#this month in particular needs a good blessing

[happyheidi]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ. December will bring blessings.

ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

[kujiba]

【MAY THE LAND CONCEAL YOU DEAR GRACE】

୨୧ — ꒰ gn!reader | they/them prounouns | Sagau | cultish behavior

A/n: Heya! This is now a pov of what is happening to other nations across teyvat before and after the arrival of the reader! + Aether and paimon

Nations present: Mondstadt, Liyue, Inazuma

One / two / three / four / five

MONDSTAT, is where the creator had first landed and spreaded their blessings through the people's hearts and minds, of course. That did not exclude the archon of freedom himself, Barbatos.

Barbatos used to accompany (Name) through their vast journeys, being able to witness how life is formed within his own eyes, (Name) only using the palms of their hands that basked the people with warmth and comfort sending peace throughout the nations. He'd idolize and fanboyed over them for days and days without ever getting tired nor bored of talking, creating poets or songs just to spread their fame and story farther into the world of Teyvat.

Whenever (Name) requested someone to sing a melody for them, Barbatos was always the first to come knocking at their door with his iconic and trusty lyre he always held dear to him.

But now, their god had left and never came back for thousands of years. Barbatos, now taking the name of Venti would sit on a thick branch hanging off a tree and play a soft melody like he used to do countless days ago. He wanted to feel that comforting aura and vibe again while the tip of his fingers strummed the strings of his lyre, he wanted his god to be by his side forever till the sun would stop blazing, but now it likely didn't seem to happen anytime soon.

...

A blonde traveler and fairy came by today.

The Traveler helped resolve the issue with Dvalin and defeated some abyss mages behind the act, but alas. Good things would always come to an end since they left to go to the neighborhood nation, Liyue, ruled by the god of contracts, Morax.

Things come and things go, that was what Venti learned a long time ago from a dear companion of his. Yet, only after a few months of the Travelers departure, something new and unexpected came to his land.

A breathtaking person with the face of divinity along with an strong yet calming aura that seemed to heal any stressa a person had built up for years in a matter of seconds. That was just what Venti needed at the time since he was reminiscing of the past making him feel a bit down.

The winds were different today and Venti knew that, he felt an immense mount of nostalgia just by being at the presence of the stranger that was just a good distance away from him.

It wasn't just him that noticed it but some hilichurls, slimes, and other types of monsters curiosly went towards their direction but not too close that the person would be alarmed by the amount of monsters closing in on them.

But unfortunately his eyes didn't quite catch where the particular person went after that, much to his disappointment.

Just then, a papered letter fluttered down onto his thigh safely. Confusion crammed Venti's head while he tried to make sense of the letter that neatly laid on his thigh

"How weird"

He adjusted his sitting position better to a more comfortable and laid back one and then began carefully flipping open the letter to read it's contents on the paper.

Venti's eyes trailed along the words written on it and a sly smirk appeared on his face, An invitation to inazuma? Why not.

Liyue, had just finished a fight between osial and the people with the help of the adeptus. Of course, the main star being the infamous blonde traveler himself that took a big part in defeating the sea god.

"After all that fighting, Paimon wants to go and eat a whole buffet!" Paimon and Aether walked through the lively streets of Liyue with a relaxed attitude and vibe. Paimon chimed in "After this we'll have to go through Inazuma! But it would be tricky sinc- Traveler?" Paimon looked at Aether in worry, he had always been silent but today he seemed more down than usual.

"Is something wrong? Paimon will try and help!" Paimon reassured Aether to try and make the blonde feel better even for a slight moment.

Aether shaked his head and offered and forced small smile "It's nothing Paimon.. It's just, I still hadn't found any leads on my sister.." Aether grumbled to himself with bitterness occupied inside his mouth, everywhere they went somebody would be requesting help. It wasn't bad to help but for him to help people with such simple tasks who could do it on their own perfectly fine was.... Tiring.

Aether looked over to Paimon who smiled at him brightly, floating around him for a moment "Don't worry! Paimons sure there would be loads of leads to your sister! Teyvat is a pretty big world after all" Paimon placed both of her small hands behind her back and gave him a closed eyed smile. Soothing Aether a bit in the inside.

As Aether thought over his memories over the past months he stopped at a particular one. The conversation that he had with Amber when they were still at mondstadt. (referring to ch.1).

