move! Not even your closest friends know that you write fanfiction, so to have your boyfriend be the one to not only find out but bombard you with questions about your secret hobby is nothing short of humiliating. It can’t get any worse than this…

…Or so you thought.

“Hey,” you perk up to look at Toji. “You said ya got followers askin’ ya what they want you to write, right?” You nod meekly, twirling your thumbs with the bottom of your shirt. “Show me some.”

Appalled, you gawk, “Wh–why would I—”

“I know you have favorites from the hundreds I’ve been looking at for the past five minutes. So, are ya gonna show ‘em to me, or am I gonna have to read every single one to find out?”He didn’t show interest in returning the laptop to you even after asking the question. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, baby; I bet ya can look it up on y’r phone or somethin’.”

Your pout deepens in defeat as you begrudgingly stuff a hand inside the pocket of your leggings to pull out your phone to click on an app. Your thumb clicks and scrolls for a few seconds before you peer to him and say, “…I do have some favorites.”

Jesus, it hurt to admit that to someone, especially with your him of all people, who is without a doubt getting an absolute kick out of this, the fucking bastard! This was beyond embarrassing; nothing could ever top this moment. Indeed, there is nothing else he could have done that could have made this predicament any worse than it already is. At least that’s what you tell yourself to cope because Toji’s grin on his face says otherwise. And what he says afterward makes your blood shift to ice.

“Why don’t ya read ‘em to me.”

Yup, you were killing yourself tonight.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Go on; read that short one fr’ me.”

“Ahh—…Hahhh, ‘Sitting here and thinking…about your faves…Mmmm.”

For some reason, this felt so. Fucking. Wrong!

You already knew it was a bad idea for you to read your works to your boyfriend at his request. However, to be fulfilling said wish in this manner? The mortification had your ears ringing a thousandfold.

How would you have foreseen this yourself, face stuffed to the pillow with your phone held up by your right hand with your legs spread up and your bottom propped up? Who the hell reads like this?! And on top of that, your boyfriend is alongside you, his body behind you. The inability to see what he’s doing arises uneasiness in the soul, quivers sneaking up as you feel the rough pads of his fingertips greet the skin of your ass after sneaking inside the oversized hoodie.

Breath hitches at the slide of your panties, coming down for his hands to grope the flesh wholly. “To..ji…” his name leaves in shakes.

“C’mon, baby,” you swallow thickly at the cupping of your chasm. Toji chuckles at the twitch felt on his palm, “Read it properly, yeah? Word for word.”

Oh, fuck, your brows trench together. “T…’Thinking about your faves pleasing you from behind. He knows he has to tease you a bit—Tmmm,” his lightly hits your butt. “‘B-By massaging your ass with his strong hands,” he does so, kneading your ass skillfully that has you involuntarily purring to his touch. “…’Keeping you still and relaxed so he can later feel you with his fingers and—“ his forefinger and middle slowly come from your clit to the entrance, biting your lips. “Nhhmm, hahhh.”

“Go on,” Toji scolds, the middle digit sliding up and down with a faint push. Your back quakes to the touch, fingers gripping the pillow. “What else is y’r fav doing?”

You inhale. “Mmmm…’and circle one of them around to warm you up—‘“ spit gulped down again when Toji’s digit did the exact thing as told. “‘And then, when he knows you’re ready for him, he sneaks them insi—‘ Aaaiiii!” His middle finger is shoved into your vagina, and your toes instantly curl before he pushes the rest ever so slowly. “Oh! Ohhh, fuck…’He…then comes to your shoulder and says to your ear to make you tingle…”

“…’Stay still, sweetie,’” woah. You were not expecting that; you were too focused on trying to read your words, and Toji bending to your ear to read his part wasn’t noticed at all. You only hope he didn’t catch the clasp of your vaginal walls around his finger (he most definitely did), hoping the soft chortle meant nothing. “‘Gonna let me make y’ feel good, yeah?’” Jesus Christ, his gruff voice relayed this so intimately to your eardrums that your heart was beating too hard.

Toji’s finger goes faster, nearly having you almost drop your phone. Your face smooshes to the pillow from the scrape of his fingertip, biting on the pillowcase as he puts in the other finger. He whispers to your ear to keep going; unbelievable…So you lift your head and try. “J-J…’Just thinking about how easy he could make you cum—Mmmph! Wi-With his fingersss…scratching and rubbing your insides so precisely until you’re practically begging to mess his hand up’…”

“Oh, fr’ real?” The perk of his tone makes you anxious. “Well, don’ mind if I do.”

The pace of his ring and middle finger increase, and you gasp sharply. The onslaught of rubs to your inner channel is enough to have your lower half writhe despite Toji keeping your legs grounded with his single one. Oh, fucking Christ, your glasses up to your smooshed cheeks the more you try to conceal your cries, proven to be trivial as the seconds go by.

“Aww, whaddaya think y’re doin’?” He coos with a kiss to your nape; you nearly shut down. His free hand takes your phone, “Tryin’ to hide that cute voice of y’rs from me? Fuck that,” he then removes his digits from your chasm as you yelp and makes you flip to your back. Oh, fuck no! Your hands go to cover your face—nope, Toji is quick to move them away. “Lemme see you, mama…Now, let’s see what else you should read fr’ me.” He swipes your phone screen, “This too wordy, this long as fuck—goddamn, baby; you writin’ whole ass novels or somethin’?”

“Shut up,” you reply as your legs move, and Toji’s left hand removes your undies.

“Ah, this one!” He hands you back your cellular device. Your eyes catch the first sentence, and your face morphs into dread before staring back at him to meet his grin. “Go ‘head,” he says cooly, spreading your legs by the knees.

“…’Picture this: your favorite coming to your room and seeing you on your bed and striding to you to taste you,” you inhale deeply at the blow of air on your wet southern folds. “‘He crawls up to you while you’re busy scrolling on the phone, busying himself with placing kisses to your stomach and down to your undies. He’ll then take them off and spread your legs for him, greeting your privates with his ton’—Ghhh…!” Toji licks your slit leisurely; you gulp at the muscle perching between the lips of your labia. “Hahhh, shit…’The smell and taste of you are so inviting he can barely keep it together, virtually inching to stuff his face with your pussy. He kisses it, lips petting your clit,’” he does so, and you chew your bottom lip. “‘Then his tongue goes excruciatingly slow to e-explore your folds,” your exhale is shaky as Toji’s tongue laps and swirls; fuck, I can’t do this…

The older man, on the other hand, flips a switch and goes to town. You knew this was a bad idea; if there’s one thing Toji loved doing more than fucking your cunt, it’s eating it out. He pushes your legs up by the knees for easier access, the angle perfect for him to propel his mouth onto your entrance. You shriek, his nose frequently grinding the hood of your cunt as his scarred lips and tongue suck and lick you feverishly.

“—Tahhh! Ohhhshit, no…!” You cry, throwing your head back to the pillow. “Ahhnn, Tojiii, stop…not too fast—Oooh!”

He spits, mixing his saliva with your slick as he laves. “Mmmph, shit, taste ’o good,” Toji pushes his face further as he sucks on your clit, and you nearly choke on your sob. “Yeah, yeah, let ‘em out; scream like a real whore.” You jerk, but his hands firmly keep you down. “Keep goin’, cupcake, finish y’r reading.”

“Khhh, God, I can’t,” you gulp when emerald eyes peer toward you. “…’Before long, he’s too overwhelmed by you that he can’t take it anymore, stuffing his face between your legs and having you cry out his name in prayers—your phone is no longer a priority.’” Jesus, you can hear his grunts along with the lascivious sounds coming from below; he’s so fucking turned on. “‘Now he has your attention, playing with your…pussy like a toy just to hear you squeak.”

“Fuck yeah,” he groans as he sticks his fore and middle digits into you. Fingers go to and fro frantically, and your free hand grabs his raven hair. “Christ, y’ sound so fuckin’ hot. More, gimme more,” a long and harsh kiss to your clit makes you want to arch so bad. “Good girl, good fuckin’ girl…”

You hiss at the graze of your vagina; keeping your eyes open is hard to do. Lips go agape, and your noises fly out with no restraint. Your legs tremble, impending in a wish to close from the curl of Toji’s fingers. Your senses become too keen, your nerves heightening with every massage of your walls, lick and slurp of your slick and clit.

“Ohooo, nhhmm, fuck, Tojiiii,” another suck to your clit has you grip the sheets. “Stooop, please; I’m gonna cumm…!”

However, your boyfriend has another idea in his head. “Oh no, you don’t, princess,” his fingers leave you hurriedly with a squeal. He yanks for your phone once more to find yet another piece of yours for you to read, giving you so little time to recuperate. Until he scoffs with a smirk, “Ohh, read this one aloud next.”

You take the device returned to you cautiously, scanning the first few words that catch your eye. Curiosity snaps to apprehension, “W-wait, no, please!” Begging won’t work, but it doesn’t hurt to try. “Please, Toji, look for some—“

“Aht, aht,” the click of the tongue shuts you. “C’mon, sweetheart, that ain’t what y’re callin’ y’r fav right now.” He squeezes your thigh, “What’s my name?”

“Toji, pleas—“

“Mm, mm,” he pinches you, a warning. “Try again.”

Excitement Nervousness flicker through your soul, breathing tardily as you muster to answer. “Sorry…Daddy.” The title burnt your tongue when it left your mouth, and the smile lifted Toji’s scar even more.

“Good,” he praises. “Now read.”

“…One of my followers asked about writing a post about deep impact, so it’s—“

“Deep impact?” He questions while spreading your legs. “The hell’s that?”

“I-It’s a, uhh,” you push up your glasses. “A position where you…kinda, like, sit on one of my legs and lift the other to your shoulder.”

Black eyebrows rise. “Ohhh, somethin’ like this, huh?” Sturdy hands find your ankle and lift your leg to his shoulder, and Toji then moves to have your other leg in between his. Your lips flatten when the groin of his pants—aka, the pitched tent–touches your hole. He whistles, “Oh, now I got a new favorite to add fr’ later.” His words aren’t meant to jest, so you frown as he snickers. “Alright, what did you write for this?”

You lick your lips; why? Toji uses his free hand to bring his sweats down, not surprised by the lack of underwear as his erection springs out. His cock is standing and ready for you, the precum oozing out alluring your eyes and your lip bitten by excited teeth. Of course, your vagina is clenching to a void—anticipation is a hell of a drug affecting your entire figure.

“Don’t get too distracted, mama,” he caught you eyeing him, lifting the hem of his wife’s beater to bite down on. Your ears and cheeks scorched at the sight of his abs and torso. “Read those words.”

Your gaze flickers to your phone while Toji lines his dick to your entrance, a gulp at the kiss of his glans and your inner labia. “…’Daddy has you propped in a deep impact, a position catered to mutual pleasure and closeness. He taps you with the tip to have you excited, then slowly pushes himself into your—Mmfff!…y-your warmth,” reminding yourself to maintain a steady breath; Toji pushes his cockhead into your slick as you’re distracted. A few seconds fly by, and he slips right in; a gasp exiting your puffy lips indicates so. “‘H–He gently shoves every inch and stretches you out,’” his girth is lethal, your eyes rolling up the further his tip goes, scrapping your texture and your opening suiting for his length. “‘A-And, it feels so good to have him making you full and good’—Hoohh?!?”

That’s it, that’s what you were anxious about—you felt the jab of his tip on your cervix. You freeze instantly, too shocked to breathe as the hit was spontaneous. Your body locks down for a quick second to process what happened.

Toji notices your tightened grip and hisses, “Fffuuckin, shit…! So tight,” his hips go sluggish, and you feel his veins and shaft brush nicely with your insides. You sneak a glance at his flashed abdomen; the flex of his abs as he pushes his pelvis in waves is a sight to see–enough to put you in a trance.

You continue. “‘His hip work is pleasuring, having you wail and cry out f-for more…the sensation of Daddy’s dick venturing inside and hitting your sweet spots is enough to make your toes curl—Nhhaaa…”

He can sense you gripping on him more; fuck, it feels so good. His thrusts go a little faster, forming a minimal medium. You exhale through your nostrils at the change of pace, and grazes against your walls become periodic and long-lasting the deeper he goes.

“Daaah, ahhh, f-fuuck,” you whimper aloud. “Tojiii, y’ feel so g—Nnnmm!?!“ You nearly swallow your tongue from the sudden pound of him, the rub of your G-spot too abrupt to predict.

“Who?” God, you know he’s getting a good kick out of this, the fucker. He pushes his cock to the hilt, and it takes everything in your power not to babble from the overwhelming intensity.

“Daddy, daddyyy, don’t…!” Correcting yourself as his fingers dance around your unattended clit. “I’m sorry, you just feel so good..”

That’s more like it. “Good girl,” he bends closer, his knees spreading further apart. He pushes the leg on his shoulder so that the angle is plausible for him to rut harder. You shriek and squirm to his enjoyment, “Keep readin’.”

“‘Y-…You’re cries become more shameful the harder and faster he goes,” Toji stimulates for a harsher pound; another hit to your cervix has you winded. Despite your gasping for air, he doesn’t relent, and you jerk to undulate to another poke. “Sh-shiiit, Jesusss…! ‘He pistons so hard, so deep, it’s difficult even to think straight when all you can think is—‘“ a choked sob from a slow pull before a devious snap of the hips. “A-All you c–an think…Ahahh!” Another nudge to your G-spot; this is so hellish!

The culprit scoffs softly. “Think ‘bout what, baby?” He swipes and pinches your clit to have you jolt and whine. “Tell Daddy the rest.”

Fuck, I can’t take it anymore! The phone slips your hand, barely missing your head. “Daddyyy, I can’t!”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Another pinch to the bud pairs with a poke to your delicate womb. Oh, he’s such a dick! “Don’t wanna read fr’ me?” He chuckles aloud at you shaking your head ‘no’. “Why’s that?”

“C-Cuz, if you keep going, I’ll,” a head thrown back at another nip on your clitoris. “Ahh, I-I’ll…!” Shit, you can feel it, the climb rocking your bones to entail your soon climax.

“What? Ya wanna cum on Daddy’s dick instead of readin’ like a sweetheart,” don’t believe the words; his faux disappointment doesn’t match the merciless thrusts and the devilish grin. “Wanna act like a whole slut and cum on me?”

“Yesss, yes, pleasee!!” You don’t care anymore; you want to let it out. “Please, Daddyyy, I wanna cummm!!”

“Heh, what a nasty girl you are—Nnnmm! Fuck, just milkin’ me dry, beggin’ fr’ it, huh?” The same fingers he used to play with your clit come to your lips to shove inside, forcing you to taste yourself. “Go ‘head, mama; let y’rself go, be the slut you really are…Hahhh, shit, c’mere,” he grabs for both your wrists with his free hand after taking off your glasses and propels you towards him at the same time as he pounds. Holy fuck, this position was getting rougher, pulling you in and hitting your cervix with accurate hits that you’re whining and twitching. Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck! It’s too much, it’s all too much to bear, so it’s no wonder you climax in seconds.

You cry with the breach of your crescendo, your inner muscles contracting around the cock, hitting your womb. Your nerves are now peaked as the air is sensitive to your skin, and you feel so out of breath, everything happening all at once that you can’t keep up as you thank Toji in babbled prayers, still sucking on his fingers as your vagina flutters and coats him of your essence.

“Good job, cupcake,” he comes closer and removes his digits. “Can’t beat the real thing, right?” He cups and massages your cheeks before spitting into your mouth.

You don’t even flinch, too fucked out to even care, just moaning to his lips as he brings you in for a passionate kiss as his hips keep going until he’s done and satisfied…

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Ughhh, I can’t believe I just did that…”

“Pfft quit whinin’. Don’t act like ya didn’t enjoy it.”

“I hate you so fucking much, you know that?”

“Whatever y’ say, Ms. Novelist.” You grumble at the name before he brings the washcloth to wipe down your neck.

You and Toji were now in the bathroom, your nude bodies squished together, with the warm water cleansing you both. Hair and skin damp, your back meshed to his front as you sit between his legs. The soft yellow lighting basks the bathroom with a warm glow as you two bathe in relaxation, a needed state after the excitement prior.

You snatch the washcloth before Toji wipes your face clean off. “Why did you have to be so nosy, looking at my laptop for what?” You wipe his arm that rests on the rim of the tub.

He rolls his eyes, knowing he’s in for a lecture. “Well, if ya didn’t want me to see, shoulda locked the shit.”

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that you’re nosy as hell! Could’ve just looked somewhere else or left the room!”

“Hmph, well, when you see the words ‘Down and Dirty’ all bolded and big and see another tab with a pic of a rimjob, who wouldn’t stop—“

“Okay, okay!” It would be best if you threw the cloth at him for chortling; such an indecorous personality for someone supposedly older than you. “You’re insufferable.”

“Right back at you,” he whispers to your ear and kisses your cheek. You sigh softly from his lips, resting your head on his shoulder while he pecks your chin. The hand in the water finds your thigh to grope and massage, and you moan at the touch and unwind.

Tranquility fills the cozy space between you two as the silence settles in, the humid air comforting to your nose and eyes, and the drip of the faucet plucking into the tub water is a soothing sound to cajole you into a dormant plane.

However, even when relaxing, it doesn’t stop the bothersome feeling of asking Toji something. And where better than with you in his secure embrace? “Toji,” his name has him open an eye to look your way. “You don’t think I’m…weird, don’t you?”

He raises a brow. “Explain.”

“Like, don’t you find it weird that me, your partner, indulges in hobbies that are…you know, like that,” now your eyes trail away from his gaze. “Writing about fictional fantasies and such, looking up erotic material and stuff…”

A few seconds fly as he scoffs. “Baby, I’ve been lookin’ at porn way before I met you—“

“Th–That’s not what I meant??”

“Besides, it’s nothing more than just writin’ shit that doesn’t exist. Hmm, if anything, now I know y’re just as big of a pervert as I am.”

Anxiousness transitions to peeve. “You are so—“

“Do you like what you do?”

The question takes you aback; the immediate serious tone switch wasn’t expected. “…I..yeah.”

“Are ya hurtin’ anyone?”

“No…at least I don’t want to.”

“Are ya hurtin’ y’reself?” You see what he’s doing, the glint shining from his viridian orb.

“No. I…like this hobby.”

Finally, a small smile contorts that scar of his. “Then I don’t mind it. It’s what ya like to do, so do whatever, sweetie.” He comes to kiss your nose and rest his forehead with yours. “I like ya bein’ a lil’ weird anyway.”

“Jackass…” And there you go, falling in love with him again. You cup his cheek, kiss the other, and repose onto his shoulder with a blissful sigh.

“Now,” you blink back to him. “Can’t lie, think you gotta start callin’ me ‘Daddy’ from now on,” like a scratched record, your heart stops, especially with his mischievous smirk. “Where can I read the rest of y’r stuff at?”

“That’s it,” you ignore his annoying bark of laughter as you try to squirm out of his hold. “Let me out of here, get me out of this fucking tub.”

“Haha, hey, quit it; y’re spillin’ the water!”