In the past, he would frequently feel someone taking over his body and controlling it, at first he was genuinely scared and terrified but after a while, he got used to it and didn't react when he randomly would wake up in a random area. It didn't cause him any harm since every time he did got his consciousness back all the monsters would be defeated and all would be left was loot for him to collect.

So why did he kinda felt something was missing after all this time? Was it because he didn't get possessed anymore? He must've gone insane then if he missed getting possessed.

But he had to admit.. It felt kinda nice, like someone was watching over him from afar and being his guardian...

Sure it would abruptly just take over his body in such random times that it would also caught him off guard, but sometimes he would wake up sitting down on a rock while there was a beautiful mix of copper and ruby at the sky before him.

Aether had mix feelings about this stuff, but he could confirm one thing inside his head; 'Whatever is out there is helping me out, Thanks.'

"Traveler are you coming or what!" Paimon shouted from a distance making Aether snap out of his monologuing "Be right there."

...

A youthful man with long silky brunette hair tied into a long low ponytail, he wore a brown and amber waistcoat that evened out his figure perfectly paired with slim black trouser, black dress boots and dark gloves. On his hand was a cup of green tea perfectly brewed to the right temperature where you could see little steams floating above the cup of tea.

The previous god of contracts who now took on the name Zhongli to mask his identity and blend along with the mortals residing at the Liyue Harbor. He brought his cup closer to his lips where he then blew off the steam and modestly took a sip, savoring the flavorful tea.

Infront of him was the relatively popular, Iron Tounge Tian who told and portrayed the numerous adventures and stories of the stone god to a crowd of people sitting down on a table.

Zhongli took one sip of his tea... And then another?

His amber eyes looked at the clear sky above, today wasn't that cloudy anymore after the fight with osial, aside from that there was something different and he felt it spread throughout every vein and bone inside his Body.

...

Morax was the complete opposite of himself in the present. In the past him and Barbatos would frequently fight over (Name), stating the other was spending way too much time with them. Their quarrel would mostly end with (Name) karate chopping the back of their necks so hard that they were in a coma for 143 days, both nations suprisingly not turning into a frenzy since (Name) multi tasked like a Chad and kept the people in line over the days Morax and Barbatos was unconscious.

In those days of course (Name) was not alone in keeping the people safe. Xiao, one of Morax's most beloved adeptus would be by (Name)'s side at all times, getting frequently flustered whenever they teased or praised Xiao since he would frequently save (Name) from any dangerous activities.

Morax had tried persuading (Name) into signing a contract of 'companionship' with him for eternity, But (Name) called out on his bullshit and told him what he wrote on the paper was like a marriage contract instead. This led Morax to experience the seven stages of grief, much to his disdain.

To (Name), Morax was an important companion to them, often helping and assisting them in their needs and teaching them ways they didn't knew existed inside the laws of Teyvat. But to Morax, what he felt was deeper and more complexed than what (Name) never thought to think of. Truly, he was a massive simp for (Name) only in the past (still is tbh).

But you should never get too attached to things that won't last forever. Morax's world crumbled before him when he had been informed that (Name) went missing and was never found, yet he refused to believe that. So for the past thousands of years he patiently waited at Liyue Harbor for their arrival, already planning on telling them a dozen of stories when they return back to his embrace.

And even now, as a mortal named Zhongli, he patiently waited at his usual spot where they would chatter for days non-stop, as if the world around them passed by so quickly that they couldn't grasp it in time.

Ah, his tea is running low.

Just as he was about to pour his cup to its fullest a snow white letter gently flew towards his tables direction. Zhongli acted quickly and catched the piece of paper in time out of instinct in his previous days.

Golden amber eyes inspected the words neatly written by pitch dark ink, his brows perking upwards by what was told.

"Huh, a request to meet at Inazuma?"

Zhongli muttered in a low voice, skeptical at first but then had a light bulb appear at the top of his head "Then... You must be there too right?, my dear companion."

Inazuma was a nation which locked away their people's freedom, ruled by the Raiden Shogun and their 'grace'. The people had believed that their 'grace' was the true one, not like the others who had been an Imposter all along. The two rulers had come to an agreement to proceed with the Vision Hunt Decree, where in people who had attained a vision would be immediately stripped away from its blessing.

And today was a special one. Their 'grace' had invited people around the world to join in a ceremonial festival, where people would savor the taste of their nation's meal's and drink to their hearts content, this joyfull festival was all thanks to their benevolent 'grace'.

This bold act was just to spread word throughout the world to further increase their 'grace' fame. Of course, their 'grace' never mentioned it to anyone but to themselves.

And like mice falling into a trap, less than a day Inazuma had been packed with various different individual's as they thought this was just a simple festival hosted out of the sweetness of their 'graces' heart.

And to their luck, a certain blonde traveler with his fairy companion had just arrived on boat. Their 'grace' had made sure to be on the Traveler's good side since they posed as a natural, distinguished tool for them to use.

Everything was going as planned for them.

...

So why did you have to appear infront of their 'grace'. you, who is the only true creator and God of this world stood before them.

Their grace...

No.

The Imposter looked at you dead in the eyes, as if saying 'why are you here?'. This wasn't supposed to happen, but you left them no choice, the Imposter had prepared for this kind of situation anyway.

A god can't exist if they're not breathing anyway.

"Don't look at me like that. I'm doing you a favor."

A woman wore a lilac colored kimono, her face having purple eyes and gradient light blue pupils, her braided hair reaching the same level as her calf which had a lovely shade of dark violet that becomes lighter at the ends. That woman's name is Beelzelbub.

Beelzelbub sat floating in her domain the Plane of Euthymia, created by her own consciousness. Her vessel the Raiden Shogun must be managing perfectly at Inazuma right?

...

Beelzelbub also known as Ei, couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong for a while now. She felt that something similar to a disaster was approaching on her doorstep, and she disliked everything about it.

Her plum eyes gazed at the voided sky above her, memories flooded into her mind one by one, each having a special place buried deep inside of her heart that she had hidden for a while now.

"I wonder if I continue to search through eternity, will I ever meet you again?" her words came out as a soft whisper, a message towards her grace that she deeply cared and valued for. Ei's mind was driven to many questions but all of them meeting a unfortunate dead end.

Ei was sorta like (Name)'s bodyguard hundreds of years ago, her along with Makoto would frequently visit their abode to tell tale's about youkai, the gods residing in inazuma and how Ei effortlessly massacred them all with her signature move, the Musou No Hitotachi.

But their grace didn't push her away or seemed even the slightest bit uncomfortable, yet instead they would encouraged her to share more of her bloodied stories, and that's what she loved about them. If purity was a person, then they must be standing before her right now.

Still, Ei wasn't exactly known as the 'sharing' type. She and Morax would frequently be on the verge of creating a catastrophe in their nation's whenever it came to who would get their grace's favoritism more.

But their target immediately took a huge turn when their eyes landed at Barbatos who was by their grace's side, yet he seemed to get a little way too close to their personal liking.

Their grace being a polite being didn't seem to mind Barbatos clinging onto them 24/7, you know who did mind the anemo archon's actions?

A pissed off geo dragon and a woman preparing to slice him in half using her blade.

Rumors had been reported that Barbatos body was buried but only left his head uncovered near Windrise as punishment for his actions towards their grace. A day after this took place their grace had personally came to save Barbatos and scolded the two archon's which left their expressions full of shame..

not because they were scolded but because they should've just thrown the anemo god into the abyss.

Ei softly smiled at the nostalgia hitting her hard, reminiscing the days were war had never took over and left countless of innocent lives taken. The uneasy feeling flowing through her body never leaving her mind, what could be the reason why she felt like something was wrong outside?

...

A certain someone had entered her territory, this feeling caught her off guard and slightly made her lose balance, it wasn't worry nor unease but a feeling she always felt when their presence was right next to hers.

"You'd arrived so soon? I would've waited more centuries for you."

Her feet touched the ground. It wasn't a doubt that they had finally came, she had secluded herself all this time to meditate and keep her soul away from erosion. But she couldn't help but wonder how would they look like now? It didn't matter either way.

Since she would love you no matter what form their grace took over.

...

【Follow my command】

Screams of terror engulfed the whole area with bystanders backing away from the body which oozed out a metallic crimson liquid, yet red wasnt the only liquid that seeped through their body.