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sh1-n0bu · 22 days ago

Text

i have noticed a small pattern of elves being on my latest fictional character obsessions and HEAR ME OUT!!

elf who has lived for hundreds upon thousands of years, who had experienced many of the things the world has to offer. sadness of bidding hundreds of farewells to the beauty of life and alliance of different races

elf who even after all his years of living still yet to find a love for himself. regal and seemingly detached to the concepts of relationships elves may be, even they get lonely. some nights feeling a little bit too long, a little bit too cold as they add another layer of blanket over themselves or reaching over to hug one of his puffy pillows like how he would hug his future lover. the coldness of being immortal seeping into his bones and making him shiver despite elves being above the concept of getting sick or feeling the cold temperatures

elf who runs into you by some chance meeting. maybe you were walking in the territory of elves without knowing it, maybe he purposely goes to human residences and towns, seeking adventure, excitement and change of pace. who immediately is enamored by you just by your smile that you flash his way, a kind one, a gentle one, to a nearby passenger. who falls in love with the callouses of your hand, the freckles, the small scars, the little bits of imperfection that marked you as clearly human, very much mortal, very much brittle but still with your own strength that he hasn’t felt before

elf bf who starts to court you the moment he realizes that you weren’t seeing anyone, bringing small gifts, exchanging knowledge, singing you soft ancient lullabies that no other mortal has ever heard before. maybe he finds himself writing a poem about you one day, describing your looks, your feelings, your everyday actions that you may see as mundane but ones he sees as just as courageous and beautiful in their own ways

elf bf who has never seen human flesh or bare skin before, finding the rippling biceps and toned legs of yours to be… curious. a tentative finger touching the muscles here and there, stopping you mid work as he inquires about them in a soft tone. elves of course were magical beings, blessed with magic and eternity and had no need to develop visible physical muscles till the point they become buff or beefy to some extent all due to their magic and ancient powers. the tips of his pointy ear twitching softly, eyes wide in wonder as you explain that contrary to his kin, your own develop muscles if they are put to work in physically demanding job for enough time

elf bf who over time, finds himself obsessively scribbling down any sort of new information about human anatomy on a journal, always asking you new things as he finds himself able to learn more despite having been alive for hundreds upon thousands of years. tracing the old faded scars on your body with the tip of his finger, counting the freckles, kissing the stretch marks as they were all you. regardless of how you see it, to him it was all you, together and healthy. you were alive even if you may have battle scars and he always makes sure to thank the stars as it was thanks to the tribulations you have conquered that you two were here now. staring eye to eye, touching your foreheads together as you whisper about mundane things

elf bf who one day sees you cut down a tree, cut a log off or prepare firewood and finds that he was imagining the bulge of your muscles against himself. big arms caging him in a bear hug, legs to support him and strong back that he could sink his nails into as he moans under you— hold. since when has his thoughts of you turned… impure? since when has he become turned on? sitting there on one of the logs with a painful strain against his pants as he swallowed the saliva that gathered in his jaw down, tearing his gaze away. no no, he really shouldn’t think of you as such, you were still in courting phase after all and elves were a race that took their romances and courting extremely important

yet regardless of his kin’s customs and traditions, your pretty elf bf couldn’t help but continue to stare. his gaze constantly seeking your figure out, seeing you just go through the motions of every life peacefully while he gets pathetically turned on by your actions as if he was still but a fledgling who learned of a kiss. chopping down trees for firewood, maybe you would work in front of a fire or heat for too long and get sweaty, removing one of the overtunics. maybe you’re just simply dragging a bucket full of water from the well, cranking the pulley as the muscles on your arms and back strained

elf bf who finds himself extremely aroused as his mind wanders to the gutters as he just shamelessly stares at your working form. oh, to feel those calloused hands touch his colder skin, palms smoothening over his creamy skin, and down his chest, his stomach and over his bulge. maybe you would tease the poor thing, tease him of how quick he is to get aroused, the pre of his half-hard cock weeping through his underwear and pants like he was some sore pathetic loser. a little virgin. bully him about being unable to use his cock, make him whine at your mean words as his hips weakly buckle under your exploratory hands

elf bf who couldn’t help but imagine the usual sweetness of your attitude gone, replaced by one that was just a tad bit meaner as you pushes his face down into the pillows of your bed, force his hands to stretch open his puckering hole for you to fuck senselessly. imagining you whispering all sorts of filth into his twitching ears, promising to breed him full, to use him to your heart’s content all night long as he whines and squeals like a little lamb caught in the nest of a hungry wolf. who couldn’t swallow down the quiet whimper coming from his throat as he imagined your hand grasping at his long locks, fisting it tightly as you yank him back, forcing him to arch his back and push the tip of your cock to bruise his guts even more

elf bf who waves off your worry when you had managed to hear the embarrassing noise that slipped past his lips, saying that he was having a bit of a sore throat. gods, he would love to actually whimper from having a sore throat of getting his mouth plowed all day by your fat cock head forcing his jaws wiiideee open

elf bf who couldn’t help but get a little needy in his kisses since then. hands that touched your muscles with curiosity now running over your skin as if trying to feebly seduce you. dropping things to the ground a bit too many times, following you close behind even as you told him that some of the work you needed to do required space and for him to be away for his own safety. who straddles your lap all snug, pushing his chest flush against your own as your simply daily evening kisses after dinner becomes a bit too heated. he definitely had little to no experience with the way his tongue kept licking at your lips meagerly, long fingers curling over your shoulders tightly while his bucking hips on your lap as he starts to get hard again

elf bf who has finally had enough of just his meager imaginations, tugging on the strings of your white tunic with shaky hands as he rambles about touching you, you touching him, feeling him, using him — anything dammit! use those hands of yours on him!

elf bf who soon realizes that he had perhaps bitten off more than he could chew when your hands grip at his hips, dragging his clothed cock against your thigh that had him whining like a cat in heat. meagerly, he tries to replicate what you just made him do, dragging his hips back and forth on your thigh but he all but just looks like an inexperienced bunny. which he probably was judging by the things he spoke to you about himself

elf bf who finds so much pleasure in simply grinding against your thigh for now, the precum of his now hard cock weeping through his pants, staining it into a darker color. all cute and red in the face that spread to his pointy ears, cute high pitched whines falling from his chewed up pink lips. a cute, surprised “a-aahn♡︎??” echoing in the room as you pull his eager body against your own. your chest to his back, hands loosely draped over the hip bone of his

elf bf who lets out the most embarrassing high pitched squeals when your hands travel up his body under his clothes, traveling more and more until teasing at his nipples. rolling your fingertips against the soft areola, squeezing and fondling his pecks as if they were breasts. who jolts in place when you pinch at the hardened buds, tugging at them to test the waters as he arches his back off of your chest, a filthy mewl falling as if he was being fucked stupid already

elf bf who blubbers out uncharacteristic words of “s-shensiitiivgh♡︎ n-no, don’t pinch the-eeengk♡︎♡︎!“ his pleads of your rough hands not torturing his sensitive nipples being replaced with an open mouthed wail when you place a kiss to the pointy tip of his ear. his ears were so sensitive! you knew that and now you were just being downright mean to him as you whisper filth into his ears of acting like a cooped up virgin for merely getting his chest played with. he wasn’t! he was way older than you! slurring out “how c-could you be sooh m-meanngk…♡︎?” as you lick a slow stripe up the pointy helix

elf bf who bucks his hips on your thigh, trying to bounce, trying to move away but ending up whining as his clothed cock grazes against your hardened muscles again. his cute nipples being tortured and groped by your hands, the delicate helix of his ears being assaulted by your wet kisses and licks. any time your hot breath spoke into his ears of how he was such a precious little thing, just like a bunny in heat, he would try to wiggle away. shaking his head with a weak sniffle, his mind churning into a mush as all he could do was to pathetically fuck his cock into your thigh, letting out a soft mewl everytime you buck your leg up to meet his shy excuse of thrusts, jumping in place

elf bf whose minds and body starts to feel weird. the room feeling stifling and your touch making his own skin heat up too much. who tries to tell you that he was feeling ‘odd’ and concerned, yet only to harshly thrust his hips back into your own arousal. eyes widening, a shudder running down his spine at the feeling. still clothed and hidden like his own but good grief, it just felt… so huge since he was sure your human dick couldn’t possibly be much bigger than his own. but no, it got him gulping down the saliva in his mouth

elf bf who bounces himself experimentally onto your own hardened, covered dick, feeling his balls brush against where he guesses is the tip of your strap. his earlier cute whines growing in volume as your torture of his sensitive spots grow worse, groping, squeezing, calling him too eager to get fucked, making him dumb and airheaded. the constant tugs to his chest, the words you spat into his mind so lovingly and the small actions of your hips thrusting up to meet his own weaker excuse of grinding

elf bf who’s voice grow more and more breathier, who finally loses it as he throws himself back against your chest, his head on your shoulder as he let out a wail of “h-hoowt!! t-too ahgg♡︎ haah anhg t-too hoounwt...♥︎!” as he cums into his pants, dirtying the material as a single glob or two of his sweet transparent arousal oozes out through the linen. the dark patch growing into a considerable size, his body racked with twitches and jolts as he cums untouched on your lap. precious little thing getting drunk on the feeling of sex and physical pleasure so much till the point he disregards all of his traditions, bending himself over onto the bed, his hand reaching back to tug you forward by the belt with a desperate whine and a cute blown wide pupils and twitching ears♡︎

⇨ meludir, lindir, legolas, maglor, mairon + whoever you like

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fuzzythoughtsblog · 2 months ago

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I had a fantasy that I went to a best friends sleep over and ended up reading her older sister's diary :

Truth or dare

My friend says to me. I look in her eyes and I know I can't choose truth. She'll will come up with the most vile secert to get out of me.

"Dare !" I spit out in fear

"I dare you to sneak in to my sisters room read her diary and report back. " she says with a smirk.

Fuck me I tell her that , she's so childish. And that were on break from college.

"To bad, you pick dare or are you pussy? " she retorts saying the one thing that would convince me to go.

I'm not scared of her sister. She's only a 6'7 grunge base player who is 3 years older. What there to be scared of? It's not like whenever I'm here she rolls her eyes and slams the door. It's not like she refuses to eat dinner with us. Yeah and she wasn't to scary when she yelled at us after sneaking out to a slutty Halloween party. Fuck she hates me and I'm about to sneak into her room.

I decided to just swallow my fear and go for it besides she's not even home she has a gig.

I creep to the basement where her room is. Slowly the fear begins to still as before I enter her room I see the walls covered in electric guitars. Every color and style I could imagine. I stop to admire all the other equipment she has records, picks, amps and even some Cassettes.

I let out a breathe of relief as open the door to her room and she isn't there. Now all I got to find is that damn book.

I first go to her night stand and begin to peer in. I taking a moment to process what I'm looking a, Lacy lingerie. Upon realizing its contents I quickly shut the drawer. Embarrassed I move on desperate to get this night over with. I look at the bottom drawer and am left starring. Toys so many toys in different shapes and sizes. But what left me shocked wasn't just the various toys. I mean were both adults.

It was the was the paddle. Wooden and bigger that my hand I wondered why she would have something like this. With stupid curiousity I lift it up to examine it. The paddle was in perfect condition, like it had never been used. The thing has hearts cut into it and says in big black bold letters "Scream". I begin to put it back but as I do to other items that it was hiding catch my eye. A pair of metal hand cuffs and a strap harness. I can't help but imagine who she's been using these on. At that thought I quickly put the items back in and close drawer.

If she doesn't hate me, she'll definitely hate me now. I went through her stuff and I hadn't even found the book. I sigh before moving over to the other night stand and open the drawer. This time though jackpot the book was sitting in plain sight. As I pick up the black leather book I curse myself for not looking through this one first.

For a second I hesitate, this is total over step of her boundaries. Besides I could just go back and lie that I read it. I decided that a good idea but as I'm about to put the book back I think about how I could figure out why she hates me. I ponder for a moment but I got to know what I did. I open the book.

It turns out the book is less of a diary and more of a shadow journal. I begin to flip until I find a page about me. The prompt reads " What is your toxic or most obsessive desire? "

Slowly I take in what she writes. "If I had a second alone with my sisters best friend I think I'd devour her. " my eyes stretch wide as I keep reading. "The things I want to do to her body are just ... I want to see her begging and crying under me. I want to punish her for being so damn tempting with those little skirts and short shorts."

I bite my lip but flip through more pages until I see something that mentions me. The prompt "What is a bad financial decisions you've made recently? " I can't help but lean closer while reading. " I was checking in on one of the local sex shops I frequent when I saw a cute little paddle. I couldn't help myself not when I imagine her below me pleading. I imagined pulling her hair and telling her to shut up and asking if she was a good girl. She said "yes daddy" and fuck did that just scratch the right itch in my brain. I told her then she needs to take her punishment like a good girl. Before laying down on her ass while she screamed and cried. Of course I gave my pretty girl kisses after I bit her ass. I have to remind her who she belongs to. And now I want to buy her a collar. "

I'm horrified by what I just read but I couldn't put the book down. I continued on. "What is the most fucked up fantasy you've had recently? " "I imagine her coming to my house and asking for my sister like always but this time I walk her to my sisters room even though she's not home. I lock the door behind her and get really close while she backs up. She looks so cute and she's wearing that tight purple dress she wears. I grab her and begin to kiss her while she pushes me away. I bite her lip and she crys into my mouth while I shove my tongue down her throat. She fights me as I throws her on the bed. But I'm stronger and able to hold her down. She begins to cry as I rip off that stupid fucking dress and kiss down her neck to her perfect tits.

I then slide my hand down to her pretty panties and rub her clit through the lace. She makes a noise and trys to squirm away which cause me to hit her. I tell her to be a good girl and this will all be over soon. She fucking whimpers but stops struggling. I continue to play with her cute clit till she soaks her panties. I whisper "see you want this." Before ripping her panties off of her. And sink a finger in. She's so fucking wet. I slide another finger in and then another. Till I'm three fingers deep. She makes the most beautiful noises while I take her apart on my hand. The more I take her the more wet and docile she becomes. I fuck her like this until she's dripping down her leg and begging me to stop. She pleads so cutely I can't help it. I pull down my pants revealing my biggest strap. Pushing it in while she just lies their limp like a perfect toy. I slam in and out of her taking both her virginities on her best friends bed. By the time I cum she's quivering and her cunt is unrecognizable. I take a picture and drag her to my room leaving her juices on my sisters bed. So the most fucked up fantasy I've ever had is raping my sister's best friend on her bed for hours and its reoccurring. I'd never do it of course I want her to enjoy and consent to it I'm not a monster it's just a fun fantasy. "

I begin to rub my legs together at that last one. I put the book back having had my fill when I see her sister standing right there in the door way causing me to scream.

She looks pissed and close the door and locks it behind her.

"How much did you read? "

"Nothing" I shout frozen to where I stand.

"Bullshit" she says stalking closer

"Just the crush thing and it's okay!" I say as she gets even closer.

"Lier"

"Okay I read the thing about the paddle but that's it!" I wince

She grabs my shoulders and looks at me. A chill run down my back. I flinch.

Squeaking out a "Please, don't!"

She sighs and let's go of me before sitting on the bed.

"You read the fantasy? "

I nodded slowly.

"The rape one. "

I nodded again

She sighs "Fuck, this is not how I wanted you find out! Actually I was hoping you'd never find out! "

She puts her hands on her head.

"Sit down, I'm not going to actually do any of that to you. "

I sit beside her. While she remains still before taking a deep breath in.

"So you read it, why? "

I meekly say "A dare"

"Fuck! It was my sister wasn't it? I'll kill her. "

I stay quite she knows the answer.

She sighs "So what do you want to ask me? And then I'm gonna ask you some questions, okay.

I nod.

" How long?" I ask

She breathes "Since your freshman year, of course I wasn't going to act on it. It's just, I thought I thought of you like another little sister and then I started watching out for you. Which turned into watching you and before I knew it I couldn't look away. "

"Is that why your we're mad at us on Halloween that one year ? "

"Are you kidding me? You were basically wearing lingerie. I mean a skimpy pink bunny suit, I know you were a senior but still what if someone tried something? And on top of all that you guys snuck out! You know I had to hide that from mom and dad so you could stick around. "

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, you looked... amazing. Look I don't just like you because of your body, I mean don't get me wrong it's a plus but I also love your laugh. How your the first one to try to help. Even when my sister started doing her project last minute you where there to help. I love the way you melt around animals and your stupid dance. I like you okay. Not just what you have to offer." She says while looking up at me and holding my check.

We're so close. I lean in to close the gap but she pulls away.

"Don't do that, don't give me a pitty kiss! "

I lean forward "I'm not, I just want to try this. "

Our lips finally connect and its like electricity I feel it from my head to the tips of my toes. I shiver we break apart to breathe then begin again. It feels amazing, but not close enough. I crawl closer until I'm sitting on her lap and kiss her while wrapping my arms around her neck. The kiss begins to get more and more dangerous as we go on. Her hand begin to wonder and grip. While I rock into her lap. Soon she breaks the kiss.

"Hey, I don't know if I'm getting mix signals but can I touch you? " she says with her pretty eyes.

I pause for a minute then get a sly idea "Yes, daddy! " I whisper into her ear.

"Fuck " she says before pressing me down to where my back touches her bed. "Who knew you'd be such a damn brat. " she says while kiss down on my neck

I whine as she bites my shoulder. "What's the matter ? You've never been touched like this? "

She lowers her hand down my skirt and begins to rub while I stutter "No, then again no ones touched me. "

She pause "What?"

"You guessed right. "

"Are you sure you want to do this because we don't have to. I can... " I quiet her

"I'm sure , I trust you. In fact I want you to do to me what you wrote about in your little book. Y'know the thing with the paddle. "

"Are you sure that's a little advanced. "

"I'm sure, do you not want to? "

"No I want to, fuck I want to" she says while reaching into the night stand.

"Good, how do you want me, daddy? "

"Fuck your going to be the death of me. Across my lap baby. "

I lay across her lap. And give a wiggle.

"Let's see, how many spanks? Maybe 4 spanks for your 4 years of teasing. Plus 3 for the 3 pages you read. Plus 5 for that slutty fucking costume that had me salivating for weeks. So 12.“

I whine

"Don't whine or I'll make it 15."

I stop.

" That's a good girl. " she says while ruffling my hair.

"Now we're going to use the stop light system, along with a safeword. Do you know how the stop light systems work and have a safeword in mind?"

"Yeah my safeword is rock. And the stop light systems works like red means stop, yellow slow down or change what your doing and green means keep going. "

"Correct, now I'm not going to be upset or disappointed if you safeword or want to stop okay. "

"Okay."

"Good now, count. "

The first hit stings

"One"

The second one burns

"Two"

The third positively aches

"Three"

The rest hurt but for some reason it leaves me feeling dizzy and so good.

"Twelve"

"Good girl are you, okay? "

"Yes."

"Okay how are you, are you okay to continue? "

I nod

"No girl I need a verbal answer what's your color? "

"Green, don't stop I want you to fuck me"

"Fuck, okay baby. " she says before digging in her drawer and strapping into her strap.

I flip around and spread my legs out and put my arms up.

"Wait babygirl, I have to make sure your prepped. " she says as she dips a cloused finger in while I whine

"Fuck baby your soaked. Did my girl like spankings that much? "

I nod

"Poor girls all layed out like a pretty little toy. "

I begin to moan as she adds another finger and begins pumping them in and out with her thumb on my clit. Then she goes fast and pumps in and out harder.

"I know baby it's so much, my fingers are so much for you. " she says while working me harder and harder until fuck... She stops.

"Not yet sweet heart, your gonna cum undone on my cock pretty girl. " she says as she pushes in slowly so slowly.

After bottoming out she waits a minute and I nod. After I nod she thrusts shallow slow thrusts. That feel amazing but leaves me wanting.

After a few minutes of that I grab her shoulders "Daddy, harder!"

"Fuck." She says while rolling her hips.

She lifts my legs up higher to my confusion before slamming in hard. The thrust again and again while I just take it letting her use my body.

"There you go baby. Sorry daddy though you wanted to fucked like a princess. I forgot how much of a slut you are. " she says while still pounding into me

And then she begins to rub my clit. It's so fuck much. Fuck I begin to cry and whine.

"That's it babygirl, cry on daddy's fucking dick" she begins rubbing my clit harder causing me to scream.

"Daddy, I don't want to get pregnant yet. " I say through dazzy tears

"Aww " she says while rubbing and thrust like she was trying to milk more nosies out of me "Don't worry baby you'll look so nice with my kids. "

I feel my body shake and arch and then everything thing goes limp. And my vision goes white. I hear a soft buzzing and for that moment I have no fucking idea what my name is.

"Comeback to me baby" she says my head barley follows her eyes

"Was it good? "

I nod

"Good." She says as she pulls out while I hiss. "It's okay. "

She then lays down beside me and holds me while I begin to come back down.

"You back? "

"Yeah" I say voice horsed

"Okay we'll put cream on you and clean you up later. Okay. "

I nod and cuddle closer

"Okay and baby you can not tell my sister yet. "

#wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw #sapphic ns/fw #lesbian ns/fw #lesbian smut #sapphic nsft #lesbian nsft #wlw noncon #wlw blog #cnc wlw #wlw breeding #wlw scenario

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earthtooz · 8 months ago

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baby, would i still be your lover?

fluff with angst, 1k words, gn!reader celebrates their bday bc it's my bday today, reader likes pearls, childhood friends to lovers (?), ooc!al-haitham, conflict and resolving it, al-haitham's grandmother is featured.

The best way to describe yours and al-Haitham's friendship is... unusual.

Having known him since childhood, you cannot say that he has changed much over the years. When your parents brought him to his grandmother's house to hopefully give the young boy a chance to socialise with something other than academic journals, befriending him was not easy.

He dodged all conversation you tried to make, ignored all attempts you made to play tag with him, completely evaded your childlike innocence. He always was more mature than everyone else his age, or rather, always acted like it.

Most unusually, he had an uncanny streak of pushing everyone out of his life, and you were not immune to the imaginary lashes he strikes, eventually removing yourself from his life too out of frustration.

At seventeen, when an unforeseen tension had lodged itself between you and al-Haitham, it deteriorated your friendship. One day, he had taken his opinions too far and sharpened his words too much, you left the House of Daena tearful and too wounded to see him for a while. It creates a distance between you two, one that lasts for three years.

At twenty, you visit al-Haitham's grandmother for the last time, and she makes you promise something. She pleads you to take care of her grandson, that for years, he has been hoping for the rekindling of your friendship, and she asks of you to make his wish come to fruition.

You reach out to him a month later on impulse. He invites you to dinner and drinks at Lambad's Tavern, and for the preceding week, it mentally drains you to think about being alone with him again.

He is already there when you arrive, sitting with crossed legs and arms at an empty booth. Showing up later than him gives you time to admire how he has grown. Now freshly turned twenty-one, time has served him well. He has grown into his sharp, taut features, and the way his grey hair falls accommodates his features well, and his build is impressive for a scholar. You've heard from others that he's graduated with the highest honours, and has already been offered a job at the Akademiya.

When the conversation begins, you're relieved to find out that nothing has changed from when you were both seventeen and fumbling teenagers.

As the only person who has stayed in his life since his youth, there is a bond that somehow cannot be severed. You apologise for what happened at seventeen, he does too.

As dinner passes, one thing becomes abundantly clear: al-Haitham does not need someone to 'take care of him' like his grandmother asked. What he did need, however, was his childhood friend that always knew how to push his buttons, and perhaps that was your way of 'caring' for him.

"Y/n." al-Haitham's broad figure looms over your desk, causing you to pause the scribble of words and numbers that you were in the midst of writing. "With your birthday coming in less than a month, I went to review our personal channel for gifts you'd like."

"Have you now?" You rest your chin on your hand, looking up at him through your lashes.

He completely ignores your question. "A sango pearl necklace? From Watatsumi Island? Is that your only desire?"

"I am easy to please," you shrug.

"Perhaps you misunderstand me. Is there no other gift that you'd appreciate?"

"Is a pearl necklace not possible?"

"One from Fontaine would be more achievable. Watatsumi Island, however, given our geographical distance and the fact that Inazuma is only just beginning to open up its transnational-"

"-So it's not possible? Even for the Grand Sage?"