A golden fluid mixed through with the crimson one, producing a beautiful yet horrid scene.

【You are one step away from successfully reincarnating.】

A/n: hehe... Orv.. Hehe

[gremlingottoosilly]

That Unwanted Animal [COD Fantasy AU] CursedKnight!Ghost x fem!Reader

Ghost was cursed ever since his king helped him get back to life from his grave. A stench of death, strong and inescapable, renders him unable to find a woman who will be willing to bed him. What will happen when he finally finds a perfect mate? CW and Tags: Dub-con, power imbalance, Medieval Fantasy AU, knight!Ghost, servant!Reader, sex work, brothels, dub-con kissing and touching, obsessive Ghost, dark Ghost, basically Ghost finds a girl and forces her to be his, Ghost is a half-dead resurrected knight, soft reader, submissive Reader.

AO3 Word Count: 2209

“I won’t go to him, he smells!”

“Drop the act, princess, not even half of our guests reek of anything more than their drinks and foul meat.” 

“You know how he smells, Katherine. You know what he is.” “What he is, is a client. Rich one. Do you wish to moan under the belly of another failing merchant? Or a peasant’s dick is more to your liking?” “I bring this place more than half of its earnings! I won’t bed a man who has barely got out of his grave and should be put back!” Ghost sighs, his head pressed against the wooden wall. For a brothel, this place has remarkably thin walls. For a brothel, girls out here have remarkably potent noses – and acquired tastes for anything that doesn’t taste like a man who was brought back to life with dead souls still clinging onto every inch of his very being.��

For a man of his regals – the blessed knight, the cursed knight, the kiss-your-enemies-goodnight, the spill-your-blood-he might, he has a particular choice in the brothel he tried to entertain himself with. Not like any willing woman would bed him without a sum of gold enough to feed a family for months – and not like he stood low enough to force himself on poor servants of his castle, bringing his dignity and family name down with each handmaiden he tried to grope while on meeting with the king. 

“Do you think he is really dead?” “Dead man wouldn’t need a cunt to drown himself in. He had to have something working.” “Maybe he likes to watch? Or to hurt.” “Maybe, we can’t afford to turn him down, princess. Drop your act before he is willing to burn us down for refusing him.” “Well, I heard he went through every brothel in town. Not a single soul bedded him!” “I heard he doesn’t even like girls. Has his royal knight by his side all day.” “He came alone.” “He will be coming alone for the rest of his life with a smell like this!” “Dark magic. King should have known to not trust the Empire and their lurkings.” “Having a blessed knight is good, no? We’re not at war.” “Cursed knight is good in your army, not your bed. But if you are so willing…”

He hears women – from the madam of this fine place, a woman of fine manners, exquisite figure, and the way of looking at him that almost convinces that she doesn’t want to press her fingers against her nose, blocking the smell of death that follows him ever since he became…that. He hears girls of not-so-fine manners, with fine bodies and perfect pretty faces, gentle hands that don’t know about the trials of war. He remembers the way they looked at him – the way they always looked at him. 

Scary, horrendous, dangerous. A skull mask and dark tendrils of smoke follow his body, the Grim Reaper himself embedded in his dark armor. No matter how many perfumes he uses, no matter how many washes per day he forces himself onto, nothing can hide the stench of death. He thought he’d be fine with it as long as his battle brothers were with him – as long as he was with them. 

Then he got lonely. 

Finding a lay in the brothel would be a scandal for a man of his status – but Simon Riley is no man. Not anymore, at least. 

“I bet he wears a mask because he is hideous.” “Maybe he is just wounded?” “What kind of wound would make him hide his face while not being hideous?” “Maybe, he just doesn’t want to show his face here.” “No use. By the dawn, all women in the capital will know about great lord Riley, refuced at every brothel.” “What if he kills us?” “What if he burns us?” “What if he…” “Let the servant bring him tea. Make her useful.” Before he could react – as if eavesdropping on a bunch of whores was something of a pleasant chore he was dealing with – a door to his room had opened. Girl, in much simpler clothes than the ones that courtesans were wearing. With a tea tray in her shaky hands, grabbing the poor thing like there was no tomorrow. Huh. Perhaps, with a mug like his as her client, there is no tomorrow for a poor girl. 

Ghost sits on the bed, large, muscular legs spread, his dick swaying with attention the longer he is looking at your face. He can’t be picky, not in his state as a not-dead not-man, but he has to admit that you’re pretty. Without all the mannerisms of a prostitute, you look like a poor deer stuck in the predator’s den. Your hands are shaking – but he looks at your face, having no shame in drinking up your expression like a vampire – and he didn’t once saw you wince at the smell. Hm. Must be potent tea you’re serving. 

— I didn’t ask for the tea. 

Rude, as always – he didn’t come here to be ridiculed by poor attempts at pleasing him without a girl under him, getting her pretty legs open for his cock. He didn’t intend to come here and listen to all of the workers laughing at him like he was a monster – yet, he can’t leave now, his wounded ego grows into something ugly. 

— Most of our clients prefer to drink this before the…act. It makes them more potent, as they say. 

His cock didn’t have any warm body to dump his semen in years. He doesn’t need tea to make him hard – he sees the glimpse of your skin under those simple robes of yours, and he can already feel it stir, standing up for attention. 

— You don’t sound too certain. Your client must not drink it then. 

— I…I am not a prostitute, sir. Merely a servant. 

He knows already – your makeup is too plain, your manners are off, your clothes are simple grey wool with not a dash of color. If you were his – as a prostitute, a wife, a lover – he would bring you something much brighter and skimpier. You’d look good in silks, he thinks. 

Not like you’d allow him to bring you home – not willingly, at least. 

— So I figured, love. You’re pretty enough to be one, that’s clear. 

“You’re pretty enough to be a prostitute” is a compliment that only sounds good in the head of a man who hasn’t talked sweetly to a woman in ages. His whole life, perhaps, exchanging the embrace of a lady with tight hugs of the war. 

— You’re flattering me, sir. 

— Bloody hell, woman. Not a flattery if that’s the truth. 

— If you say so. 

You shift under his gaze like a rabbit in front of an apex predator. Ghost doesn’t want to force any woman to sleep with him – but he looks at the sway of your chest, at the softness of your hips, at the way you tug and scratch on the rough fabric of your skirt as you’re too nervous to look at him…

He must contain himself. 

— Why you work as a servant? 

— I…tried to be a prostitute, sir. Most clients here don’t like it when you’re not…

He slowly rocks his body closer to you, his head almost laying on your shoulder. He saw the way you looked at him as he leaned to you – you’re surprised, scared, but not disgusted. your nose didn’t twitch a single time, and he is sure that no tea would ever make you this blind to the stench of death lingering on your shoulder now. 

There must be something wrong with you – and he wants to save you like a rare treasure because of it. 

— Most clients here don’t like what, luv? 

— I…have damage, sir. 

So he figured. Just didn’t exactly know what you have. 

— What is it? 

— A…after a bad cold, my sense of smell…never returned. Not for the last three years. 

— You don’t smell anythin’? Must be bloody hard. 

— It is. But…I manage. As much as I can. 

He slowly drapes his hand over your shoulder – you wince at the touch. He thinks of the madam of your fine establishment. The woman didn’t seem the type to beat her girls, but you had such a shy, scared expression as he started to touch you, he can’t wait to burn this fucking place to the ground. Maybe spare a few of your friends if you’d ask him nicely. You won’t be working here again, ever – that much he can be sure of. 

— Doin’ a good job, love. 

— I hope so, sir. 

He drags his hand on your face, squeezing the soft skin of your cheek. You’re adorable – servants shouldn’t be so pretty, it makes him feel bad, it makes him sinful. He should try to hit on the girls who actually work here – not the poor soul that as sent here to bring him here, as a little lam sacrificed to a vicious god. 

— You don’t smell me, then? 

— I don’t smell anything, my lord. 

He chuckles, but your pained expression only makes him chuckle more. Poor thing, living in a place like this without a sense of smell – he can’t believe how you could survive without the smell of heavy incense and creams that all of the whores were using. He loves it when a pretty girl is making herself even prettier – makeup, all of those little elixirs they are putting on their faces, the flowery smells that make his rotting existence a bit easier. It never worked on him, on his disintegrating skin and stench that followed him everywhere – but then it dawned on him. 