"Acting Grand Sage, and whilst it is not impossible, I came to review with you possible alternatives for gift ideas that would provide the same marginal benefit."

"I suppose I could think of something else," you tap your chin. "One day I'll get my hands on those pearls, do you see the way they shine so clearly? You could use them just to fix your makeup! Cold to the touch and a clearer reflection are what make pearls high quality."

"How fascinating," he responds flatly and you pout. "In other news, it's lunch time now, and you promised you'd pay for my next meal at Lambad's."

You huff, compiling your papers together and clipping them together. "I was hoping you'd forget."

(As always, when the meal is said and done, he doesn't actually allow you to pay.)

A month later, when the clock strikes midnight on the day of your birthday, there is a series of knocks at your door. Unsurprisingly, you're greeted by al-Haitham's handsome face, now softer without the makeup he wears to enhance his features, but still beautiful nonetheless.

In his hands, he holds a gift.

"Happy birthday, Y/n." He declares, straight to the point, and hands you the box. "I hope it is to your liking."

The unassuming packaging only adds to your shocked delight when you see the contents inside.

"Sango pearls, from Watatsumi Island! You got me a necklace and bracelet set!" You squeal in pure excitement, treating the jewellery like fragile little things when you feel them. Cold to the touch, and you can see your reflection in them.

Pride shines in his eyes and a small smile pulls at his lips. He doesn't say anything except watch you freak out, satisfied with the hoops he had to jump through for this present.

"al-Haitham, I am so happy I could kiss you."

"I'd be happy to oblige."

The best way to describe yours and al-Haitham's relationship is unusual. You would do anything to get on his last nerve (without overstepping), and he would do anything for you.

#i have a dr ratio fic out too soon bc i want to celebrate my birthday with two academics apparently #alhaitham x reader #al-haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham fluff #al-haitham fluff #genshin x reader #alhaitham fic

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hysteria-things · 5 months ago

Text

✿ PROMISE? ✿ PART SIX.

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: chris x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and chris hang out after what feels like forever, and he finds something personal of yours under the bed. because he’s nosy, he can’t help but open it.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing, that should be it :)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,034

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: changing up some things…

(dividers by @strangergraphics)

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐈𝐍 disbelief, the nostalgia hitting him like a truck. nothing and he means nothing has changed about your house from when you guys were little. hell, there still was the wall by the doorway where it had your heights written in pencil. it faded throughout the years, but it’s still visible. his heart hurts when he realizes it stops at age ten.

the both of you talked as if you guys didn’t stop talking at all. “let’s chill out in my room.” you say, grabbing his hand and guiding him up the stairs.

although he was in here the other day, he didn’t get to really look around until now. your room captures you perfectly. you sigh, sitting down on the mattress that is filled with stuffed animals. you pat the spot next to you for him to take, and he does. “sorry if it’s messy.” you bite the inside of your mouth before speaking again. “now what? i was never a good host.”

“whatever you want to do.”

groaning, you get up and wipe your palms on your pants. “what i want to do is go pee. i’ll be right back.”

walking out of the room, you leave chris there alone. he rose himself off the bed and slowly walked around. he laughs to himself. he realized you became more comfortable with him again in the short hours you’ve been together, despite recent events. next to the closet door, there’s a bookshelf with a ton of books on it. the same bookshelf that was filled with dr. suess and harry potter. now, it’s filled with… interesting.

he leans down, reading the spines with furrowed brows. twisted games? the nanny? icebreaker?

stay curious for this one, chris.

next to the flatscreen TV on the wall, you have a lot of other stuff hanging up, one being your varsity award for volleyball. two pictures however stood out to him — besides the dinosaur with sunglasses painting you also have hung up. one of them is a polaroid of you and nate, recently took at the local fair. chris makes a face at that.

the other photo is of these two kids, roughly the age of seven. they look like twins; boy and girl. the rest of your family doesn’t live here, hence all of the pictures of them. because chris does nightly facebook searches to keep up, he noticed these are your cousin’s twins.

smiling softly, he thinks about how much you love your family. you’ve always been a family person, even if they aren’t here. he understands what that’s like. being in L.A. while everybody else is in boston sucks, but luckily they got a few months to be back home.

as he turns around to sit back down on the bed, he sees a notebook sticking out from under it. he doesn’t want to look through your belongings, but curiosity got the best of him. he bends over to pick it up and open it while lowering himself to sit down.

there is a note on the inside of the cover.

he skims through the pages to see how much you wrote and it is a good amount. he stops when the handwriting suddenly changes, meaning that you stopped writing for a while. the other entries had smudges on them except for the ones he landed on. this one must be new.

so, he started to read.

dear journal,

i’m sorry i ditched you for about a year and a half. i don't have an explanation for it, but lately, i’ve been itching to write. i remembered i had this journal - thanks to my cousin bethany for getting you for me for my 9th birthday. i know you’re an inanimate object, but i forgot how relaxing it is to write down my thoughts for nobody except myself.

i can’t help but cringe at what i wrote in the past, and i sincerely apologize.

“i can’t wait to marry kevin one day!”

“omg, he talked to me today!”

“i think we’re going to be together forever!”

i’m gagging just rethinking that moment. come on now.

anyway, life has been crazy lately. shoutout to the sturniolos for ditching me and acting like we didn’t grow up together! appreciate you guys for real. i’m exhausted.

the thing is, i always had trouble sleeping. i know i just said i’m exhausted, but it’s 3 AM and suddenly it feels like i’m wide awake. i just know i’m going to be grumpy for the next few days. a lot has happened ever since they left. i’ve changed, and i hate/love it at the same time.

i’ve been going out more, doing shit i shouldn’t. (don’t tell my parents…) something also happened a while ago that’s still a blur. i can’t put my finger on it. all i remember is that the police came to my door and asked me a ton of questions about somebody.

anyway, life has been happening too fast. i would appreciate it if it slows down a tad. on the upside, my mom said the rest of the family is coming here soon. i don’t know when, but soon. bethany would for sure be happy to hear i’ve started writing here again.

my thoughts are draining the second i write things on this paper, so i’m going to try and get sleep. i’ll update you whenever i can.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

me again: at approximately 4 AM. today has been something else, let me tell you. my mom came up to me yesterday and told me some unfortunate news. can you guess who’s back in town? if you guessed my lovely besties, you’re correct! and do you know whose birthday it is, meaning i have to go to the party? you’ve guessed it! my BFFs!

doesn’t help that i’m on my period right now. i can’t do this shit.

either way, i had to be there for nate. he’s the one that stuck around. marylou will forever be the original best friend in my opinion. she stuck around, too. it’s her children i got a bone to pick with. (except justin. he’s cool.)

seeing them in person for the first time in so long had me tweaking. i admit that i was a bitch to them at the party, and not to be a bitch now, but they deserved it. however, when i saw chris, my first thought was about how he’s such a cutie still. i hate my mind for that.

i tried to ignore them for the rest of the party, and it was semi-successful.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

you will not believe this. nick messaged me on instagram saying how sorry they were and asked to meet up at my house. for whatever reason, i said yes and they came over. we sort of cleared everything. key word, sort of.

they said they wanted me back in their life and apologized for what they did. i still need to give it time, but we do want to start hanging out again soon. i missed those dorks.

that’s until chris stopped me and asked for the note he wrote to me when we were little. the note he promised me to keep, and i obviously did. i’ll tape it here.

this little piece of paper is my favorite thing anybody ever gave to me.

- y/n

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

dear journal,

sorry, i left you hanging for a few days, a lot happened in such a short amount of time.

long story short, jaiden and claudia invited me to a party. chris texted me while i was there. he seemed a bit weirded out about why i was at finn yaw’s party, but i hope he knows i wasn’t there for any specific reason. i do appreciate that he cares about my well-being, even after the downfall.

i got home not long ago and he’s texting me as i’m writing this. he just asked me to hang out tomorrow which shocked me a little, but i said yes.

not going to lie, i’m excited to hang out with chris, even though i have no idea what we’re doing. hopefully, it goes well.

- y/n

chris snaps out of it as he hears you walking back into your room, making him shove the book back under the bed. he feels kind of honored to be a part of your little notebook. “sorry, that took longer than i wanted. i had to deal with something.” you say, sitting down on the bed with a sigh. you furrow your eyebrows at him. “why are you smiling like that?”

“smiling like what?”

“like… that,” you say, circling your finger that was pointing at his face.

“no reason.” he shrugs “anyway, what’s next on the y/n agenda?”

you look around the room while biting the inside of her cheek. “are you hungry? my dad made ribs last night and it’s to die for.”

jumping up from the bed, you motion him to follow you. you walk into the kitchen, flicking on the four light switches that are on the wall. you waltz over to the fridge and open it, going on your tippy toes to grab the container on the top shelf. “how many do you want?” you ask, going on your tippy toes once again to grab paper plates in the upper cabinet.

“three is fine. do you need help?”

you shake your head. “no, i got it.”

chris stands by the island that separates the kitchen from the dining room. he leans against it, watching you plop three ribs onto his plate and only one on yours. you take his plate in your hands and reach up to the microwave. you stick your tongue out and groan. you’re struggling because of how short you are since the microwave is on the wall above the oven.

“i got it.” he chuckles, grabbing the plate from your hand and sticking it in the microwave. his hand grazes the side of your arm as he puts in two minutes and presses start. you cross your arms without looking at him. “i could’ve gotten it.”

“yeah, right.”

sitting there for two minutes feels like ten before the microwave finally goes off. you start running to the microwave but he stops you. “i don’t want you to hurt yourself by reaching for it. i got it.”

he takes the plate out and feels a rib with his finger. he nods. “it’s good.”

“okay.” you say with a low tone. he looks towards you to see you staring at your rib that still lies cold on the plate. “what’s wrong?”

“i don’t think i want this anymore.” you quickly open the container, plop it back in, and stick it back in the fridge.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 sitting in your room, matt had to come pick his brother up. you and chris are currently standing on the front porch, having one last word with each other. matt is waiting in the van at the end of the stairs.

“it was nice hanging out with you again,” you say shyly. “we should get everybody back together soon.”

“i agree.” he smiles “i’m sure i’ll text you later.”

getting closer to him, you pull him into a hug. it was abrupt, but he hugged you back of course.

then, the horn of the van beeps causing you to jump and pull away. “can you hurry the fuck up? nick is waiting for us at home and is obnoxiously annoying. mom also made dinner.” matt screams from the window.

“i’ll see you around,” chris says, jogging down the stairs. he gets in the passenger seat and grabs the seat belt to strap himself in. matt waves to you, which you graciously return.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ✿ ⋆⁺₊⋆

𝐈𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐃𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 them to get home. they live close to your house, and the duration is no longer than five minutes. he takes off his shoes at the door as his phone vibrates from getting a text.

y/n😶‍🌫️

thanks for today

i had fun :)

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @raysmayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @hearrtsturns @stars4matt @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @catalina-island @mbsbaby @mattsdollie @pinkfarts @slut4mattsturn @thesturniolos @vickeyzloserz @nononopenono1 @bitchydragonparadise @gdsvhtwa @hrt-attack @bellasfavbisexual @dwntwn-strnlo @venusbabysblog @meerkatzthings @crazychrisl0v3r @maggieflms @strtuniolo @mutualsafe @riasturns @sturniolowhore @antpile00 @ashley9282828 @stingerayyy2 @sturnsjtop @luverboychris @yapperchris @imaslutforoldermen @madisonlovesyouu @poetatorturadaa @chr1sgirl4life @hiimolivia @jo-777 @sturnskiss @st4rgrlll @mattyblover07 @sm-ec @mattluvsmarni @knowingnothingnoel @mattsgirlfrieeend @bambi-slxt @sturnstvr @sturnclouds @bernardsbendystraws

#[ ✿ ] promise?#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo fluff

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allfortheslay25 · 2 months ago

Note

In an au where milo has siblings that aren't Maya and Ollie, what would they be like and how would it affect the canon lore in miloverse?

Finally, I can answer this ask✨

Sorry for the long wait, I ended up pretty busy with my job and was backed up with loads of asks (I don’t like mixing my doodles unless it’s just one or two but I had HUNDREDS of asks about All for the fish and decided to just pick through and answer as many as I dared)

Anyways! For Other Kids AU (aka separate ‘what if’ AUs where the Foxes have other or more kids)

Ofc I thought of more andreil kids. What do you take me for? The aftg brainrot is my disease✋😔

⚠️ this is not canon to We’ll Both Be Fine or Milo’s main story in general. This is a what if situation ⚠️

Admittedly, they could have been canon but andreil didn’t care about having more children. Milo was enough for them.

The first kid is Connie (Conner David) born 2011. Andrew and Neil decide not to deletus the fetus and so Connie is born. It is actually Nicky who gets to name him :)

Milo is very happy and emotional about having a little brother and tries to involve himself in every second of his life. They grow up very close, Connie looking up to Milo a bit.

Connie likes writing, cookies with jam, and spring

Dislikes conflict, chewing gum, and his freckled eyes (has eye nevus)

Second are the twins, Honey (Miela Marie) and Niko (Nicholas Nolan) both born 2014. Very simple decision from andreil that since Connie went well, why not test fate? And then they had twins who tried to make their lives hell. Andreil let the Foxes brainstorm names and send their best picks for andreil to choose through before narrowing it down to six (three if it’s a girl and three if it’s a boy) (they didn’t know it’d be twins) and let the foxes make a unanimous decision. The foxes decided on Nolan for a boy and Miela for a girl. Andrew and Neil ended up naming the boy Nicholas (Nicky cried about it for days) and gave Miela the middle name Marie after Abby.

Although Milo loves his new siblings, the twins are very hard to deal with and whine to him about every thing instead of andreil. The kids are also a bit air headed and tend to be hurtful without meaning to. When Milo goes to college, he finds out that they replace him with Connie who takes care of them as if they were his kids. (Admittedly, they love Connie more and it hurts Milo’s feelings)

Honey likes apiculture, traveling, food

Dislikes sitting still, sharing her things, being told what to do

Niko likes sports, napping, living life to the fullest

Dislikes being active (when it’s not sports), alcohol, explaining himself (he can’t)

Old concept designs when I was first making them

Some facts:

- Honey and Niko don’t consider Milo their brother but not in a malicious way. In their weird minds, he’s too old and different (however, they consider him family the same way Nicky, Aaron, Kevin, and Robin are)

- Honey lives with Nicky and Erik in Germany. She goes to school there

- Connie briefly lived with Stuart in the UK for two years, studying literature and journalism

- Niko doesn’t like playing exy but he goes pro as a hockey player since it’s similar

- they all call Milo something different. Connie calls him Brother or Milo, Honey calls him Mywo (Me - Woah), Niko calls him Lio or Em

- Milo used to take the kids to school (either walking or driving) since the twins were in daycare

- each kid is represented by one of the many animals that represent Milo. The rabbit (Connie), the bird (Honey) and the cat (Niko). With them, Milo is the dog. (Each animal makes up a part of Milo’s personality)

-⬆️ specific animals: White bunny (Connie) summer tanager (Honey) orange tabby (Niko) Wolf or Fox (Milo). However if they were Milo; New Zealand rabbit, Crow, and Red Siberian cat

- Maya would not be born in this au because at that point, they’d have their hands full with the twins and there’s no reason to have another. Ollie would have not been adopted either

#all for the other kids #aftg #all for the game #art #doodles #oc #oc art #milo josten #miloverse #andreil #andreil kid au #Connie Minyard-Josten #Honey Minyard-Josten #Niko Minyard-Josten

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mo0nfairy · 1 year ago

Text

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART THREE !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 6.4k

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, yandere!jill, yandere!carlos, suicidal themes, grief/death, weapons, violence, blood, maladaptive daydreaming, implied masturbation, drugging, kidnapping, unhealthy & unrealistic religious themes.

carlos oliveira's yandere traits are . . .

worshiper, delusional, & nurturing

──── Carlos Oliveira hates the scent of ink. Yet still, his hands are covered in the excess of the relentless use of such.

It stains everything. His ragged clothes, his fingers, the top secret documents he couldn't be bothered to care after. Despite his loathing of the material, it somehow seems to follow him with every step he walks. It doesn't take away the sheer relief he feels when he uses the same ink to jot down everything in his journal. While Carlos is far from home and occupied with his position as a Corporal, he fills pages upon pages of entries assigned to you. From how he swore he heard your laughter at lunch that day to obsessive hours spent writing your name over and over again, he finds it soothing, in an odd sense. Everything the ink touches revolves around you in some shape or form.

Y/N L/N. The name he will never forget.

Carlos remembers your aromatic sweat, your intoxicating breath, your perfumed skin; he will never forget how you ended his life in Raccoon City. It was persephonic, the last day of his life. Through the maze of chaos and gore, he found you, his little taste of heaven before he would face his demise. However, he is still shamefully alive. And selfishly, Carlos wishes that he had died that night. He should be grateful, as insinuated by the thousands of innocent lives lost and his family thanking the universe for sparing their boy. But, he just isn't. He can't, as much as he tries.

Even though his heart still beats, something within him has been dead for these past five years. He tries to heal his soul which decomposes with every day that goes by, but his efforts are brought to no avail. As much as he attempts to write out the fairytale he desperately wishes would materialize into reality, the truth sits and rots beneath a canopy of pretty lies.

You are dead and there is nothing he can do about it.

If Carlos thinks too much about it, he'll be brought to tears. And he can't afford another days-long meltdown filled with unruly sobbing and staggering guilt. He just can't. Instead, he defiles his brain with dreams of you that he deludes himself into believing are real. Writing his sweet spouse letters while he is away from home, buying you trinkets and clothes from foreign places, and leaving behind warm plates of food for you to enjoy. The truth of your well-being dances in the back of his head like a ghost in an attic. However, fully acknowledging you are gone would just about kill him. Carlos will prolong it as long as it can, no matter how fast the inevitable truth gains on him.

"My honey, My sweet, My lover. I will be home soon. Please wait for me, my bumblebee." Ink stains Carlos' fingers as he jots down yet another letter to you. He wonders if you also hate the way ink stains your fingers when you finally write back to him. His heart swells when he imagines you receiving his letter all safe and cozy in the home you share together. One day, he'll receive a letter back from you. The ghost of the truth lurks in the mind, but he turns his back to it. One day, he'll receive a letter back from you.

Five years without you and all that sunshine and wit he used to possess has depleted. Now, it's impossible to know when the ticking time bomb that is Carlos Oliveira may explode.

Unbeknownst to his peers, every emotion expressed is a manifestation of you, whether good or bad. After working the day away, Carlos becomes agitated after such treacherous hours without being able to bathe his mind in the light of you. The anger suffocates whatever room he walks into, causing the people within to recoil from the energy alone. No one has forgotten the time when a few colleagues had poked the bear after a single day Carlos spent unable to return to the thought of you. This inevitably caused an hour-long outburst of broken bones, furniture thrown about, and an eruption of unconsolable tears and horrifying threats. The memory still sends goosebumps across the skin of witnesses and no one has dared to cross the man ever since.

All Carlos needs is to venture back to the lustrous haven within his head. Just you and him, together in extraterrestrial bliss. It's all he needs, please let him have it.

All he needs is indulge in the heavenly sights of you at this moment. Instead of the blood-stained reality that is his life, let him spend his days out in the wild with you. Breezy Summer days where the sun beats down and soaks you in its golden, empyrean hues. Carlos sits with his back against the trunk of a willow tree and you lay on a blanket with your head resting in his lap. The enchanting, peaceful state he has found himself in is almost enough to lull him into a slumber. But, how could he dare shut his eyes when the astonishing sight of you sits right before him? Carlos traces his fingers among the tracings of sunlight that peek through the branches and rest upon your face. Beautiful. How irrevocably, indubitably, catastrophically beautiful you are.

A picnic out in an empty field where the day would be spent letting the world fall away as he looks down on the love of his life. Your lips, ever-so appetizing, are dusted with sugar from the numerous treats Carlos made for this exact date. His hand cups your cheek and he caresses your cheekbone with his thumb, your smile growing in response. And the way it tugs on his heartstrings is almost as if your mere happiness was playing him like a string instrument. He gazes at you with so much wonder, it's practically baffling how in love a man could be. You offer him a bite of the pastry in your hand, but he declines. The heat of the season's temperatures and the burning love within Carlos is more than enough to keep him satiated.

Safe, content, and alive with love. There couldn't be a more perfect way to describe this precious moment with you. Safe, content, and alive with love.

A hand waving in his face brings him back to his unforgiving reality. No more sunshine, no more birdsong, no more you. The dread that permeates his entire being could rival the pain of being stabbed in the heart. Carlos jumps in surprise and casts his eyes upward to find Tyrell, whose worried eyes peer at him through the glasses perched on his nose. His body is tense, terrified of treading over a boundary and causing another outburst. Only this time, he fears the several guards with syringes that were able to make him comply before would fail this time. And Tyrell wouldn't be able to escape Carlos' wrath with his life.

However, in the head of Carlos, he can't fathom why his colleague was suddenly so afraid of him. Maybe it was the way his expression was entirely unconscious. Maybe it was the way his eyes were wide and distant, in a completely different world. Maybe it was the way his lips would twitch into a smile that would be deemed creepy or maybe it was how he whispered unintelligible sentences under his breath. All of this remains unknown to Carlos, as he was far too busy in la-la-land to pay attention to his surroundings. Tyrell then motions to the ground, where Carlos finds how his pen had managed to roll across the floor and how his journal was now sitting face-down against the concrete. When did he drop those?

"Are you okay, man?" The question echoes as if he was standing miles away from him. Is he? Is he ok? These days, it never really feels like it. Only when he can escape to his paradise does he truly feel okay.

"You kept saying something. Over and over again." Carlos can barely render the words spoken by his friend.