You have such an adorable, shy smile and a small posture, playing with the edges of your clothes like a girl who is extremely embarrassed to be in a room with a man of his position. But women aren’t shy in his presence, not anymore – they are disgusted, horrified, they want to put their noses into little candy boxes and smell roses just to get rid of the smell. 

But you, adorable creature, aren’t disgusted. Hell, how he missed a pretty girl being so shy around him. 

Ghost kisses you before he can think of anything else. Before he could give you space to escape, to come to your senses and understand what kind of man he is. Broken, wounded, pushed to the cage, and locked with a key dangling from the side – god knows, Simon Riley isn’t a good man, never tried to be. Devil knows, he will drag you to the grave with him. 

Your lips are soft, untouched, you smell of cleaning supplies and sweet tea. Your hair smells like roses and dust, your hands are covered in little scabs – probably from the days spent cleaning and doing the hard work. He will make sure you will never have to work again, not with your hands, at least – he will kiss your callouses and nourish the skin into something delicate, fragile, to the smell of home he lost long ago. 

Your mouth tastes like heaven, and Ghost isn’t a man who deserves to push this angel further, isn’t a man who deserves to have a pretty girl moaning under him. He makes you cry, he terrifies you, he kisses you relentlessly and can feel the way your skin burns, tears streaming down your face. If he was a better man, he would oblige to your hands, pushing him away, your mouth is trying to cry for help. 

Simon Riley isn’t a good man, and he pushes you on your back, firms hands on your back, on your hips, touching, groping, feeling the skin of a somewhat willing woman. You’re scared, but you should know the kind of job girls here are doing – he didn’t pay all of this money for charity projects, after all. As much as he would pay even more gold just to take you away, to push your legs apart in a scenery much nicer than a room in a brothel. You deserve a real bed, a nice dress that he can rip away from you, 

All you get is his hands on your body, ripping your simple skirt apart because he can’t wait to get to the soft skin underneath. He looks at you, precious girl, as adorable as you are, and can’t resist kissing you, stealing breath from your skin. When he finally hears you moan, when his hand goes to grab the softness between your legs – moist, prepared, smelling of roses and arousal, of all things sweet and sinful – all of his sense of self-control shatters. 

He will take you on the floor of this room – over and over, claim you as his little maiden, his favorite girl, until he is sure his cursed, rotten seed has filled you to the brim. He will take you away, bringing as much money to your madam as he can manage, buying you all for himself – taking you as his prized possession for the new castle he was ordered to as a lord knight. 

Ghost will make you his, hells and heaven be damned. 

You cry, but he knows you’ll come around. And he can be very, very patient. 

[azen13]

To Gaze at Polaris

Description: After you manage to escape Jing Yuan's home, the General chases after you to Aurum Alley, intent on bringing you back.

CW: Yandere Themes, Non-Sexual Nudity, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Bathing Together

Pairing: Yandere!Jing Yuan x GN!Reader

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

It is a cold night on the Luofu when Jing Yuan strides through Aurum Alley.

By this time, all the shops, restaurants, and homes have gone dark. There is the faraway din of starskiff traffic, and the quiet buzz of cicadas in the moonlit neighborhood. As he walks through alleys lingering with the scent of day–the smell of tea leaves in particular lingers in his nose–there are no signs of you.

You are good at this, Jing Yuan thinks sadly. He wishes you weren’t.

“Y/N,” Jing Yuan calls quietly, though his voice carries. He does not need to be loud or aggressive to have a presence. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” 

There is no response.

He sighs. There is no anger in his voice, no vitriol or rage. Jing Yuan–as you have learned by now–is not prone to fits. In fact you’ve never seen him mad, or without at least a fleeting trace of a smile on his face; it's as if he was blessed by Aha THEMSELF. Because whenever he sees you he cannot help but feel light glimmering in his heart like starlight, making it bloom like pink morning glories. They have tender stems, delicate petals and grow in soil that is rocky and dry, but they are growing nonetheless, guided by your light.

He enters a different alley knowing you are hiding in the dumpster. Trivial really, but impressive nonetheless. Your determination is one of the things that attracts him to you most. It is a double edged sword. It comes in various shades and hues. He sees it in your eyes when he challenges you to a friendly game of Star Chess. Or when you’re cooking a new dish.