"Y/N. Who is that-?"

Something snaps within Carlos. The fireworks you have ignited inside him have been snuffed out like a cigarette; the skipping of his heart trips over itself like a child sprinting down a jagged sidewalk. Your name alone sitting on someone else's tongue is more than enough to send him spiraling into an envious frenzy. You've never even met this poor man, but Carlos' brain infests his thoughts with visions of you and Tyrell together. This parasite paints images of you in the same field, in each other's arms, hopelessly devoted to one another. Happy with one another. And the stifling jealousy practically makes Carlos maniacal. It should be him, it should be him. He doesn't deserve it, but it should be him with you. Not Tyrell, never him, please not him please choose me please just choose me I will do anything baby please-

Carlos doesn't even think before he's swinging his right arm back and surging it forward to Tyrell's face. He can't win, he can't win, he can't. Permeating pain flashes like a flickering light and it courses through his entire arm. This sudden flare of weakness grants Tyrell the opportunity to block the attack before it lands. He now just stares at his friend in complete horror. Carlos falls to the floor of the infirmary and inspects the source of pain, finding that his right bicep has been covered in thick gauze. What was once white and clean is now tattered with blood-red stains. The memories hit him like a train. How could he have forgotten? Was he so caught up in his fantasies that he failed to recall what happened mere hours ago?

One of the most prominent and more so realistic fantasies (in his opinion) Carlos has is of you in heaven, watching over him like his own personal guardian angel. To finally accept your death would shatter him entirely, but to think of how your soul has lived on and is now living in promised eternal bliss calms his stuttering heart. His relentless acknowledgment of this fantasy has caused disastrous side effects, however. Behind the scenes, he has caught himself on many occasions contemplating death. To indulge in his demise and to see you on the other side, Carlos knows it shouldn't make him this exhilarated. Still, he continues to wallow in the celestial phenomenon of joining you in the clouds.

He refuses to fulfill these suicidal tendencies for the sole reason of how you'd perceive him afterward. You had ever so bravely lost your life to the wreckage of Raccoon City; you died a fucking warrior. Whom would Carlos be if he simply ended the torment by slitting his wrists? The echo of your voice barking of how much of a coward he'd be for killing himself over such dramatic, puny reasons makes Carlos recoil in shame. This obsession of his has accelerated to a degree where he'll purposely slack off during missions, hoping that he'll be fatally caught in the crossfire. A bullet through the brain and he'd wake up beside you, where you'll praise him for his bravery and how he died a hero.

To reunite with you — that is the only thing Carlos could ever want.

Today was no different. Yet, while his comrades shout for him to take cover and question why he is being such an idiot, it finally happened. Barrelling through the air is a bullet, which buries itself into the flesh of his right arm. The force sends Carlos to the ground. When others try to take hold of him and drag him to safety, he swats them off like they're nothing but pesky mosquitoes on a humid July afternoon. And he laughs so loudly and so manically, it could almost convince the enemy that the Corporal is secretly the Joker.

It all makes sense now. You had broken your right arm five years ago and now, Carlos has been shot in the exact same arm. This must be you! This must be your way of lending your hand through the sky, guiding him to join you in heaven! You are here with him and Carlos can't restrict the genuine smile and streaming tears from forming on his face. Now, however, the wounds your tender heart left have now been cared for. These doctors have defiled your mark on him; they have sullied the gift you have so kindly given him. And the fury that bubbles inside of Carlos in response is nothing short of harrowing.

Through the heaving breaths of the man he once considered to be his friend, Tyrell finally speaks up with a waver in his voice. "You-You need help, Carlos. I don't know who Y/N is, but-"

"YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!" Carlos' outburst explodes and the ringing of it settles like a blast wave. It bounces off the walls and reverberates through the ears of both men.

The anger is practically palpable. What Tyrell failed to notice through that rageful veneer was the pieces of Carlos' broken heart that lies beneath. With every passing second, this phantom within him reminds him of the state of your well-being. You're dead, you're gone, I won't see you ever again. With naivety Carlos excuses as the truth, he continues to ignore this voice. He has been stuck in a five-year-long chase with his logic and will continue running for five more if he needs to. And slowly but surely, this endless race is tearing him apart.

Tyrell leaves without so much as another breath. One question stays heavy on his mind, though. Whoever you are, Y/N, what the fuck have you done to him?

The patient must be given PTO to avoid another breakdown that could potentially accelerate into lethal violence — that was the "excuse" the doctors gave to the Sergeant regarding Carlos' wellbeing. This leaves him here. Alone and driving back to his estate. Meanwhile, his brain is blooming with iridescent fantasies he claims to be memories. Driving home to you after a long day of work and bringing you all the money and love you could ever ask for. He wonders, would you wait for him to come home? Would he find you asleep on the sofa, succumbing to your drowsiness before he'd be able to open the door? Or would you be in the bedroom? The soft glow of the lamp light framing your face as you peel back the covers, welcoming him into your idyllic embrace?

The tires of his car begin to skid off the road. Carlos is brought out of his imagination, where he then jerks the vehicle back into its proper position in the lane. You may just be the death of him, he muses. And when he finally arrives home, he tries to ignore the love letters he sent to you piling in the mailbox, the trinkets and clothes he bought you collecting dust, and the dinner he left for you that is now putrid and overwhelmed with mold. He tries to avoid how much it actually kills him. But still, this aching sense of dread rots in the pit of his stomach. It isn't until he glances at the calendar pinned on the wall does the devastation finally settle like fresh snow.

The date today was September 28th, 2004.

Six years.

It's been six years since he survived Raccoon City; it's been six years since he met you and lost you on the same night. This isn't the first revelation that comes to mind, though. Instead, he feels absolutely mortified by his own negligence. It's your sixth-year anniversary, how could he have forgotten? What kind of person, boyfriend, husband is he to forget this day? He should have brought home chocolate, flowers, shit, maybe even taken you on a month-long vacation to a resort across the world. God, how could he be so fucking stupid? You two could have been at each other's side during the most important day of the year (besides your birthday, of course). But no, he just had to get so caught up in his head that he forgot the anniversary of the day that made him the man he is today.

Another epiphany, one of the much more luminescent standards, hits Carlos once again. This must be why you had never written back to him. You aren't dead, you're simply upset with him! All the letters, all the gifts, all the plates of food, everything you have neglected — it was just your way of expressing your anger. Ha, take that, brain! And despite the circumstances, Carlos imagines the scowl on your face and is absolutely giddy from the vision alone. You're upset with him, yes, but you're alive. His sweet lover is here with a beating heart and an angry head. And God, does it make Carlos practically shiver with glee.

He then storms through his house, looking into every nook and cranny in search of you. "Y/N? Honey? Honey, it's me! Look, I know you're upset, but I promise I will do everything I can to make it up to you!"

"Where would you like to go? Hawaii? Paris? Shit, Italy? Wherever you'd like, Y/N!" With each room left devoid of you, that wrenching misery returns piece by piece and yanks on what is left of his heart. His voice begins to crack as he continues to shout for you. "Y/N, please! Please come out, honey! I'll do anything, Y/N... Please..."

Carlos then collapses to the hardwood floor, his body crushed with the sobs now protruding from his chest. Tears pour down his cheeks with uncontrollable force before landing on the ground beneath. And he cries so violently that he fears his ribcage may shatter from the force of it alone. He can't accept it, he can't, he can't, he can't. Even if this is what the rest of his life looks like, just veiling the truth with delusional fantasies, Carlos will never face the honest conclusion. He just can't.

"Please, bumblebee... I need you..." It's a final, desperate prayer. For your presence or for mercy, Carlos isn't exactly sure which.

He then digs beneath the collar of his shirt and fishes out the necklace he has worn for six years now. Swung upon a rusted chain is the charm of a bumblebee, the yellow and black shades now decayed with age. Carlos (as forgetful as he now realized he is today) will never forget when he first received the necklace. It was right before you had boarded the subway train that would eventually lead to your departure from life. How you enveloped him in your sugar-sweet hug and the way your natural musk sat on your skin still drives him nuts after all these years. The memory brings him great comfort on restless nights spent tossing and turning in bed.

At that moment, however, he never realized how constricting his hold was on you until he hears something snap. Opening his eyes and awakening from the stupor of his cartoon-esque infatuation, he finds how he had underestimated his strength and crushed the clasp of your necklace. The state of your beloved jewelry piece is left oblivious to you. Carlos wasn't given a second to process what had happened before you're peeling your arms off of him and boarding the train. In his hands are the remnants of the necklace you left behind.

The insect symbolizes perseverance, which he finds is a perfect way to describe his life today. Persevering through every day until he can finally let his body rest six feet under; persevering through every day until he can join his honey, his bumblebee through the gates of heaven. Carlos presses another kiss of millions to the pendant as he sits in his lonely house, pretending it is your skin beneath his lips instead of the rusted metal. His heart is shattered, his body is weak, and his brain is infested with every kind of mayhem he has ever known, but he will push through it. He will push through any and all kind of chaos knowing you are at the end of the finish line. Waiting for him.

The quick tune of an email alert brings Carlos out of his lovesick, grief-burdened daze. Suddenly being torn away from the thought of you makes rage flood through his veins. He stomps over to shut his computer off, maybe even throw the monitor against the wall in the process. When he catches a glimpse of what is on his computer, he hesitates. A loud gasp then escapes from him.

On his computer is an email from an old friend.

Carlos is able to fly into the country in less than twenty-four hours. He has to take several deep breaths in order to eradicate the black dots dancing in his vision as he races to Jill's apartment. Seeing her face and the present relief in her expression, the all-too-overwhelming revelation settles. Carlos is surprised he hadn't blacked out right there on her doorstep in response. It's time to finally get you back.

And just like Jill and Carlos had orchestrated after two weeks of planning how they'd release you from Umbrella's clutches, one sip of the cup of tea in your hands and you were out like a light. Your collapse was harsh, evident in the loud thud that permeated when you landed. Fortunately, you had your blanket-cape there to cushion your fall. It doesn't stop the two from bursting the bathroom door open and rushing to your aid, however.

Without your knowledge, Jill and Carlos then proceed to take you far, far away from the place you had once called home.

"What the fuck?"

Despite knowing you were sleeping soundly just several rooms over, your sudden presence still manages to have their breath locked in their throat. The way you look at one another contradicts each other in such discrete ways, it's almost comical. You're hyperventilating, staring at the scene in front of you with eyes blown in crazed shock. Six years of grieving through the most traumatic night of your life, why is it now you find out they have been alive this whole time? These two, however, stare into your soul with so much wonder, you're almost convinced they thought they were looking at some sort of mythological creature. It's almost as if they're hypnotized. No movement, no response — just pure amazement at the sight of you alive and looking at them with eyes full of life.

It isn't until you take a cautious step back does it trigger them to escape their state of captivation. You venturing further away from them, even just a pace — they can't let it happen. Never again. While Jill resorts to calmly approaching you as if you were a stray cat, Carlos makes an abrupt dash for you. You take several more steps backward before the man you presumed to be dead became inescapable. With another onslaught of tears brimming in his eyes and a whimper fleeing from his throat, Carlos practically tackles you into a tenacious embrace.

The hold he has on you is ridden with disbelief and desperation. He's shaking against your body like an Autumn leaf drifting through the wind. Burying his nose further into your neck, he inhales the musk that sits on your skin as if he had been trapped underwater and you were a pocket of air. God, Carlos wasn't even able to look at you for more than one second before he started blubbering like a baby. The man is so absorbed in the moment of finally reuniting with you, he almost misses it when Jill smacks him on his arm and growls through clenched teeth for him to "get his fucking shit together." But, Carlos refuses to budge. He is ready to beg Jill to let him stay here, to please let him revel in the fact that this isn't another fantasy someone will wake him out of.

He somehow nestles his face further into the crook of your neck and brings your body closer to his, almost as if he was trying to mold you together as one. And at this moment, Carlos has yet another revelation. Years upon years of imagining what heaven looks like, he was entirely incorrect. There are no clouds, no birdsong, no vibrant gardens. This. Right here in this moment, this is what heaven is. To have you, the partner of his dreams, so close to him is nothing short of heavenly. For six years, he has dreamed of this moment. And if he were to die at this moment, Carlos would be elated to know he died the happiest he has ever been in his whole life.

Meanwhile, you're thrashing in the tight hold of his constricted strength. It's almost hard for you to breathe with how hard he’s squeezing you. The woman you see over his shoulder is collected, but only a fool would miss the way her shoulders tense and nostrils flare with rage (and a sliver of possessiveness, too). She receives your silent plea and grabs a fistful of his mop-head of hair, using all the might in her arm to pull him away from his own bear hug. Carlos reluctantly loosens his grasp on your form. However, he then resorts to checking you for any and all signs of life.

The past six years have been spent dodging the logical answer to your disappearance. Now, however, the sight of you alive is just too good to be true. He begins thoroughly checking your body for a pulse, listening intently to any irregularities in your heartbeat. Anything to assure him you are actually alive and breathing. When every sign and question points to 'yes' over if you are here, Carlos can hardly contain it. Finally seeing you walking, looking, talking, alive — it's like the crescendo of a beautiful song.

Jill, as collected as she is, does not differ from Carlos' state of emotion very much. She has thought of this moment at least a million times, rehearsing every syllable and breath to make the moment all the more perfect. Now, however, every perceivable thought in her head was robbed the second you entered the room. How desperately she wishes to reassure your safety, inform you of the lies you were told, and vow to never let another soul lay a single hand on you ever again. But, with her racing heart and this grizzly bear of a man latched to you like a leech, her idea of the perfect reunion has been spoiled. Still, for six years she has longed for this. Whether it's a steamy kiss beneath the moonlight or caught in Carlos' mess of tears, she couldn't be more elated to finally have you again.

Much to your dismay, your empty stomach then grumbles its frustrations into the silent air. In response, your face grows warm in embarrassment. You had been so occupied with the current events and battling your shock, the dinner you had missed out on the night before had gone overlooked. The two, however, react much differently to your perceptible hunger than you. Without a mere second to waste, they're fawning over you as if you were some powerful deity and they were your humble, loyal servants. Their infantilizing treatment of you makes your skin burn with even more heaps of humiliation.

"Oh? Are you hungry? I've almost finished breakfast!" Carlos breaks physical contact to return to the stove and you have to restrain yourself from expressing your perceptible relief.

"I... I didn't have dinner last night." With an exhale of dry laughter, your attempt to lighten the mood only does the opposite. How could they have let you go hungry? They brought you here to care for you the way they deserve and they have already failed!

A gentle hand on your lower back causes you to jump in startlement. You find Jill beside you, who helps guide your trembling legs to the kitchen table. Though, it doesn't take a genius to notice the way her hand lingers. Finally free of any unsolicited touch, you sit down at the end of the table. The only way you can bring yourself to any state of ease is to ignore the relentless cooing of the woman beside you and the furious scraping of a spatula against a pan. Almost as if Carlos was speeding through the process of cooking in order to get back to you sooner. Jill then sits beside you, taking your hands into hers. Being free of physical contact was good while it lasted, you joke to yourself.

"You're real... You're real, my butterfly, you're real." Jill indulges in the reality of your genuine touch, before shaking her head as if to wobble her rationality back in place.

A plate is soon served before you. And it is easily the most delectable dish you had ever seen; it looked like something straight out of a magazine, despite the frivolous efforts made by the chef. A gourmet omelet sits in front of you, steam pervading the air in invading your nostrils with its mouth-watering aroma. Adorned with spinach, tomato, and feta cheese, you could have easily downed the delicious serving in one gulp. Nausea swaying in your stomach like a boat on sea prevents you from doing such. You thank Carlos through stuttering breaths and almost miss the way his body softens from receiving your gratitude.

Always so possessive, Jill reverts your attention back to her. "There is so much you are unaware of, Y/N. But, we're here to help. You don't have to be afraid a second longer." Her reassurance does little to calm your nerves. "Right, Carlos?" He only nods weakly, completely dazed as he stares at you in adoration. Had he even heard what she said?

"We will not let anything happen to you." The gravity of her statement practically touches your bones with its weight. It scares you, the severity of the declaration.

Terrified of angering them (even though there is not a single thing you could do that would ever irritate them), you grasp the fork laid out for you on the pristine table. Your efforts are halted by Carlos, who sits down beside you, opposite of Jill. To satiate his gnawing need for you to be close, he pushes his chair to touch yours until you are both shoulder-to-shoulder. After all, you must be so terrified upon being kidnapped by such an evil corporation. It is his touch and comfort you need to lull you back into a place of tranquility, he's sure of it.

Carlos then takes the fork from your hands, nearly passing out when your thumb grazes his hand. To your horror, he plucks some food onto the utensil and holds it up to your lips, ushering you to let him feed you. Almost as if this was some romantic anniversary or something. Reluctantly, you open your mouth and let him place the bite of food on your tongue. And you would be a liar if you said this wasn't the most delicious meal you have ever eaten. Your tastebuds adorned in succulent food and flavorful seasoning, you joke that this dish is compensation for all the turmoil this morning has brought.

Slowly, as Carlos was painfully milking the moment for as long as he could, your hunger is satiated. The joy he garners from merely feeding you radiates off of him like a campfire against the dark night brume. Once the plate is wiped clean of even the smallest crumb (despite your assurances to him that you were full), Jill then wipes the corner of your mouth with her thumb. Your holy attention is reverted back to Carlos when he pokes your lips with a straw, once again, ushering you to let him nourish your stomach. "To wash it down" he excuses, with far too much exhilaration hanging heavy in his tone.

Indulging in the cold, fresh water as it cascades down your throat, you miss how Jill brings her thumb, now adorned with bits of food and your saliva, into her mouth. And she just relishes in the absolute taste of you. Her vision goes hazy and her eyelids droop from the ecstasy. She would have let herself completely fall into the arms of enrapturing oblivion if it weren't for the fact you were right beside her. Carlos takes notice, however, and a sneer forms on his lips as he looks at her in disgust. Jill bites her tongue, holding herself back from pointing out how he is no different. So easily, she could inform you of how after your intimate bath together, she found him inhaling your sweater with his eyes rolled back into his skull and his hand stuffed into his pants. If she were to voice this, however, the man would easily throw himself over the table and attack her like a feral animal. She can handle him, but you don't need even more stress.

Upon being thrust into the middle of this mess, the only thing you can do is watch as the obsession of Jill and Carlos play out before your very eyes. And the physical manifestation of your return has caused disastrous consequences. Six years and you're ashamed to say you have forgotten what their facial features looked like. The memory remains as a blurred, distorted mess of blood and grime. An expression of all the trauma you all have endured. Now, however, you'd be damned if those were two expressions you could ever forget.

Carlos and his dark goo-goo eyes, adorned in overwhelming heaps of drowning devotion that could swallow you whole with one glance. They're affixed with teardrops, adding onto everything cherubic, holy about the way he looks at you. Despite the sheer display of sadness leaking from his eyes, his lips exhibit the biggest, most genuine smile you have ever seen in your life. The way he looks at you, it's almost as if God himself had descended from the heavens and graced Carlos with his presence. All from just the mere act of feeding you. It was deranged, you thought to yourself.

His smile vanishes, eyebrows raising as something seems to click in his head. He then takes your right arm gingerly into his grasp, fingers treading amongst the field of goosebumps blossoming on your skin. "Your arm, you poor thing... Are you okay, honey?" The worry in his voice makes you shiver with convulsion. It takes you several seconds to compute that he was referring to the injury you endured six whole years ago.

Jill and her cheeks that are blazon in hues reminiscent of two ripe cherries, appending a sort of childish innocence to her always-stoic expression. The way her eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed displayed a sense of fury — presumably toward the man clinging onto you like a lifeline. When she looks at you, however, her features perceptibly soften as if beams of sunlight had enveloped her after years of being in the depths of Winter. It was deranged, you thought to yourself.

"You... You kidnapped me..." Even through all the violence and torment these two have endured, nothing had cut deep than those three words. The waver in your voice, the emotions brimming in your eyes, the trembling frown plastered on your lips. God, it killed them right then and there.

They begin to ramble and deny your accusation. All as if it wasn't a lie coming out of their mouths. And in their heads, it was anything but a lie. They truly believed that they saved you as if it was a genuine fact. Somehow, they manage to inch closer to you. The empty air around you becomes suffused with their waving hands and panicked explanations. All to convince you that they would never hurt you. Never.

"You're upset, Y/N, we understand. But you have to know that this was for your own good!" Jill remains the voice of reason, if that's what you would name it. Meanwhile, Carlos throws shambles of assurances such as, "It's not true!" and "I need you!" your way, hoping that something, anything will mend your fears.

And poor you. So confused, so terrified, so bewildered. All you could want at this moment is to go back twelve hours ago. To leave with your friend the second they entered the room, to scrutinize what in your home had caused you to black out, to burst down the front door and beg the the surrounding security guards to save you. Even though the truth of your “home” simmers just beneath the surface, itching to claw its way out, you still find yourself aching to go back to the way things were. Even if it is all just a fat lie. Anything is better than this.

Miles upon miles away, the three of you are completely unaware of the fourth presence treading closer to their secret. Suspicions high, Tyrell can't help but use some of his free time to venture into why Jill and Carlos had suddenly vanished. For the umpteenth time, he looks through more footage from the security system Jill was so insistent on receiving. And what he finds is horrifying. The two people he had once considered his friends were seen climbing through a window, to where they escape moments later with an unconscious body.

A flare of guilt spreads through him. Unwillingly, he had actively played a part in this. Whoever you were, he felt inclined to take full responsibility for helping these two take this innocent life away. To be kidnapped, murdered, he doesn't know. What Tyrell does know, however, is that he feels to be partially blamed for this. When he does further research, his heart sinks even deeper into the pit of his stomach. Reports of a missing patient were sent around the establishment. Y/N L/N, a potential runaway was actually the body nestled tight in Carlos' arms. He remembers how he had spoken that name and the reaction it garnered from Carlos; he remembers seeing the name on the door of the room Jill relentlessly paid him to receive footage of.

With that, Tyrell reports the incident. An investigation commences and two major clues are found. A shattered mug that had been filled with sedation-induced tea and specks of blood on the bathroom floor that have been tested positive for matching one of the assailants. Now, a manhunt is in play for Jill Valentine and Carlos Oliveira.

At his desk that was overwhelmed with littering documents, Tyrell eavesdrops on a conversation between his two colleagues.

"You won't believe who they've gotten to take over Carlos' spot for this mission!"

"Who?"

"Leon Kennedy."

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 ۫ you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ WE WERE WILD AND FLUORESCENT

COME HOME TO MY HEART . . . ❞

this is what i imagined the necklace carlos stole borrowed from you to look like. however, you can imagine it as whatever you'd like!

1K notes · View notes

mysterious-moonstruck-musings · 3 months ago

Text

Rough Waters

Frankie Morales x OFC (Elena) ||| Main Masterlist

Summary: While on family vacation, a young Frankie Morales and Elena meet by chance. They become inseparable during the trip. They part with promises to stay in touch, but life eventually gets in the way of that. Elena is haunted by thoughts of Frankie and wonders what ever happened to him. In a story of first loves and second chances, she gets her answers fourteen years later when they reconnect under less than perfect circumstances.

Word Count: 9.5k

👉 Warnings: smut (MDNI), angst, alcohol consumption, brief mention of parental death, brief mention of unplanned pregnancy, brief mention of mental health struggles, Frankie's mouth, Frankie's hands, Frankie's hair

Quote: "Why do I feel like you're telling me goodbye?"

People weave in and out of our lives, making and severing connections without a second thought. In most cases, their absence has no effect and the memory of them eventually fades. They turn into a forgotten name and blurry image. Other times, the impact of their absence is so profound that it changes your life trajectory. It carves out a piece of your soul and leaves you wandering, looking for the missing piece. The longer that piece is missing, the bigger the void grows. That void can never be filled and will leave you asking, “What if?” until your end.

This was never meant to be a love story, but it is a story about the love between two people. It’s a story about heartbreak and loss. A story about two souls on a journey to fill the void that the other left. It’s an unpredictable journey that leads into new beginnings and second chances.

It was near midnight as I sat on the balcony of a 14th floor suite at the Eastgate Palms Resort, drinking a bottle of Jack Daniels and listening to the hypnotic sound of the waves crashing against the shore. My fiancé slumbered in one of the two bedrooms, unaware of the turmoil raging inside me. My eyes were unblinking, watching the reflection of the moon and stars rippling in the water, remembering the last time I sat in this very spot fourteen years ago to the day. It was the last time I saw him. The one that I could never seem to let go. My “what if”.

We were still kids, both of us 16 and full of dreams. The first time I saw him was on the beach. I didn’t appreciate him then. I was more interested in his blonde haired, blue eyed best friend, Will, who had accompanied him on his family’s vacation. I tried my best to get Will’s attention, but he was more worried about pickup football games and surfing. Frankie, however, seemed to prefer lounging by the pool. We skirted around each other that first day. I insisted to my best friend, who was traveling with me and my family, that I wasn’t interested. He wasn’t my type I had said to her. It didn’t take long for that to change.

Our first night together, I was awake later than everyone else, just as I was every night. I had been sitting on this same balcony, enjoying the peaceful lulling sounds of the waves as I wrote in my journal when I heard the balcony door of the neighboring suite open. Frankie appeared, leaning against the railing and staring out at the dark ocean before him with a somber expression. I watched him for some time as he stood illuminated by waxing moonlight, taking in the outline of his shaggy curls and fit frame. His profile was unique with an aquiline nose and pouty lips. It probably wouldn’t have fit into the conventional definition of beautiful, but something about it was.

To this day, I can’t remember what the first words were that we said to each other. I wish I could. I do remember him laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners and his cheek dimpling as he came to lean against the railing closest to me. We talked until the first rays of sun appeared over the water. We talked about my writing, our plans for the future, our families - no topic was off the table. It was like we had been friends for ages. I remember the way he looked during the sunrise with his dark hair hanging down over his chocolate-colored baby cow eyes, patchy stubble on his jaw, his golden skin darkened from being at the pool. He was perfect and already owned a small piece of my heart.

As the week went on, we spent all of our free time together doing mundane things - lounging by the pool or on the beach, walking the pier or to the local gift shops. We were usually accompanied by our friends or older siblings. The nights, however, were ours. Every night after our families were asleep, we would both sneak out to our balconies to be together and always talked until the sun was visible on the horizon. During that time, I got to know Frankie very well. He was an old soul and a dreamer. He was caring and sweet. To me, he was perfect in every way.

On our last night together, we both stood leaning on our respective railings across from each other, no more than a foot apart. Our hearts were heavy knowing that I would be leaving the following day. Our heads stayed bent closely as we talked in hushed whispers, making promises to stay in touch. That was the night he gave me my first real kiss, his hands cupping my cheeks as he licked into my mouth. It was every teenage girl’s dream come true.

It was the days before social media and cell phones. Long-distance calls from a landline costed a small fortune. So, we settled for exchanging addresses, insisting that we would write to each other weekly. And we did. We wrote to each other for nearly two years. We shared our most intimate thoughts and feelings - things that we never told anyone else. We made plans for our future, when we were old enough to be together and have our own life. However, Frankie’s letters eventually started to come slower. Weeks and then months between each one, until they eventually stopped. My last letter was returned with a note indicating a new resident with no forwarding address. I was devastated but held out hope that I would still hear from him. I never did.

As the years went on, I tried to forget about him, but he was always in the recesses of my mind. I couldn’t help wondering about him from time to time. I tried looking him up on social media once that became a thing but had no luck. I even used all the resources at my disposal to try and locate him, but I came up with nothing. He was a ghost. Nothing but a memory. I hated not knowing what became of him. I knew it would be one of the many mysteries that would haunt my dreams until the day I died.

I was drawn from my thoughts by the familiar sound of a sliding door from his balcony. I knew it was ridiculous, but that didn’t stop my heart from jumping into my throat for a brief moment. That was quickly remedied when a woman moved into view to stand in Frankie’s place, leaning on the railing, staring into the abyss. I briefly wondered what inner demons she was battling as I stood to go inside. I left the door open so I could listen to the sounds of the ocean as I laid down on the living room sofa, eventually drifting off to sleep. Frankie haunted my dreams that night, as he did most nights. However, this night they were so vivid, it was like I was 16 again and here with him. The sound of his voice rattled around in my brain, but it sounded off. Different. It left me questioning if I could even remember how he sounded anymore.

I eventually woke to the sound of seagulls and warm sunlight beaming down onto my face. I could faintly hear Chris, my fiancé, singing off key in the shower. I groaned, feeling groggy and hung over. He had insisted we take this trip to try and rekindle things between us, but so far, he was only pushing me further away. He chose the location because he thought it would make me happy. Citing that he remembered how fondly I had spoken of my memories here when I was younger. What he didn’t realize was those memories were because of Frankie. I had never told Chris about Frankie. I didn’t see the need since I never expected to see him again. Yet here we were. Frankie wasn’t in my life, but he was still hanging over it like a dark cloud. Being here was only making things worse, reminding me of how unhappy I was with the path I had chosen for myself.

With a sigh, I pulled myself up off the sofa and wandered into the bedroom. Chris was just coming out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, smiling as he gave me a quick peck on the cheek.

“I bet you slept real good on that tiny ass couch. Why didn’t you come to bed?”

I shook my head, “I just fell asleep listening to the waves. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.”

“I can’t believe we spent our first night of vacation sleeping in separate rooms. Who does that?”

“I said I’m sorry. It wasn’t my goal. I told you, the sound helps me relax. I just dozed off.”

He smiled as he wrapped his arms around me, “I know. I’m just giving you a hard time. I would like to spend some time with you though…like we used to.”

I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes, “Don’t worry, we still have four more days. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He kissed me on the lips now, attempting to deepen it before I pulled away. It didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the same. Something was missing.

I gave him a tight smile as I moved to my bag to grab my toiletries before disappearing to the bathroom and locking the door.

We spent the day doing touristy stuff. It was something that I probably would have found pleasure in in another life, but today, it just felt empty. The only thing I could feel was a heavy weight on my chest. It got heavier every time Chris mentioned something about his plans for our future together. I was beginning to feel like I was on a spinning carnival ride that I couldn't get off of. It made me dizzy and nauseous. It was becoming more obvious to me that I was choosing the wrong path, but I feared I had gone too far and wouldn’t be able to find my way back.

The day had turned to night when we found ourselves waiting to be seated at a boardwalk restaurant. Chris was chattering away at my side, but I didn’t hear a word he was saying. My mind was distracted by thoughts of a young Frankie and I walking down a nearby footpath, laughing about something as he slipped his arm around me. I hadn’t remembered that moment until now. It’s funny how long-lost memories can be unexpectedly triggered by random experiences.

My attention was pulled back to the present day by a buzzer lighting up and vibrating in my hands, alerting us that our table was ready. As we stood, I turned to move toward the hostess stand and crashed into a broad frame. When my eyes locked with the familiar dark orbs in front of me, I couldn’t breathe. We stared at each other for a beat before I managed to stutter out, “I-I’m sorry… excuse me.”

I could feel the eyes of the beautiful blonde beside him boring into me. Clearly, she had noticed the odd exchange between us. Chris’s hand was on my elbow, leading me away toward our table none the wiser to the events unfolding before him. Frankie’s gaze was wide as he nodded curtly, his eyes flicking to Chris, then back to me. He forced a tight smile before turning away. An understanding seemed to pass between us in those short seconds. It couldn’t appear like we knew each other.

As I turned away, the room began to spin. I was feeling light headed and overwhelmed by his sudden appearance. I let out a stuttered breath as I sat down in my seat. I couldn’t believe this was happening. What were the chances?

After ordering, Chris took me further off guard, asking, “Have you decided on a date yet?”

I shook my head, “No, I haven’t.”

“Elena, it’s been two years. We should’ve figured that out by now.”

I sighed, “I know, I’ve just had a lot going on. You know work’s been keeping me crazy busy.”

He shook his head, “You know, I would like to be settled down and have kids by the time I’m thirty-five.”

I could feel my blood beginning to boil. This was my problem. He was building a life for me according to what he wanted. I felt like I had no say in it.

In my periphery, I could see Frankie and the blonde being seated at a table across the room. Our eyes briefly connected before I turned away. Chris was completely oblivious to any of it as he continued to drone on.

“I don’t want to be a sixty-year-old with teenagers, you know what I mean?”

I nodded, agreeing with him just to shut him up.

He gave me a hopeful smile, “Maybe you should just quit your job. You know you don’t actually have to work. I make more than enough…”

I scoffed, “I’m not having this conversation with you again. I happen to enjoy my job. I’m not gonna be a stay at home housewife.”

His brows furrowed, “You’ll have to eventually. I would prefer you be home with the kids.”

I wanted to punch him in his stupid face. He was never going to let this go.

I rubbed at the crease between my brows, “Can we just not talk about this right now? Please?”

Chris gave a disbelieving laugh as he shook his head. I chanced a glance in Frankie’s direction, really seeing him for the first time. He still had his shaggy hair, but it was tucked away under an old baseball cap. His lean frame had filled out some and appeared much broader than I remembered. There was something about the way he carried himself that seemed different. He was no longer the shy boy that I remember. He was alert, sad eyes constantly scanning the room. His posture appeared too formal for the setting, with an assertive air to him. He was still absolutely beautiful. Maybe even more so now with the way his shirt stretched across his thick arms and wide shoulders.

He glanced in my direction again, holding my gaze longer than he probably should have. From the way his chest was moving under his gray fitted t-shirt, I could tell his breathing was elevated. He looked like he was seeing a ghost.

“So when should we have that discussion? You can’t keep putting it off, you know?”

My eyes darted to Chris, “I’d rather not ruin our evening. Can you please just drop it?”

He puffed air out of his cheeks, then reached for his glass of wine, downing it in a couple of gulps. At this rate, he might pass out when we get back to the resort. I kind of hoped he would. I watched as the server came around and refilled his glass. I gave her a tight smile, “Leave the bottle, please.”

She hesitated but set it down between us. Chris was already working on the next round. I watched as he grabbed the bottle and topped his glass off. I needed to get away from him for a minute before I lost it.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”

He held his glass up, like he was giving a toast then took another sip. I could already tell; the rest of this evening was certainly going to be fun.

I took my time in the bathroom, not wanting to return to my now hostile partner. Leaning against the sink, I took a moment to look at myself. I looked tired, run down, and miserable. There was no way I could keep doing this. I sighed, washed my hands, then pulled the door open. Frankie appeared out of nowhere, grabbing my hand and pulling me around a corner into a short hallway that was meant for staff.

I just stared at him. Tears pooled in my eyes as I struggled to speak. His hands rested on my shoulders as he gave me a disbelieving look, “Mi sol, it’s really you.” (My sun)

I shook my head, it hurt too much to hear that endearment, “Don’t call me that.”

I turned to walk away, suddenly overcome with anger, but he grabbed my hand to stop me.

“Elena, wait. Please. Give me a chance to explain.”

I rubbed at the ache forming between my brows before turning back to him. I wasn’t prepared for any of this. I definitely wasn’t prepared for his big brown eyes. They were the same, only aged, and were still having the same effect on me.

I had to look away, “I’ve gotta get back out there before he comes looking for me.”

Frankie’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he tried to meet my gaze, “Give me your number, please. I can’t lose you again. Just lemme explain everything.”

I could see the desperation in his sad eyes even though I was trying my best not to focus on them. The permanent crease between his brows deepened as he stood there silently pleading with me. How could I ever tell him no? Wasn’t this one of the things I wanted to know above all else?

I let out a controlled breath, “Ok, fine gimme your phone.”

He handed over his cell, “I’ll text you tonight… Do I need to worry about him seeing it?”

I shook my head as I typed in my contact info, “This is a google voice number. It doesn’t go directly to my phone. I have to log in to check it, so I may not get back to you right away.”

I gave him a tight-lipped smile, handing his phone back as I turned to walk away until he gently grabbed my wrist to stop me, “Hey, I am sorry. I-I’ve…missed you.”

For a brief moment I saw the old Frankie, shy and sweet. It made my heart ache for him. “I’ve missed you too. We’ll talk soon,” I said almost in a whisper.

I gave his hand a squeeze then turned to make my way back to the table. When I sat down, Chris was pushing pasta around on his plate, seemingly uninterested in eating now. He never stopped drinking the wine though. He looked at me with cold eyes, “What took you so long?”

I scoffed, “You’re really asking about my bathroom habits now? I’m sorry, I had to wait and then deal with some unexpected feminine issues. That takes a minute.”

He rolled his eyes, “Of course, that’s convenient.”

It was convenient because it was a lie. I just couldn’t deal with him tonight. I was still reeling from seeing Frankie on top of dealing with Chris’s asshole behavior. I wasn’t in a good place.

We ate in strained silence, staring daggers across the table at each other. That didn’t stop me from stealing the occasional glance in Frankie’s direction. There seemed to be an uncomfortable silence between him and his partner as well.

We returned to the resort after that. Chris disappeared to the bedroom with another bottle of wine. I could hear the tv click on from where I stood in the small kitchenette drinking from a glass of water. He already appeared to be intoxicated, so I silently hoped he would quickly pass out for the night.

With a sigh, I grabbed a bottle of liquor and walked out onto the balcony. I sat there lost in my thoughts for some time. I felt numb, but my mind was racing. I had so many questions and I wasn’t sure if I wanted the answers. Something told me that knowing would only make matters worse.

A quick glance at my phone told me it was nearing 11 PM. I wondered if Frankie had texted me yet. Part of me didn’t want to check and forget that I saw him out of fear that I would never hear from him. It now seemed almost easier to not know. However, the broken part of me was mentally huddled in a corner crying and begging for answers.

I let out a controlled breath, leaning forward in my seat with my elbows on my knees as I opened the internet browser on my phone. After navigating to the web address, I typed in my credentials, held my breath, then hit the login button. I didn’t have any messages. I huffed, “Figures.” I had a feeling I wouldn’t hear from him again.

I leaned back in the lounge chair and rubbed at my face, accepting the fact that I just needed to let Frankie go. At least I knew that he was alive and living his life. It wasn’t closure, but it was something.

After grabbing the bottle at my side and taking a sip, I glanced at my phone again. A little red notification now appeared indicating I had a message. Relief washed over me as I clicked to view it.

Unknown Number: Hey, it’s Frankie.

I quickly added his number to my contacts, and even took a moment to try and memorize it. My fingers hovered over the keys, unsure of what to say.

Me: Hey. I was beginning to think you were going to stand me up.

Frankie: Never again, mi sol. Are you somewhere you can talk?

I now felt heat bloom in my chest at the familiar nickname he had given me all those years ago. It caused my heart rate to spike.

Me: Funny enough, I’m sitting in our favorite place…but yes, I’m alone. I can talk.

My attention was drawn away from my phone by the sound of the sliding door opening to the neighboring balcony. His balcony. I glanced up, expecting to see the woman again. Instead, I was met with the sight of a man with messy hair. I had to do a double take as he sat two beers down and came to lean on the nearest railing with that familiar smile on his face. I nearly dropped my phone once I realized it was him.

My brows furrowed as I stood, “Frankie? What are you…?”

He let out a quiet chuckle, “I could ask you the same thing.”

Tears pooled in my eyes as I stared at him in disbelief. He reached across the open space to grab my hand, taking it between his two large ones.

“I’ve been coming here every chance I could get, on a whim really…Hoping that you would turn up.”

I chuckled, “It might have been easier to look me up on Facebook.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, I don’t use any of that. I try to stay under the radar these days…why did you finally come back?”

I chuckled, “Believe it or not, this wasn’t my idea. I did book the room though.”

He laughed quietly before turning more serious, “I’ve missed you. I did try to find you. I knew it was a long shot, but I went to your old address.”

I felt my heart clench with that news. I couldn’t believe it.

“What happened to you? Why did you ghost me?” I asked.

He sighed, “I joined the military. I didn’t know how to tell you...”

My face twisted in confusion, “Why did you think I wouldn’t have been able to handle that?

I watched as his tongue slid across his lower lip before his teeth sunk into it. He seemed to be weighing his words.

“I was being recruited to join special ops. I wasn’t going to at first, but then my parents were in an accident…they didn’t make it…”

I gave him a sympathetic look, now cradling his large hands between mine.

“Anyway, after that…I decided to take the offer. I didn’t really have anything left at home and I wasn’t in a good place, you know? And I knew I’d be doing some dangerous shit…I just didn’t wanna string you along and have you worry. I thought letting you go would be easier.”

I shook my head, “That’s ridiculous.”

He hung his head between his shoulders, “I know. I regret it…every day. Trust me.”

“Are you still on active duty?”

He pursed his lips, “I’m on reserve. That’ll be up in a couple months though, then I’m out. My body can’t take much more of it unfortunately.”

He looked disappointed, but I couldn’t help feeling relieved at the news. I couldn’t stand the thought of him being in danger.

I heard a noise behind me and stepped away from Frankie. He stealthily disappeared behind the wall that separated the two spaces. I watched as the curtain pulled back and the door slid open. Chris stuck his head out, peering at me with squinted eyes through the dark as he held onto the door frame for support. He was clearly very intoxicated by this point.

“You actually coming to bed tonight or not?” he slurred out from the doorway.

I sighed, “I’ll think about it. No need to wait up though…feel free to knock out at any time.”

He scoffed and mumbled something I couldn’t make out as he slammed the door shut and let the curtain fall back in place.

I puffed air out of my cheeks as I sagged back against the railing, rubbing at the tension forming in the back of my neck.

In a flash, Frankie was at my side again. “Rough night?” he asked.

I gave him a sad smile, “More like a rough year…maybe even two.”

“Yeah, I could sense some tension at your table.” His lips set into a line.

“He and I just want different things out of life. This trip was meant to fix it…but I think it's only making it more obvious that it’s not gonna work out.”

He offered me a beer, “You may need this more than me.”

I chuckled, moving to pick up my bottle from beside the lounger, “Thanks, but I’ve got Jack to keep me company in that regard.”

He took the lid off his bottle, “Ooof, that bad huh?”

I nodded, “Yeah, he’s uhh, he has the rest of our lives planned out with a specific timetable. I’m just not cool with that. There’s still a lot I wanna do…and he wants to settle down, get married, and start popping out kids. Four to be specific.”

Frankie took a drink, “That…fucking sucks.”

I nodded, “What about you and the blonde?”

He groaned, running his hand down his face, “I uhhh…”

He paused and shook his head, “We’ve been together almost three years, but I’ve been deployed through most of it.”

He took another drink, “Found out recently she’s pregnant…which definitely wasn’t planned. I was ready to end things until I found that out…and now we’re living together and I’m gettin’ married in a few months.”

He looked like a broken man with that revelation. I hated it for him and honestly, it broke me a little too. It was clear, he was never going to be mine.

“I’m not sure if I should say congratulations or not…”

He shrugged, “Yeah, me neither. It’s been hard with her. Now that I’ve been back for a bit it’s become painfully obvious that we’re not compatible. Yet, here we are.”

I leaned my bottle of Jack toward him, “You may need this more than me.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “Fine. Suit yourself.” I took a long pull from the bottle, trying to settle my chaotic thoughts.