Or when you are shouting insults at him like if you curse him enough, you can make him disappear. In a way, it has the opposite effect. Every time you sob and plead he coos and reaches out for you, pulls you in tighter with comforting embraces and sweet, cloying words. 

For a few moments, he simply stands there. A part of him wishes that you would just come out. His footsteps are perfectly audible, and you are entirely perceptive enough to know that he has stopped in front of the alleyway. You know that he is there, waiting for you to surrender to his comfort and charm.

But you don’t. 

It drapes his heart in darkness, those flowers wilting when you don’t. He steps forward slowly, eyes fixed on the dumpster, his expression forlorn. “Dearest…please come out. I won’t hurt you.” It’s a promise, and it is one he cannot break. He hates seeing you in pain. He loves your smile. It is radiant in an infinite number of ways: the upturned quirk of your lips; the soft crinkling of your eyes; the way your irises seem to glow. You are a star of glass in his hands, and he is afraid he has shattered you.

But, he thinks, as he continues his slow conquest forward, nearing the dumpster, would that be so horrible? 

His mind flashes to the art of repairing broken pottery–kintsugi–where broken pieces are glued together with a lacquer mixed with gold powder; it is not meant to not hide where the breaks have occurred, but allow them to shine. He could bring you back together, multiply your luminescence by a thousand suns, and he would want you even more. The flowers in his heart would grow and bloom until his veins have become xylem and his tissues petals, every cell in him wanting your light. Craving it. Needing it.

When his hands–gentle and calloused from centuries of spars and fights–lift you from the dirty dumpster, you scream and wriggle in his tight embrace. His heart is flooded by rainstorms, flooding the flowers.

It has been raining for countless months. It feels like dying.

“Shh…it is alright my love,” he murmurs, his arms squeezing tighter around your torso; it’s not enough force to hurt you or bruise you, but enough to keep your squirming contained. “Let’s return home. I think this has been…enough excitement for one night.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

He runs you a bath. You smell like trash now, and that won’t do. He wants the best for you. The best food, the best clothes, the best life. Because when he sees your happiness, even if it is as ephemeral as a shooting star, it rejuvenates his soul. 

The gentle smell of jasmine fills the bathroom as he quietly works shampoo into your hair. By now, you have lost the battle. Is it a sacrifice, though? Or have you truly blundered a piece away on this grand chessboard? Jing Yuan has played you enough times to know your strategies and tactics, the most inner machinations of your mind. You lose to him every time, but always put up a good fight. He hopes that pattern holds true for this game you and him seem to be playing every waking moment.

Water cupped in his hands is brought to your head, washing the suds out of your luxurious hair. Gentle kisses are peppered on your bare shoulders and neck, before his hands reach to massage your shoulder blades. This is what Jing Yuan longs for: days spent in pure domestic bliss. The kind of sunlit silence that leaves him warm and sleepy, craving an afternoon nap next to his lover.

He hums a song. You lean a little more against him, exhausted from your little escapade. He smiles, careful not to chuckle, lest he scares you away like one of his sparrows. Later, perhaps in the morning Jing Yuan will have a conversation with you about this. But for now he is content to enjoy this honeyed moment, bathing in your incandescence, enjoying these brief moments of sunlight before the deluge begins again.

When your fingers start to wrinkle like prunes from the water and your eyes are beginning to droop, he knows it is bedtime. He wraps you up in a fluffy towel, letting you get ready for bed as he does the same; his eyes watchful but fond as he brushes his teeth and lets his hair out of its usual ponytail. Searching for the first signs of wind picking up or darkening skies.

The two of you cuddle in bed, though it’s more like Jing Yuan cuddles you, and you tolerate his embrace. His arms wrap around you, loose enough not to hurt but tight enough to anchor him around you. Drift too far away again, and Jing Yuan doesn’t know if he can recover. He needs you. 

He is tired, too. But he is tired in a different way. His fatigue is like that of a mountain carved in twain by the river of time. One day, both sides of that once-mighty peak will collapse. But you give him strength. You are his guiding light. His North Star. His sun. His Polaris.

His breathing begins to even out and he pulls you closer against him, sweet dreams of you and him begin to dance behind his eyelids. Hopefully, he thinks as he lets himself slip into slumber, one day you will forgive him for ripping you from the sky and placing you in his chest, in the space right next to his heart.