He laughed, “Damn girl, calm down with that.”

I shrugged, “It’s life these days.”

He shook his head, “This is not where I saw my life going.”

I leaned on the railing closer to him, “Do you ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn’t lost contact?”

He took a long pull from his bottle now, eventually meeting my eyes, “Every damn day.”

A controlled breath passed through his pouty lips. His brows furrowed as he averted his gaze. “I fucked up. I fucked it up for us. It was supposed to be you. What we had…I’ve never been able to find that again...I constantly feel like a piece of something is missing and I’ve never been able to settle down because I couldn’t find it.”

My forehead pressed against his as I reached to rub my fingers through his shaggy curls, “I can relate…I’ve felt that way too.”

There was a low hum of energy passing between us. The same way it had all those years ago. I had never felt that with anyone else and it was absolutely killing me that we couldn’t explore it further. I briefly wondered if that hum was the universe’s way of telling us that our missing pieces had been found, but quickly dismissed the thought because it could never be.

Frankie’s eyes fluttered closed, enjoying the feel of my touch. I wanted to kiss him but knew I couldn’t. It would be wrong. I had to force myself to pull away from him. He looked dejected from the loss of my touch.

His eyes finally met mine, “So, whatta we do now?”

I sighed, “What can we do? I mean, we’re on our own paths now. We couldn’t be further apart.”

“Can we at least stay in touch this time? I’d like to check in with you every once in a while.” he asked.

I gave him a small smile, “You have my number.”

He snorted, “I have a google voice number. What’s that about anyway?”

I laughed, “I use it for work. I don’t want clients to have my actual cell number.”

He nodded, “That’s smart, actually. Maybe I should set that up too. Vic may lose her shit if she finds another woman’s number in my phone.”

“OOH, she’s one of those,” I said with a chuckle.

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, she’s very jealous. She got upset because you bumped into me. She didn’t like the way you looked at me.”

I gave him a tight smile, “Well, to be fair…that probably was an odd exchange to anyone who saw it. I was taken off guard.”

We were interrupted by a sliding door again, except this time it was Frankie’s. I dipped behind the wall as Frankie had earlier. My stomach was in my throat as I listened to their exchange.

“Baby, why did you leave me? Couldn’t sleep?” she asked.

“No, I couldn’t. Lemme finish my beer, and I’ll come back to bed. Ok?”

I could hear them kissing. I suddenly felt sick.

“Don’t take too long. I need you,” she said with a suggestive tone.

My breathing spiked as I fought back tears. I couldn’t take this.

“I-I’ll be in shortly, OK? I need a few minutes.” His voice sounded strained. I’m sure this had to be uncomfortable knowing that I could hear their conversation.

I heard her huff loudly followed by the sound of the door closing. I took a deep breath, trying to pull it together before I faced him again. Once I was sure she was gone, I moved back over to the railing. Frankie dug the palm of his free hand into his eyes before he met my gaze.

“I’m sorry about that. She tends to be pushy and doesn't know how to handle my PTSD issues. She smothers me and gets frustrated when I don’t respond the way she expects.”

I grimaced, “You have PTSD?”

His eyes now looked vacant as he stared at me, “Yeah, I have trouble sleeping because of it. That seems to bother her for some reason.”

My heart hurt for him. I could only imagine the things he had seen. He turned to face the water, downing the last of his beer, then picked up the second bottle. He looked lost as he stared off into the darkness of the ocean. I would have given anything to be able to hug him, to settle the storm that was brewing inside of his mind. This was beginning to be too much.

He turned to me suddenly. His brows pinched together as he spoke, “We’re leaving tomorrow, so I guess this is all the time we’ll get together…but I’m glad we got this at least.”

I nodded, “Yeah, it’s nice to have some sort of closure. I worried that something had happened to you, and I would never know.”

He shook his head, “Why do I feel like you're telling me goodbye?”

I shrugged, “Aren’t I? It’s not like we can be friends, Frankie…” I shook my head as a tear slid down my cheek, “I don’t think I could…not now.”

He reached for me, pulling me as close as he could with the railing between us. He cupped my cheek as his forehead leaned against mine, “Te amo, mi sol. (I love you, my sun) Always have. Please don’t forget that.”

The tears were pouring out of me now. I couldn’t help it. He pulled away, placing both hands on my face, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “Promise me you won’t forget.” I nodded. I couldn’t say the words back. It hurt too much to speak them aloud. He gave me a chaste kiss on the forehead. This was our goodbye. We both knew it, but neither of us wanted to say it.

He pulled away, “I need to get back in there…if I stay…I…” He shook his head from side to side, unable to finish the sentence.

“I know...It’s ok. Go,” I replied in a soft whisper.

I could see his eyes glistening in the moonlight as his broad form turned to go inside. In my heart, I knew this would be the last time I would see him. I felt like he had died as I sat down on the lounge chair. I stayed there and cried well into the early morning hours, mourning his loss and the life that we could have had together. At least I knew now, even if it hurt more.

Three Months Later

I was sitting in my car finishing up a call with a client. As I ended the call, I realized I had a message notification. When I switched to view the messages, Frankie’s name was bolded to show it was from him. I hadn’t heard from Frankie since that night on the balcony. I had been actively working to forget about him as I navigated all of the new major changes in my life. Part of me wanted to delete it without reading. Another part wondered if maybe his circumstances had changed too. My heart pounded in my ears at the thought. My thumb swiped left, then hovered over the delete button.

I sighed, “Fuck.”

I swiped right, then clicked the message to open it.

Frankie: I’m getting married next Wednesday. Please tell me I’m doing the right thing.

Something about the message pulled at my heart, but also pissed me off. I wasn’t going to be his excuse for an out. I couldn’t make that decision for him. I debated on a response, but in the end, I left him on read.

I couldn’t ignore it though. Actually, it was eating me alive inside to know he was getting married. I wished he hadn't told me when it was happening. I would have been better off not knowing the day. It would have been easier to forget not knowing the specifics.

As the week wore on, I couldn’t handle it anymore. I needed a change of scenery, so I called into work and requested the following week off. I needed to go back to our place and mourn properly, without Chris’s incessant buzzing in my ear this time. It was the only way to put Frankie behind me.

I spent Monday and Tuesday in his suite, crying like a fool and reading through all of his letters that I had saved in a shoebox. My intention was to burn them. To rid myself of the memories of him for good.

On those late nights, I sat on his balcony, allowing every memory I could recall to play through my mind as I stared off into the dark void of the ocean. It was torture, but I needed to get it all out of my system. I needed to get him out of my system.

On Wednesday, I sat staring at his last message, battling with myself about responding. Something told me if I said the words, he would end it all and be here in an instant, but I couldn’t do it. It would be wrong. It needed to be his decision, if there was even a decision to be made. I knew him. He was too damn honorable. He would go through with it no matter what because he had a responsibility to do so.

As the sun began to set over the rolling waves, I made my way down to the beach. I was all cried out by this point, but that didn’t make what I was about to do any less painful. I knew that if I got rid of his letters, what memories I had left of him would begin to fade over time and I could finally let him go. After starting a small fire, I sat staring at the flames, second guessing my choice.

A familiar baritone voice pulled me from my thoughts, “What are you doing?”

My eyes flicked up to the figure now standing before me, with shaggy hair that was messy and wind-blown. It was Frankie. I was shocked and confused, “W-Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be walking down the aisle?”

A sad smile formed on his lips as he sat down beside me. His eyes focused on the endless horizon that stretched in front of us, “We called it off.”

My breath hitched, I shouldn’t be excited about this, but I was. “Why?”

He sighed, “Well, at her doctor's appointment on Monday, they said she was further along than what I was led to believe…which means it’s not my kid. I was still on my last deployment. That’s why she’d been going to her appointments alone until I insisted. She knew the whole time.”

I gave him a sympathetic look, “Oh Frankie, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, “I’m not. I was fucking miserable. She admitted she was cheating on me the whole time I was gone. I had a feeling something was going on, but I didn’t know what and had no proof... I decided to come here while I figured out my next steps.”

His eyes met mine, “Now the even bigger question is…why are you here?”

I laughed nervously, my eyes shifting to look anywhere but at him, “Saying my goodbyes to you.”

His eyes drifted to the box sitting in front of me, “Are those my letters?”

I nodded, “They are.”

He reached down, thumbing through them as he asked, “Were you gonna burn them?”

My brows furrowed, “I was. I needed to forget so I could move on.”

His lips set into a tight line as he nodded, “So, you here with your other half this time?”

I shook my head, squinting from the last rays of light that were shining into my eyes as I looked at him, “I no longer have another half. I couldn’t take it anymore. I broke it off about two months ago.”

He gave me a dimpled smile, leaning in closer as he pointed to the box, “How about you don’t burn my letters, and instead, let me fill up that empty space with yours.”

I gave him a disbelieving laugh, “My letters? You still have them?”

He smiled, causing his eyes to crinkle at the corners, “Of course. I couldn’t let you go either, mi sol. They’re the only thing that’s stayed with me since I left Texas.”

His hand found its way to my cheek as he pressed his forehead to mine. The rush I felt from his touch was something that I knew I would never feel with anyone else. I’ve craved it every day since I’ve been without him. Knowing that we were both free to be together now only heightened the feeling.

He pulled away, “Where are you staying this time?”

I smiled, “Your suite.”

He snickered, “Ahh, so you’re the reason I couldn’t get it, huh?”

My teeth sunk into my bottom lip as I fought a smile and nodded.

“Well, sadly your suite wasn’t open either. I guess that’s what I get for booking at the absolute last minute. I got stuck one floor down,” he gave me his best pouty face.

I couldn’t help laughing at him, “If it means that much to you, I’d be happy to let you have your suite back.”

Frankie scooted closer and wrapped his arm around my back, allowing his hand to rest on my hip, “I only want it if it comes with you in it.”

My head lowered to lay on his shoulder, “That’s the only way it comes.”

We sat in silence for some time. Huddled in each other’s embrace, watching storm clouds roll in over the ocean. The waves became choppier the closer they got. The ocean seemed to mirror the nervousness I was suddenly feeling. Something that I had wanted for so long was finally possible and it scared the hell out of me. Part of me was questioning if this was even really happening. It seemed surreal.

Frankie shifted, kissing my forehead before mumbling against my hair, “We should probably get inside before we get rained on.”

I nodded, sitting up and reaching for the shoebox and placing the lid on top. Frankie stood, turning to pull me up with him. I watched as he kicked mounds of sand on top of the small fire to put it out. Then, he took my hand, I trailed behind as he led us into the resort.

Once we reached the lobby, he turned to me, “You’re sure you want me to stay with you?”

I gave him a shy smile and nodded. He almost looked relieved as his lips tugged upward, “Alright, I’m gonna go get my room sorted out and grab my stuff. I’ll be up shortly.”

I was in a daze as I walked over to the elevator, still not believing this was happening. After making my way to our suite, I closed the door, but didn’t latch it completely so Frankie could come in when he was ready. I decided to wait for him on the balcony, leaving the sliding door open so that he would know where I was.

In the distance, I could see the rain falling into the ocean. Something about it was comforting, almost like we were being cleansed of the unhappiness we had been living in - a renewal of sorts. It was like a new beginning was on the horizon. Thunder rolled quietly in the distance, masking the sound of Frankie’s bare footsteps as he approached me from behind. His arms snaked around my waist, causing me to sink back into him. His lips grazed against the shell of my ear, “How does it feel to be on this side of the railing?”

I smiled, “Better now that you’re here with me.”

He huffed out a quiet laugh against my cheek, just as his right arm released me. His hand moved to the back of my neck to gather my hair and pull it to the side as his lips left small kisses across the newly exposed skin. I could feel his touch all the way down to my fingertips and toes. It felt more amazing than I could have imagined.

His right arm reached back around my shoulders, his large hand resting just under my chin to tilt my face toward his. Being this close to him with nothing separating us had me vibrating as he nuzzled his nose against mine. I turned in his arms, closing the distance between us. Our lips tentatively explored each other at first. Frankie pulled me in tighter, deepening the kiss as my hand made its way upward to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. His tongue expertly explored mine as he moaned quietly into my mouth.

I was suddenly feeling every emotion all at once. I never thought this day would happen, didn't think it was even possible. It was almost overwhelming, causing tears to gather in my eyes as I held on to him like he was going to disappear into thin air. The tears spilled down my cheeks just as he pulled away. His eyes were full of emotion too, his hands moving to wipe away the moisture from my face. His forehead pressed against mine as he sighed almost in relief, “Is this real? Because I feel like I’m stuck in one of my dreams...”

I nodded, grabbing hold of his wrists as his hands cupped my cheeks, “I feel like I am too, but it’s real. We’re here…together.”

Frankie smiled against my lips, pulling me in for a chaste kiss just as the rain began falling around us. We stepped back further into the alcove of the balcony to avoid getting soaked, laughing as we took each other into a tight embrace. Our lips crashed together, both of us now needing more. It became urgent with an all-consuming passion as I pushed him toward the open door, peeling his shirt over his head as he stumbled backwards through the threshold.

Our clothes littered the floor of the suite from the living room to the bedroom. Our bodies broke apart along the way just long enough to remove the cumbersome fabrics, only to be drawn back together like two magnets. Once the back of my legs hit the bed, I sank down. Scooting up to the center as Frankie trailed behind me, placing kisses on whatever part of my skin was the closest.

As I settled into the plush bedding, his mouth met mine again. First, gently sucking my bottom lip before seeking entrance and massaging my tongue with his. We went on like that for some time, allowing our hands to explore each other’s body’s and grinding against one another. My body felt like it was on fire, skin prickling from his touch. It was unlike anything I had ever felt.

Frankie’s mouth began to move downward - caressing my neck, breasts, and stomach. He placed soft kisses and licks between whispering sweet words against my flesh.

“Mi sol.” Kiss. (My sun.)

“Mi vida.” Kiss. (My life)

“Mi todo.” Kiss. (My everything.)

“Never letting you go.” Kiss.

“Never again.” Kiss.

His words were like an electric current that ran straight to my core. His large calloused hands slid down the length of my body alternating between light touches and firm kneading of my skin, awakening something inside me that I had long thought dead.

By the time his lips reached the apex of my thighs, I was already coming undone. His tongue danced around the bundle of nerves, causing my muscles to tremble. My fingers reached down to twist in his messy hair as I arched up into him. He settled in, lifting my legs over his shoulders and gripping my hips, not holding back as his mouth worked me over. The stubble of his patchy beard brushed against my most sensitive areas, creating a new sensation that had me begging for more. Once his fingers joined in, I didn’t stand a chance. After a few curls against that special spongy spot, I was seeing stars. Falling over the edge and moaning out incoherent words.

After working me through it. I could feel him smiling against my thigh as he planted a few kisses there before standing and disappearing from my sight. I could hear him rummaging around through his bag before coming back to the bed and settling on his knees between my thighs. He tucked a small square packet between his teeth before stroking himself with one hand and rubbing at my thigh with the other. I watched his face as his eyes explored my body. They were blown black with his arousal. His messy curls hung down over his forehead, beginning to stick to the sweat forming on his brow.

I took this time to take in his form, his arms and chest flexed with his movements - emphasizing how defined they now were. His abs were less defined, but I could still see them tensing as his breathing picked up from the anticipation of what was to come. I also noticed the scars. Those were new. One near his upper right shoulder and another on his lower left abdomen. Something about them made my heart clench in my chest. I couldn’t look at them anymore, now shifting my eyes down further to watch as he slid the condom over his girthy length. His size was bigger than I expected, but I was ready for him.

I reached my arms out toward him, “Frankie, please…I can’t wait any longer. I need you.”

He smirked, “Un momento, mi sol. I wanna savor this sight… savor you. I’ve waited too long to rush this.” (One moment, my sun.)

His voice was lower than I had ever heard it, and his words only spurred my need. The ache that I now had for him was almost unbearable. I couldn’t wait.

“Frankie, I need to feel you… please.”

He leaned down, rubbing himself along my entrance. My hips had a mind of their own as they bucked against him, seeking more - needing more. He chuckled at my eagerness, now pushing in slowly. He hissed through his teeth once he was buried to the hilt, seeming to need a few seconds to compose himself. He leaned down, propping himself on his elbows as he began to move, thrusting slowly as he took my mouth with his. I wrapped my legs around his hips, meeting his thrusts, swallowing his moans.

His lips moved to my ear, “Fuck, I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I took this from us.”

I held him tighter, “You didn’t take anything from us. We’re here now. It’s ok.”

His eyes met mine before he leaned down to nuzzle our noses together, “Never again.”

I pulled him into a searing kiss as the tension at my center began to build for a second time. The intimacy of the moment and the way the base of his length was rubbing against me sent me over the edge. I tensed around him as he increased the pace of his thrusts, groaning loudly into my neck as he fell over the edge with me.

He raised up to lean his head against mine, panting heavily as he spoke against my mouth, “I love you. Always have…”

I smiled, “I’ve always loved you too.”

A slow lingering kiss followed, before he finally pulled away. He reached between us to secure the condom as he pulled out with a quiet groan. I watched as he walked to the adjoining bathroom to dispose of it. He wasted no time, returning to join me under the duvet and pulling me against his chest.

We were quiet for a time, just enjoying the feel of being in each other’s arms. His right hand rubbed lightly up and down my spine as mine ran over his chest. My fingertips involuntarily moved to seek out the scar on his lower abdomen. His left hand captured my fingers and brought them to lay on his chest, where I could feel his heart beating away under my palm.

“It’s from a gunshot. So is the one on my shoulder,” he said in a somewhat detached voice. I hugged him a little tighter and tangled my leg with his.

“I was in the middle of a lot of bad shit when I was deployed…done a lot of bad shit. Mentally, it fucked me up for a while…but thoughts of finding you got me through it.”

My fingers moved to trace the bullseye tattoo on his left hand between his thumb and pointer finger. That was new too. I found something about it to be incredibly sexy.

“Do you have any more of these?” I asked.

He laughed quietly, “I do. I’m almost embarrassed to show it to you though.”

My head popped up to look at him as he smiled shyly at me.

“Why? Show me?”

He raised his left arm so that he could remove the watch he was wearing. After tossing the watch on the nightstand, he turned his wrist to face upward so I could see it. In a script small enough to be hidden by his watch band, were the words ‘All that separates us is time.’

My hand moved to my mouth as I gasped, “That’s from one of my letters...”

I pulled it closer so that I could give it a proper look, “Is…is that my handwriting too?”

He laughed, tightening his right arm back around me, “Yes, it is. It was my way of keeping you with me.”

I could feel the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes again. I had to fight them back as I leaned up to give him a lingering kiss to show my appreciation.

“So, where have you been all this time?” I asked after settling back down on his chest.

He leaned his head closer, lips brushing against my hair as he spoke, “When I wasn’t deployed, I was in Florida.”

I scoffed, “And here I was mostly looking in Texas.”

He squeezed me a little tighter, “I’m sorry.”

I chuckled, “Doesn’t matter…even if you had stayed there, I probably still would’ve had a hard time finding you. Did you know that the last name Morales is the 63rd most common last name in the United States? Don’t even get me started on how many of those have a first name of Francisco.”

He snorted, “You haven’t changed at all.”

I snickered, “No, in some ways I haven’t.”

My fingertips began to trace patterns in the freckles on his chest as his strummed through my hair.

“What did you end up doing, career wise?” he asked.

I smiled, knowing he wouldn’t be surprised, “I’m an editor at a major publishing house.”

He raised his head to look down at me, “No shit? Really?”

I nodded.

A wide smile spread across his face, “That…makes me happy and really proud. I know that was something you wanted.”

“What’re you doing now that you’re out of the military?” I asked.

He shrugged and laughed nervously, “I was working odd jobs while I tried to figure it out. Honestly, my life is a mess right now. I’ve no idea what I’m doing…and as of two days ago, I’m homeless. Everything I own is packed up in those two duffels. I also spent a good chunk of my savings on a kid that’s not even mine.”

I sighed, “Damn…that is a mess.”

I felt Frankie nod, “Yeah, but I’ve been in worse situations. It’ll all work out in the end. I’m sure of it.”

He shifted, scooting down to lay on his side to face me, “What about your writing though? I remember how important that was to you…I always loved when you would include bits of poetry with your letters. I mean your letters were poetry in and of themselves...”

I smiled, reaching up to rub my thumb over the bare heart-shaped patch in his beard, “I started a novel, but I haven’t been able to finish it.”

The creases between his brows deepened, “Why not?”

I watched my fingers brush through his messy curls, now noticing the smattering of gray strands throughout. My eyes shifted to his as I spoke, “Because I didn’t know the ending yet. I still wasn’t sure if it was a romance or a tale of star-crossed lovers that ended in tragedy.”

He smirked as his hand slid down my side and grasped my hip, “What about now?

My hand moved to cup his cheek, “I think it’s gonna be a romance about reconnecting with your first love and getting a second chance at a new beginning.”

Frankie smiled, snuggling in closer as he nuzzled his nose with mine. “Whatta we do now?”

I kissed him, breaking away with a shy smile to ask, “How do you feel about Massachusetts? I’ve got a king bed and a house that feels empty with only me in it.”

Frankie’s arms tightened around me, pulling my body flush against his. “That sounds like a new beginning to me.”

And it was.

👉Fun Fact: Why does Frankie call Elena “mi sol” (my sun)? The name ‘Elena’ is Greek in origin and means ‘shining light.’

A/N: Thank you for joining me on my very first and very random Frankie fic. I'm normally a Dieter girl, so this was a little different for me. I do hope you all enjoyed it. 💜😘

Comments and reblogs are appreciated.

👉 Not sure who out of my regulars are interested in Frankie, so feel free to ignore if you're not. We shall return to our regularly scheduled Dieter Bravo shenanigans after this.

NP Tags: @alokaerza @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @annalovesflorida @annieispunk @auteurdelabre

@avastrasposts @babycatkitty @bitchwitch1981 @bunniboo0015 @burntheedges

@cakipy-blog @chaoticfestninja @copperhalfcent @darkheartgatita @fifitheragertot

@for-a-longlongtime @girlofchaos @guelyury @gwendibleywrites @harriedandharassed

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@trulybetty @txlady37 @wannab-urs @weho2kcmo @yghuibt

@lady-bess @nerdieforpedro @din-cognito @joels-darlin

Folks who interacted with the teaser post: @eff4freddie @maryfanson @christinamadsen @morallyinept @sonnestrandmeer

@76bookworm76 @lizzie-cakes @jensensational71 @suziesc @cheekychaos28

@fpsantiago @pedrostories

Credits: Shell divider courtesy of @kaitsawamura

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #triple frontier #frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x ofc #oneshot #frankie morales fic rec #frankie morales one shot fic rec #tropeoff2024 #second chance at love

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kanmom51 · 4 months ago

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Like Crazy - new insights

*This is a reposting of my latest reblog due to issues with that specific post.

***This has been sitting in my drafts since April 2023!!!

This is the post I reblogged and the basis to my own post.

Yep. I had some of a post written way back in April 2023, but the pieces just didn't come all together for me.

After Muse's release and specifically after the BTB yesterday where JM discussed Who, Muse and the lyrics, we also saw the change made to Who's lyrics from "you" to "she" things started to clear up for me. But then, a friend also shared a picture of the original lyrics of Like Crazy, which were subsequently altered before recording. We discussed these changes and I now feel that this is it! This is the missing piece to my post.

I mostly left what I wrote over a year ago in tact, adding the missing pieces to this puzzle that makes this post with what I feel is a little more insight into Like crazy.

Needless to say, these are my opinions, how I see the lyrics, the ones that made the cut and the ones that stayed in JM's lyrics journal.

So, let's get started:

Here I was thinking I'm the only one who was seeing this...

I do hope I'm reading this right, before going off motormouth about something that maybe isn't what is being said, but to hell with it, this is something I've been thinking too and I'm just gonna come out and say it.

We're all over 18 here right?

This is a subject we can talk about?

The more I listen to this song, the more I think it to be true too.

First of all, before starting off, I want to link this ask:

**Shock and awe... "she" wasn't part of the original lyrics for Like Crazy . Colour me surprised to learn the same is true with Who (even though JM didn't actually write the song himself). Oh, and if we are on that subject already, how not surprising to see the process of writing the song with John Billion, who happens to be one of the writers of SNTY as well (me sitting here thinking of several words and references that could have been somehow suggested and inserted into the song. No idea who (nah, I'm telling lies, I know exactly who). How shocking (NOT) to see that the artist actually had input with the song lyrics of which he is not credited in writing.

Again, the depth of the song, the layers to the song and the multiple interpretations too.

JM told us this song is about him struggling. He told us he was going through a period where he was drinking too much. He was finding fulfillment in ways other than performing, as performing is part of him, he is a performer, someone who needs the stage to express himself. The stage is where he is at peace, the stage being a piece of him that he was missing.

We saw his outburst of emotions in the first day of MOTS ON:E (that was my first experience of BTS and he literally broke my heart - and later seeing him being mocked for it infuriated me).

This was October 2020, around 6 months into the pandemic. The uncertainty. This is their first online performance and from there until Muster another 9 months go by. We know from Festa 2022 that the pandemic screwed up all of their plans. The uncertainty, working on and releasing BE and then Butter and PTD everything leading up to the PTD online concert, a year after MOTS ON:E. For those that performing is their life, standing in front of an audience and giving it their all, it's a hard pill to swallow. The unknown, if they will ever get back to perform on stage in front of a live audience, when this is who they are, their essence, it can be unbearable. JM wasn't the only performer to go through this. It's just that he shared this with us. He showed us his pain and vulnerability and was mocked for it by many. Shame on them!!!

So, again, JM told us with Like Crazy, that he was filling in that hole. Alcohol was mentioned by him specifically. But listening to the song, I think it's quite clear that sex was a very big part of it as well. Looking for that rush, that high. It's clear as day, for me anyway, in the lyrics.

(I think we could last forever I'm afraid that everything will disappear Just trust me)

[Verse 1] She's saying Baby, don't think about it There's not a bad thing here tonight Baby, you can leave it Stay with me until today

[Verse 2] Watch me go Wet me all night (Away) And morning too Don't come if you're drunk

In this loud music It fades me It's a drama-like story I'm get used to it Have you come far to find me that you used to know? Yeah, I know You know, I know (Ooh)

[Chorus] I'd rather be Lost in the lights Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind It holds to the end of this night Every night You spin me up high The moon that embraces you Let me have a taste

[Post-Chorus] Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') It's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever you and I

[Interlude] Mmm-hmm Yeah, hey Mmm-hmm Ooh-woah Mmm-hmm Mmm-hmm (Forever, you and I)

[Verse 3] Me reflects in the mirror I'm going crazy without hesitation I'm feelin' so alive, wasting time

I'd rather be Lost in the lights Lost in the lights I'm outta my mind It holds to the end of this night Every night You spin me up high The moon that embraces you Let me have a taste

[Post-Chorus] Give me a good ride (Oh, I'm fallin', I'm fallin', I'm fallin') It's gon' be a good night (Oh, I'm fallin') Forever you and I

[Outro] This will break me This is gonna break me (Break me) No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

Those are the lyrics he recorded.

But you see, there were changes made to the lyrics he was working on originally, and we got to see some of them.

This specifically:

Reading this draft and the final ones there are a few things that just fall into place for me (and I'd think for anyone that reads them), loud and clear:

First of all, obviously JM is singing about drinking too much alcohol. If the final lyrics hinted to losing himself in alcohol, the draft lyrics are ever so clear regarding that point.

Second of all, the sex. I think JM was pretty straight forward using the wording he was using. "Give me a good ride" can be other things, if you twist it around to try and explain it away, but bottom line, those lines within the context of the lines in the draft, like "just go turn off the light, you and me..." not to mention the whole chorus, to me the reference is obvious.

Next, I talked about the many references to JK in this song in this post:

This is all also relevant when it comes to my next point being the fact that to me it's clear that JM wrote this song referencing a special someone with whom he shares a high level of intimacy. A special someone that was there by his side when JM was struggling. A special someone that was struggling seeing JM going through everything he was.

To that person JM wrote (in the draft): "oh baby don't you cry, just wanna see your smile..."

These lines, they were too much. Too obvious. Too intimate. And they were left out probably because of just that.

So JM went with other lines. A little less obvious perhaps, and yet still very telling. The finale of the song:

No, don’t you wake me (Wake me) I wanna stay in this dream, don't save me Don't you try to save me (Save me) I need a way we (Way we) I need a way we can dream on (On, on, on)

Now, you could claim that the song is about an inner struggle. JM struggling with himself, talking to himself, and yes, that could very much be part of the message JM, the king of layering, is going for. But see, that's exactly the point. JM is the king of layering, of having several meanings and messages within his lyrics and creations. And this is not different. There is no mistaking the reference to another person, not JM himself, in the lyrics. The way he uses the "you" in the lyrics, at times could pass as you being the alcohol, at times the you being himself in the mirror, but at times it's clearly a third party he is talking to. Especially in that finale to the song, that someone that wants to lift him out of that stupor he is in, to wake him up, to save him, when he is unwilling, not ready to accept that help just yet (same person he asks not to cry, knowing that he is making them sad). There are also the clear JK references in this song. The "you are me I am you" being the loudest of them all.

But JM being JM, he showed us in his own way what this song was about, opening up and allowing us to see his drafts.

And then he gave us Letter. Hidden, and private and intimate. Addressed not to us, but to that person that was always there by his side, that person he addresses in Like Crazy telling him "forever you and I". Now, in Letter, being in a better, healthier place, he can repeat the sentiment of them together forever. A sentiment JK had mentioned in the past (omg, that was so very awkward).

And now using lines like : "I sincerely hope we are forever" and "But don’t forget that we’re always together"...

The lyrics, the sentiments, the drafted lyrics that never made it, like the use of "Dangshin", I have talked about it all. Letter was for JK. Period.

When seeing Like Crazy again, the lyrics, the struggle, the person by his side, the intimacy, and Letter, I'm kind of thinking that not only is Letter a love ode to JK. That is stating the obvious. But it's also JM's acknowledgement and thank you to that person that stood by his side in his most difficult of times.

JK.

Bottom line:

Like crazy is about JM struggling and self medicating with alcohol and sex.

It's personal about himself, his struggles, but also includes a person that is there by his side, one he is highly intimate with, one who is there with him together. That person is there, spending the nights with him, in that escape world JM created for himself. Sad seeing JM struggle, trying to find a way to help JM out of that pit but being unable to do so, staying by JM's side all the same.

We know who that person is.

Same person he addresses Letter to.

#Jikook #Kookmin #Minkook #Jungkook #Jimin #JM #JK #JM Like Crazy #JM Letter #Jikook Letter #Jikook Like Crazy

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exitpursuedbyavulcan · 2 years ago

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Studious III (Aemond Targaryen x Reader) 18+

In an attempt to help you understand his recent behavior, Prince Aemond you his diary to read. What will you find within?

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader (second person, no use of Y/N)

Warnings: non-graphic smut, perhaps Aegon's best commentary yet, more Aemond being an awkward idiot

Author's Note: The diary is being split into two part, which means this will turn into a six part series. Enjoy!

Read Part I Here - Read Part II Here

My Masterlist

Taglist will be done via reblogs (there are simply too many of you to fit here)

Studious III

Aemond’s diary was magnificently bound. The cover was made from supple, well-tanned black leather, which had likely cost a fortune by itself. The pages were so precisely cut that you had to run your finger across the edge several times for your nail to catch. And the paper itself was smooth and rich, far finer than any you had ever written on.

The benefits of being a Prince, you supposed.

You considered for quite some time whether to start reading Aemond’s diary – gods, he had given his diary, that gesture of trust would take more time to fully process – at the beginning or at the first ribbon. More than a dozen of them, each made of fine green velvet, were laid throughout the pages marking what he most wanted you to read.

Reasoning that the beginning was the most logical choice, you opened to the first page:

The 1st day in the first moon of the year.

It is after midnight that I am writing this, the very first moments of a new year. The Maesters believe it will be another year of summer, but time will tell.

The Small Council has begun making preparations for autumn, so the Crown will be ready the moment word arrives from the Citadel that winter is approaching. I have asked Grandsire to include me in these preparations so that I may learn how…

You looked away from the page, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

It wasn’t that it was boring, exactly. But it was pretty typical – nothing that revealed anything new about Aemond. Though you supposed the fact that he began a new diary on the first day of the year, rather than whenever you filled the journal you were using – as you did – said something about how regimented he was. Orderly.

Still, with each word, your gaze was drawn to the green ribbons. To the passages he most wanted you to read.

You suspected they were all passages relating to you.

So, with the promise that you would eventually return to find out what, exactly, he wanted to learn about the Crown’s preparations for winter, you grabbed the end of the first ribbon and let the pages fall…

The 16th day in the third moon of the year.

The betrothal has been settled. Finally.

I doubt I could have endured another miserable day of sitting in Grandsire’s study, listening to him read each of the letters sent by lords from throughout the realm, desperate to pawn their daughters off to a Prince of the Realm. Though I suppose I should be grateful he had already whittled the list down to only the two-score ladies he found the most politically advantageous.

Aegon told me that more than a hundred letters arrived. So, it could have been much worse.

Every letter was nearly the same, listing the family’s wealth and assets along with their daughters ‘accomplishments.’ In truth, calling them such seems far too generous. What does a scrap of embroidery or a reasonably well-played song truly accomplish, other than a few fleeting moments of mediocre beauty? It always fades.

Besides, every highborn lady is trained in the same skills, so they are hardly exceptional.

You frowned, looking up from the journal and at the dozens of examples of your own embroidery scattered throughout the room – including on the blanket you laid under. True, they were not always perfect, but you were proud of each and every one of them.

Then there was your little lyre, sitting by the sun. You hadn’t had the chance to play since coming to the capital, and you realised in that moment that you truly missed it. Once, it had been second nature to pick it up immediately upon waking and pluck nonsensically at the strings as your maids readied you for the day.

Those songs – if they could be called songs at all –were always your favourites. Wholly unique creations of your mind, never transposed, never to be played the same again. Briefly, you almost stood and retrieved the lyre, just to see what your hands would create in this moment.

But that would require setting down Aemond’s diary.

You looked back down at his words and frowned again. It took no small amount of time and effort to develop your skills. In fact, you were quite proud of what you had accomplished. No one was born knowing how to embroider or play music.

Neither was anyone born knowing how to wield a sword or ride a dragon.

Your frown faded at that thought, as you imagined how Aemond would look if you said that to him. The memory of him in the library when you snapped back at him, looking like a befuddled fish, returned to you. It was so enticing that you called for one of your maids to bring your diary, a pen, and ink.

Turning to the first blank page, you noted the date of Aemond’s offending entry and wrote out exactly how you would rebuff him if he had said such a thing to you.

Perhaps, when you were done reading, you would tell him.

The lady we chose – my betrothed now, I suppose – is the only one that could possibly be called ‘exceptional,’ even if only among her unimpressive peers.

I almost dismissed her, for the letter written by her father was almost entirely unremarkable.

She is accomplished, as all highborn ladies are. Her father wrote that she crafts beautiful embroidery, plays some instrument or another moderately well, and is an able conversationalist. I believe there was also something about flowers – she likes them, or grows them, or enjoys arranging them?

But none of this is truly remarkable. Indeed, as Grandsire read, I admit I was not giving him my full attention. Why would I? I had heard the same words at least a dozen times already.

And then – ‘much of her free time is spent in the library, and she can rarely be found without a book somewhere on her person, even if it is just a miniature concealed within her sleeve. She is quite brilliant, if it is not too presumptuous of me to say so.’

That I had not heard before.

You preened slightly as you read your father’s praise. While your mother admired your dedication to your studies, she also worried that your intellectual pursuits would frighten your suitors away. ‘No man wants a wife smarter than he is,’ she once said.

Your father, however, had encouraged it. Once, you went to his study to show him a new book you’d found, only to overhear his steward expressing his concerns about how much the new library acquisitions were too costly. Your father dismissed him and his ‘concerns.’

And it seemed the investment in your education paid off if it caught the attention of a Prince.

It piqued Grandsire’s interest as well. After he finished reading the letter of introduction, instead of moving on to the next girl, he turned to Mother and asked for her opinion – of both the lady and her family.

Mother did not have overwhelming praise, but neither did she have any complaints. They are not the most powerful ally, though they will strengthen our position adequately enough. The Lord and Lady are friendly, if a bit dull, so it would not be an annoyance if they were to visit King’s Landing after the wedding. And they are pious – her parents have made many journeys to Oldtown and the Starry Sept.

You picked up your pen to again write a rebuttal but stopped. It wasn’t a particularly kind assessment… but it wasn’t inaccurate. You loved your parents, but even you could admit they were ‘a bit dull.’

The miniature portrait that arrived along with the letter shows that her appearance is agreeable, is somewhat plain. Though I suspect that she will wish I could be called the same. Indeed, she will be lovely standing next to me. And Mother says she will look very fine in either green, black, or even red.

It is a good match – politically and strategically, of course.

And if she truly does enjoy reading so, if she is ‘brilliant’ as her father says…

Perhaps marriage will not be so bad.

I am under no illusions that this is, or ever will be, anything more than a political arrangement. An obligation on both our parts. I know that I am neither suited to nor deserving of love.

I have negotiated with Mother and Grandsire that her chambers will be far from mine. Within the Holdfast for her safety, but far enough away that she will not be forced to see me more than our duties require.

By both her father’s and my mother’s accounts, she is kind. I am not.

A political arrangement. That is all it will be – all it must be.

But I hope that in choosing her, I can find some companionship in the arrangement. At the very least, perhaps we can discuss our favourite books.

Any offence you took at being called ‘plain’ was overshadowed by the aching in your heart at seeing how little Aemond thought of himself.

Yes, he was scarred. But he was still achingly handsome.

As far as you knew, he had done nothing that would make him undeserving of love. Surely everyone was deserving of love. At least, that is what you were always taught by your Septa.

He had said some unkind things to you, but now… after reading his note, you knew they must not have been meant as such. He was trying to be kind. He just didn’t know quite how.

The urge to throw the diary aside and run to him immediately threatened to overwhelm you. But he asked that you read, so you could know and understand him. And you were not finished yet. So, after taking a moment to clear your head by writing out a list of your favourite books, you turned to the next marked page.

The 9th day in the fifth moon of the year.

The man who painted that portrait should be flogged. Publicly. Or hanged, perhaps. For he has done to my betrothed the gravest injustice.

She arrived today. And I have been forever changed.

There is no creature more beautiful in the world. Not even Sunfyre is as radiant as her. And that imbecile of an artist – if he can even be called such a thing – made her look plain.

I shall burn that portrait immediately, and locate a true artist. One who is capable of capturing her loveliness.

Though it may be that such a thing is impossible. For it is not just her appearance that is so enchanting, but indeed her every aspect.

Her voice is more beautiful than any other sound or music I have ever heard. And she speaks with such elegance and intelligence! The reports were true – she possesses a brilliant mind. There was so much I wanted to ask her, to discuss with her, but I found myself unable to say any of it.

The words were so clear in my mind, and yet my mouth would not move. I do not even know if I actually greeted her, or if I only thought to do so. I must have, or else Mother would have scolded me. I wonder what I said…

You laughed slightly. He had only said two things to you that first day. When you rose from your curtsy in the courtyard, the first time you had looked into his eye, all he had said was your name.

He had been entirely silent the rest of the day.

Then, as you exited the welcome feast later that night, he looked into your eyes again. Finally, after a moment of furious blinking, he had said your name again and then turned abruptly to leave.

The first of many times he had done so.

You had thought he simply hadn’t wanted to speak with you, but it seemed you were very, very wrong.

From that very first meeting… he liked you.

It was almost humorous how quickly he gave up on his declaration that your marriage would be nothing more than a ‘political arrangement.’

No, it was more than just humorous – it was hilarious. And more than a little flattering.

Stoic Prince Aemond, who since losing his eye had been as cold and unfeeling as stone, was practically smitten with you!

Suddenly, you realised that you were smiling so wide that your cheeks were beginning to burn, and in your delight, you had apparently kicked your legs about – your blanket now lay on the floor. But you didn’t care. You were blushing so much that you were perfectly warm, even in your flimsy nightgown.

And as you read further, your blushing did not stop.

The 10th day in the 5th month of the year

I spent nearly the entire day in her presence, and it has made me ever surer of my initial assessment – my feelings.

She is wonderful.

I was worried that, this morning, she would be different. That I would wake and find that my mind had played tricks on me yesterday, and she was not as beautiful, or sweet, or kind as I first thought. But, to my unending delight, she is all of it and more.

Mother and I met her and her own Lady Mother in the Royal Sept early this morning. When plans for the wedding were first being made, I did enquire about the ceremony being held not there, but in the Grand Sept. However, the request was firmly denied.

Grandsire gave me various explanations – that the expense was too great, that her family would be able to remain in King’s Landing for only a short time due to the coming winter, that the Grand Sept would be too busy preparing for the coming harvest celebration, and any number of other foolish things. I appreciate that he tried to shelter my pride, but it was unnecessary.

I know the real reason.

I am a Prince, but I am the third born. The second son. And my betrothed… she is the fifth born, if I remember correctly, although the eldest daughter.

I – we – are not worthy of the honour of being wed in the Grand Sept.

Perhaps if her family were more powerful, maybe one of the Great Houses…

Why do I even care? Being Wed in the Royal Sept is still an honour, and the gods will watch over us no matter where we say our vows. But still, I want it.

I want it for her.

I want to see her face alight as she enters the Sept and sees not only its magnificence but its each and every alcove filled with hundreds of people all there for her – for us.

We will both have to settle for the lesser beauty of the Royal Sept and a few dozen witnesses in place of the hundreds she deserves.

You would have loved to be wed in the Grand Sept – to have been given that great an honour.

But you had never considered it until reading Aemond’s words. And though you tried to make yourself share in his regret, you were unable to truly feel it. Nor could you feel any offence at his comments about your own importance and that of your house.

All you felt was a pang of sadness that Aemond considered himself so unworthy, as did his family, it seemed. After the sadness faded, there came a blossoming warmth in your chest, that he wanted it not for himself, but for you.

You picked up your pen to write something, but couldn’t think of what to say. That you wished he wasn’t a second son? That he was just as important as his elder brother, or his sister, the heir?

In the end, you simply wrote: ‘Thank you. Perhaps we can visit the Grand Sept soon. Together.’

At least there will be a suitably grand celebration after the ceremony.

Gods, am I actually looking forward to the feast? I hate feasts.

I hate the crowds, the overloud music that somehow does not drown out the din of the drunken guests gossiping like fools. I hate being forced to sit and watch while the people that claim to be noble and dignified gorge themselves like rats on obscenely rich food and repulsively strong wine. I hate all the cowering girls that approach me only because their fathers want to secure an advantageous marriage, who Mother always tries to make me dance with – oh, that’s it.

I will not have to listen to the music or the gossiping. I will not have to watch the crowd or dance with any girls who look at me as if I am some creature of the night.

It will just be me and her.

And the some three hundred guests mother has invited. But it will be bearable, so long as I can sit next to her, talk to her, dance with her.

Yet he never said a word to you at the feast, and danced with you but once.

‘I would have danced with you all night,’ you wrote. ‘If you’d only asked.’

Oh yes, I think I will like this feast very much.

She will as well, I am sure. With every detail Mother told her as we showed her the Great Hall for the first time, she looked so happy, so excited. She is not afraid of me – she is excited to marry me!

Though she did not speak to me beyond greeting me when I arrived… Perhaps it is a fault of mine, for I do not believe I spoke to her, either. I wanted to, but again, I could not find the words.

Of course, now that I am alone, I can think of a thousand things I want to say. A thousand things I want…

After dinner, I escorted her to her new chambers. We were chaperoned, of course, by our mothers. But even with their eyes upon us, when I brought her to that door… I wanted to follow her through it.

I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to touch her. I wanted… gods, I wanted all of it.

But it is not lust.

At least, not in its entirety. I would be a damnable liar if I did not say the very sight of her – of her sparkling eyes and the glimpse of her breasts the dress she wore today granted me – had me thinking sinful, unbecoming thoughts. I admit I am grateful my jacket disguised any evidence of where my mind was as I said goodnight.

I think I said goodnight – didn’t I?

You began to blush again, but it was of a different sort of bashfulness than before. For this wasn’t innocent compliments about your beauty or your wit. It was…

As much as Aemond tried to deny it, it was lust. He lusted for you.

It was a sin. You should have been disgusted. Offended.

Yet, you weren’t.

For you would also be a ‘damnable liar’ if you tried to say you hadn’t lusted for him either. Perhaps not before the wedding, but you had certainly desired him since.

But you certainly couldn’t write that down. So instead, you wrote that he had not said goodnight. He had looked like he might, but he only nodded slightly and left.

Is it truly a sin to list after the woman who is to be my wife? Or does it remain a sin until we are actually wed? I shall have to ask Eustace on the morrow.

Still, it is not only lust. For she is not only beautiful. She is kind, sweet, intelligent, and so, so good.

I fear I may love her.

Or, at the very least, it would be very easy to love her. And harder still to not.

I do not want to love her.

To love her would be to condemn myself to a life of perpetual misery, for I know she could never love me in return.

Nor would I want her to. No one should be forced to love someone like me – someone so broken and hateful.

Perhaps it would be kinder for both of us if I called off the betrothal. I am sure Grandsire could find a way to dissolve the arrangement without causing damage to her reputation. If my own must take the blame, I would gladly do it.

Something else was written at the end of that line, but it had been so thoroughly crossed out that you could not decipher it.

I cannot. I have known her little more than a day, but I know I must have her. Not just physically, but… I need her in my life.

She is the first light I have felt in many years, and perhaps it makes me the most selfish person alive, but I simply cannot go back into the dark.

So, the day after tomorrow, I will marry her.

Tonight, I will pray that tomorrow ends quickly. Perhaps I will attempt sleeping all the way through it, and hope I dream of her.

You felt a cracking in your chest. A hurt deeper than you had ever known. And it was not only for you, but for Aemond. For both of you.

‘I need her in my life.’ And yet almost as soon as you were wed, he left you.

In those first two weeks, you only ever saw Aemond in an official capacity. Was seeing you for only a few hours every day, wherein the both of you were almost entirely silent, really enough for him?

Of course, it wasn’t. He would not have come to your chamber again that night if it was. He would not have kissed you when you lay together or touched beyond what was required by duty. He would not have approached you again and again, even when he consistently angered you or made a fool of himself.

It took him longer than you wanted to that first time, and how he did so was almost always unexpected, but…

Aemond had made a habit of leaving you, but he always came back.

The weight of that realisation and the warmth and lightness it brought to your chest could not be lifted by even the largest of dragons. So, you did not ponder it any further, nor did you write anything down. There was, at once, too many things to say and yet not enough words to express them properly.

So instead, you turned the page so hard it nearly tore.

The 11th day in the 5th moon of the year.

Today did not pass quickly.

In fact, today may have actually lasted an entire year. Or at least it felt that way. I shall have to ask the Maesters to look into it.

Gods, if I make such a pathetic excuse for a joke in front of her, she will call off the wedding herself. Humour has never been my domain. But she does so like to laugh…

I will improve, as I hope my attempts to speak to her improve with time and practice. Or perhaps I can find a book on the theories and practices of comedy in the library. Unfortunately, I doubt such a book exists for talking to one’s wife.

With a small smile, you made another entry in your journal, noting each time he had made you laugh since the moment you met. True, he was not the funniest man you had ever met – not even close. But he had made you laugh more than a handful of times.

You thought he’d like to know it.

While I cannot say that today was the worst of my life – I do not imagine any day could be so terrible to usurp that title – I struggle to identify anything good I can report.

I did not sleep at all during the night. My mind was too occupied by thoughts of my betrothed. By the things I should have said to her these past two days and how she looks when she smiles. Gods, I do not think there is much in the world I want so much as to make her smile.

Did she think of me at the same time? Did thoughts of me keep her from sleep?

You had, in fact, had trouble sleeping. Though you could not say that it was because you were thinking of Aemond. Instead, it was mostly your worries that kept you awake, wondering whether the King and Queen liked you, if your dress would fit, and dreading the possibility of your misspeaking during the wedding ceremony.

Your thoughts of Aemond were few, and they, too, were mostly worries. But, then, he had said fewer words to you than you could count on your hands, so you were all but convinced he had not liked you. The fear that he would call off the wedding had loomed over your like a stormcloud.

And it was not an unfounded fear, apparently. Although his reasons for considering doing so were far different than you would have thought.

It was not only my mind that kept me awake but… other parts of me as well. When the hour grew very late, my thoughts drifted not to the wedding itself or the feast that will follow, but to the bedding.

Mother has insisted on a private bedding and no drunken escorts, after seeing how miserable Helaena’s ceremony made her. My poor sister didn’t emerge from her chamber for days afterwards, and Aegon was no help. He was drunk for an entire week after the wedding – or at least he was when he was at the Keep, which was rarely.

At least I have that. Finally, I will be alone with her.

I must stop considering it, or my body will again react to these sinful thoughts. For they are sinful – I asked Septon Eustace, and he confirmed that such thoughts remain sinful until we are wed. So, I will try and avoid them until that time.

There was a blotch of ink next to that last paragraph, which bled into the following pages through the small hole that had been pierced through the paper. As though…

The image of Aemond stabbing his pen into his journal in frustration came to you, making you smile. You picked up your own and wrote, ‘Some craftsman worked very hard to make you such a fine journal. It is quite rude of you to treat it with such brutality.’

I did not get to see her for more than a few moments today. She was late to dinner, as were both our mothers. They had been all but consumed by the preparations for tomorrow. They mentioned flowers and streamers, music and foods, and many comments about hair, jewels, and dresses that I simply did not understand.

And her damn father seemed more than happy to indulge them, asking so many questions about each detail that I was never once able to speak with her. Why he is so interested in ladies’ things, I do not know.

Everything else that happened today is hardly worth writing about. I rose early, trained until midday, briefly met with the tailor that made my wedding clothes and sat in on court.

Now, I take comfort that this damnable day is nearly ended, and I must wait only a few hours longer until we are wed. With luck, the sleep which eluded me last night will find me tonight, and I can pass the hours remaining in sweet dreams.

You remembered how you felt at dinner the day before – when Aemond was not there. The way you had felt his absence as though it were a missing limb. He had felt that way about you after less than two full days of knowing you.

If only you had as well. It would have saved much awkwardness and pain on both sides.

There was going back now. So, you read on.

The 12th day in the 5th moon of the year.

I am wed. We are wed. I am married – to her. To my wife.

She is my wife. She will be with me now, always. But… she is not here now.

Oh gods, why did I leave her room? I should have stayed there with her, or taken her back here. Fuck!

Several sharp, scrambling lines covered the rest of the page. Not even an attempt at language – just an expression of anger.

It was almost funny to think of. While you were lying in your bed with your skirt still hiked up around your waist, wondering if that would be the rest of your life, Aemond had been at his desk striking through the journal with his pen like it was a sword.

At least he knew he had been in the wrong?

I will start at the beginning, for I will go mad if I think too long about what I have just done – and what I should have done.

Today did not go exactly as I had planned.

Sleep again did not find me this past night. I simply laid abed, my mind racing and my cock hard. I just thought of her and longed for her and prayed that the sun would finally fucking rise.

Eventually, it did.

And not a moment later, servants came to dress me. I fear I may have been quite rude to them, but I was tired, and the wedding clothes felt much tighter than they did yesterday. I was left alone then to eat my fill before the official breakfast celebration, where I would be too busy receiving the guests to actually eat. But I could not– my stomach was roiling with nerves. I barely drank any of my tea, either.

I wondered what she was doing at that moment. If she was feeling what I was.

You had vomited from your nerves. Twice.

Your mother said it was only by some miracle that your dress was spared.

But there was no chance you would tell Aemond that.

I am almost grateful that Mother insisted on following the traditions of the Reach. For if I had to wait for the ceremony at midday with no distractions… I do know if I could have endured it.

Though, I do not know how I endured the breakfast either.

Every single person in the realm with even a drop of Hightower blood was there, all of them using the wedding as an excuse to curry favour with either the King, Mother, or Lord Hobert. The same as the other guests from the Reach and the few that came from the other kingdoms.

And then there was her family. Or at least the men of her family. Her father is one thing, but she has seven brothers! Seven! Though they were all perfectly polite, I am certain that they would be happy to kill me if I ever hurt her.

If I ever did – which I swear by all the gods I would never do – I would gladly let them. I’d even ask them to take their time and make it hurt.

There was also a great number of her cousins – who would also kill me if I hurt her. I lost count of how many there were, exactly, but it is enough to make a small army. Each of them brought gifts that were clearly meant for her, even though they were presented to me.

Aegon says I should simply be happy I received so many fine gifts – including two dozen swords and even more daggers – but I cannot stand being used like that.

At least my wife – my wife, my wife, my wife – only had to endure the company of the women in her family and not so many people who are practically strangers. I hope she liked her gifts and that she enjoyed her morning. The breakfasts are not a tradition where she is from. I do hope they did not displace any of her family traditions.

You did enjoy your breakfast ceremony. It was unusual at first, and you had to rely on the Queen and distant cousin who had married into the Reach to inform you precisely what you were meant to do.

And now, you were insatiably curious about the gifts from your brothers and cousins. Aemond had not told you about them…

‘Where have you hidden my presents, you rogue?’ you wrote in your journal.

Then, at last, the ceremony.

I remember very little of it, to be completely honest. But I shall never forget how she looked, or how the midday sun lit her in gold as she finally walked through the doors of the Royal Sept.

Writing this may damn me, but I do not care. She was is more beautiful than the Maiden.

Even when she is nervous, which she undoubtedly was. She never smiled entirely, but I could see one playing at her lovely lips.

Oh, and her voice when she swore her vows! I wish I possessed some kind of magic to capture that sound in a bottle, that I may listen to it whenever I wished.

Then I kissed her.

There was another blot of ink, as though he had hovered his pen over the page so long the ink dripped.

I do not possess the words to describe what I felt then.

Rumour has claimed that my heart shrivelled and died after that night on Driftmark. If that is true, then her kiss was a miracle from the gods, for it brought that dead thing back to life – back to such life that I felt I could do anything if she only wished me to.

Even as tears of something like joy began to fall from your eyes, you laughed, remembering what your eldest brother had said about that kiss, ‘It was the most awkward thing I’ve ever seen –I had to watch all our brother’s bedding ceremonies.’

If I had my way, I would have done away with the rest of the ceremony and the feast then and there. I just wanted her, and I didn’t want to wait. But the moment I pulled away from her, Eustace started praying again, and I just had to stand there in front of dozens of people, looking at her and allow myself thoughts that, as of that moment, were no longer sinful.

Thankfully, my wedding clothes were not as tight as I thought. For if they had been, Aegon would have surely teased me for being so obviously eager for my wife – my wife, my wife, my wife.

I was so very eager – damn it all, I shouldn’t have done this either – that I only danced with her once at the feast. If I held her in my arms a moment longer, I would not have been able to resist kissing her again or dragging her away to my chambers long before it was proper.

You almost wished he had dragged you away. Although, considering how the bedding went, perhaps not.

So, I left her to the dancefloor and the many men – and Helaena – that also wanted a turn with her. I remained at the head table, not eating or talking to anyone. Not that there was anyone to talk to. Mother and Grandsire were making rounds, Aegon was chasing women, Helaena was dancing with my wife… the only one at the table with me was the King. I have nothing to say to him.

I do not know if I sat there for five minutes or five hours, but finally, Mother called for the bedding. I did not hesitate.

I actually meant to take her to my chambers, but we ended up in hers. I do not know why. Perhaps… I think I just wanted to see them. Two nights, I left her at that door, aching to go in with her.

Tonight, I did.

I don’t know what I was expecting. Something heavenly? But it was just a room, like any other. Though, I did spy two books on her table. One was a fine but worn copy of the Seven-Pointed Star. Perhaps I will commission a new one for her, bound in her favourite colour.

What is her favourite colour? She is my wife, but I do not know. I should know. I should ask.

But I don’t know if I can ever face her again.

I don’t know what I did wrong. It didn’t feel wrong. It – I’m getting ahead of myself.

When we entered her bedchamber, I froze. I was looking at her bed – where I would take her maidenhead. Where we would hopefully produce our heir. And I just froze. Froze and prayed.

I prayed for knowledge, for the Seven know I have no idea what to do with a woman. I can’t even talk to her. How am I supposed to –

A small spot of angry, squiggling lines.

When I was done praying, which I think took an embarrassingly long time, she was standing before me, her head bowed. She might have been praying, too.

I asked if she wanted my help to remove the various pins and pearls in her hair. Mother and Helaena have both complained that they become uncomfortable after a while. And I know that losing their maidenhead is already uncomfortable enough for women, so it seemed the right thing to do.

Besides, she has such pretty hair. I wanted to help her. To touch her and to run my hands through that hair.

But she said no. She did not want my help.

She was so nervous that I could see her trembling as she shook her head. I did not want to make any more so, so I did not insist further.

Nor did I want to move about her room without her express permission, for I know I would not wish a stranger to snoop around mine.

Can I be called a stranger if we are married?

I did feel the temptation to go to that table and look at the other book there. I suspect it is her diary, for there was no title on the spine, and I believe there was a thin strap holding it closed, as the pages have grown worn. It even looked as though other pages or notes had been tucked inside.

She keeps a diary, just as I do. Just as I am doing now.

Is she writing in hers as well? At the very moment?

If she is, I fear whatever she writes will not be very kind to me.

While she was removing her hairpins, she made a noise. She was trying to hide it, but it was so godsdamned quiet in that room that I could still hear her. It was soft, almost like a whimper.

That one little noise almost pushed me over the edge. Perhaps it wouldn’t have it if I hadn’t been hard for hours, but… I couldn’t wait any longer.

I had planned to remove her clothes myself. It was to be tender and romantic. But I heard that noise, and then she came back to stand beside me, and I saw her loose hair and the barest hint of her breasts, and all my plans vanished.

So, like an idiot, I told her to get on the bed. Fully clothed. And she obeyed! My sweet, innocent wife, who does not know any better, got on the bed with her fucking shoes still on!

I love her. I really do. So, so much.

That’s probably the most ridiculous thing to make me realise it, but that was it.

It wasn’t her fault anyway. I’m the one that told her to lie down. So if either of us is an idiot, it is me.

But I didn’t want her to think I was an idiot, so I didn’t undress either. Instead, I just unlaced my trousers enough to set my cock free. I stroked myself a few times to ensure I was ready – Orwyle said it would be easier if I was as hard as possible.

Then she lifted her skirts. She was undoubtedly a maiden, but her mother must have told her something, as I didn’t have to ask her to do everything. Though I did have to let her know that I needed her legs open – she had them shut tight.

When I got on the bed, I kissed her again. But it didn’t feel the same as it did in the Sept. Then, her lips were soft against mine. She pressed her lips back against mine, if only slightly.

This time, she was utterly still. Her lips were cold.

I don’t think – she didn’t want me to kiss her. Or she was afraid to, or…

Another drop of ink.

She was afraid of me.

I couldn’t look at her anymore. She isn’t supposed to fear me. She is my wife. I thought she wouldn’t look at me… like everyone else.

So I stopped trying to make it romantic. I just did my duty.

But the female anatomy is more complex than I had assumed. I looked at her – I do not know a polite word for it – and I admit I was unsure how to proceed. When I was with that wh other woman –

What fucking ‘other woman?’

You felt your face heating with rage as you read the beginning of that sentence over and over. The idea that Aemond – your husband – had been with another woman and was thinking about her after your wedding night was infuriating beyond belief.

Even after he insinuated you were unintelligent, or insulted your beloved robe, or walked away from you again and again, you had never been this angry.

You had more than half a mind to toss the godsdamned diary in the fire, storm into his rooms, yell at him a good deal, and demand answers from him directly. But when you stood and approached the hearth, you could not do it.

Aemond had trusted you with his diary, including this. He had marked this entry specifically as one he wanted you to read. Perhaps he simply hadn’t remembered what he wrote – no. He was too meticulous, this man who had started his diary precisely on the first day of the year.

He knew exactly what he wrote and wanted you to read it anyway.

So, after sitting back on the couch, you did.

When I was with that wh other woman, I did not look at her. Not there. I did not want to. But I regret that now.

I reached out to feel her, to try and find – I don’t know if it’s the whole thing, inside and out, that is the ‘cunt,’ or if it is just the hole – to try and find her entrance. That’s a better word.

She didn’t like it. She pulled away from me.

I thought it might be because my hands were cold, but I have never felt cold, so I warmed them before continuing. Which she did let me do! We actually apologised to each other at the same time. It was almost sweet. Or it would have been if I wasn’t such a fucking idiot.

I tried to go slow when entering her. I really thought I had gone slow. It certainly felt slow.

When I was all the way inside her, it felt like – she felt like…

Several drops of ink.

Warm. She was warm, like sitting only a few feet away from a fire.

And soft, softer than anything I’ve ever felt before.

I don’t know how to describe how – her tightness. Not so much that it was difficult to enter her. I didn’t have to force my way in. I never would. Yes, there was some resistance at first, but after a moment, it was just right. Perfect, even.

How could she be so different from the whore? When Aegon brought me the Street of Silk and presented me with a line of women he had selected himself, he said it didn’t matter which one I picked. ‘A cunt is a cunt,’ he said. ‘You must simply choose which drapes you prefer.’

They are not the same.

Is it just because I love her? Because I actually wanted her, as I didn’t want the whore?

You didn’t think any sentence containing the word ‘whore’ could you make you smile. This one did. According to Aemond, you were better than a whore – you were perfect.

And he loved you.

He hadn’t been cold and distant that night because he didn’t want to lie with you, but because he wanted to so badly that he forgot his senses.

As your smile grew, you buried your face in the diary, grounding yourself in the smell of parchment and dried ink.

A few moments ago, you were ready to storm into Aemond’s chamber and unleash your anger upon him. Now, he once again had you giggling like a silly little girl. What power did he hold over you that allowed merely his words to have such an effect on you?

One word floated through your mind like a leaf on a breeze. A dangerous word, one which frightened you far too much to give voice to. Even if only in your mind.

Instead, you swallowed it and laid the diary back on your lap.

I thought that feeling… that she might feel it too. The euphoria that came with release meant that – that it meant something. That maybe I was mistaken when I thought she was afraid of me.

But when I went to kiss her again, she did not look as happy as I felt. She still looked afraid. Afraid and confused, like she was expecting more. Like I was not enough.

I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t face that look and what it meant. I can’t live in a world where she fears me. Where she does not want me as I want her.

I said that this marriage would only be a political arrangement, but I don’t want that anymore. I want more. I need more.

So, I left. I just… left.

If I were a man, I would go back there now. I would apologise and tell her that I loved her. That she is the most beautiful creature in the world and that I will do anything to make her happy.

But I am here, writing in this stupid fucking diary because I am too much a coward to face her.

I can’t just avoid her forever. She is my wife. I must see her again.

Thank the gods that we are not being sent on a royal progress. Not until we know for sure that the summer will last the year. But I will still see her. Tomorrow. She will be at court, at my side as my wife. And at dinner with the rest of the family.

Gods, what am I going to do?

Another stab in the page, this one not as fierce as the last.

I need help.

I’m sure Aegon is still at the feast if he hasn’t…

Not tonight. I am two days without rest, and I do not think I can restrain myself if Aegon makes untoward comments about her.

Tomorrow, I will ask for help. I have no other option.

I must see her smile again.

You ran your hand over the page, over the words that broke your heart again and again. As if in response, the pain in your stomach started once more. You reached for your teacup, only to find it empty.

Aemond’s diary fell from your lap as you sat up and leaned across the table to reach the teapot. It, too, was empty. “Damn,” you whispered.

Another pain came, accompanied by a sharp pang of hunger. Looking over to the window, you found the sun more than halfway across the sky. Had you really been reading for so long?

You wanted nothing more than to keep reading, but you knew hunger would only worsen the pain of your moon’s blood and possibly make you more likely to do something foolish, like go to Aemond before you had finished the diary.

So, you picked the journal up from the floor, marking your place with one of the green ribbons you had set aside, and stood.

Aemond’s words – his truths – would still be there after you ate and drank and perhaps called the Maester for something to ease your pain. For now, you would take some much-needed time to think through all you had read. All you had learned.

And you would write. While reading, you too often became caught in his words and neglected your own.

Aemond gave you his truth, so you would give him yours.

But after more raspberry tea. And a meat pie. And some tea cakes.

After all, he made you wait. Now it was his turn.

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