[ari-freeworld]

'*•♡Finding Space In Your Heart ♡•*'

°。°。°。°。°。° 。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

01 - Unexpected offers

Pairing - Biker/Roommate!Bakugou x Fem!Reader

An - After debating whether or not to post this, I decided to just go for it! I’m excited to share my very first published fic with you all. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, let me know what you think! XO

Summary - After Kirishima moves in with his girlfriend, Mina, Bakugou finds himself in need of a new roommate. He’s on the hunt for someone who can tolerate his loud (and expensive) Ducati, his odd hours at the mechanic shop, and who is fairly tidy and able to pay their share of the rent. After having no luck finding the right person, his long-time friends Mina and Kirishima suggest an old friend of Mina's—enter you, a young professional writer looking for a place to live during your partnership with a publishing company.

Notes/warnings - Qurikless AU, aged up characters, drinking and smoking mentioned. Inappropriate language (its bkg duh) Slow build up (eventual smut).

wrds - 1.9k

02 , 03

°。°。°。°。°。° 。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

"Hello, earth to y/n!" A hand waved over your face, pulling you from your trance.

"Sorry, Mina," you said, stirring your milkshake with your straw.

You were sitting in Mina's local diner, catching up and drinking milkshakes—a monthly ritual you both had kept since your teen years. However, this particular meeting had been long overdue since Mina and her boyfriend, Kirishima, had been busy these last few months with their big move.

"What's bugging you?" Mina asked. Your friendship with her was a strong one, now going on eight years since you met in a softball little league at the age of fifteen. Ever since then, she had been your rock and you hers.

You didn't want to dampen the mood with your issues, especially when you were supposed to be celebrating her move. However, your current situation had you stressed for a couple of weeks now.

You had received astonishing news a few weeks ago: an offer from a publishing company you'd been dreaming of working with for a while. They would love to work with you on your book. It was the perfect opportunity, but life had thrown you a curveball. The company expected you to relocate within the next month, or they would reselect someone who could. All the places you’d looked at were way over your budget, and you didn't want to depend on your parents right after moving out from their place.

You sighed, "I've been having trouble with the new job."

"What!? Did they decide they didn't want you anymore? Those pricks!" Mina slammed her milkshake on the table, shooting a couple of drops of whipped cream onto her lap.

"No, no, it isn't that," you sighed again. "It's just that they want me to move closer to the site, and I'm getting nervous because I can't find a place yet."

"Well, why don't you stay with me and Kiri? We wouldn't mind giving you the spare room for as long as you need." You could tell she was serious. Bless her heart.

"I literally could not do that. After all, you and Kiri have been waiting for the chance to move in together, and I don't want to ruin that for you."

"Why not? It would be fun! Plus, you wouldn’t be a bother."

"I appreciate the offer, Mina, but I don't want to intrude." Maybe you'll just have to make the three-hour drive there and back every day, you thought to yourself.

"Gosh, y/n, you're so stubborn. The offer will stand indefinitely." She's such a good friend; you couldn't possibly burden her and Kiri. More like you won't.

--------------------------------------------------------------

"Fuck," Bakugou exhaled, wiping the grease and dirt off his hands with his white tank top.

"Hey, Bakugou! Are you closing up soon? It's late," Kiri entered from the semi-closed garage door after helping out their last customer for the day.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just fucking replacing my bike's stupid-ass engine oil." Kiri could tell something was bothering Bakugou. He'd been trying to get it out of him all day. He hated seeing his friend this way: walking around with tense shoulders, snapping at people. He even drove away a customer this morning with his attitude.

"Dude, what's up with you today?" Kiri asked. "You've been... pissy."

Bakugou glared at Kiri, then sat on the stool by his raised bike. "I can't find a fucking roommate," he quietly admitted.

"Shit, man. I'm sorry about dumping the move on you." Kiri moved to lean on the large tool cabinet. "I could always help you pay for this month to help out."

"Don't be a dumbass." Bakugou ran his hand through his blonde locks, moving the parts stuck to his sweaty forehead from his face. "You're basically moved out; you would just be paying my rent for me."

Kirishima pondered for a moment, trying to think of some way to help his friend. Then suddenly, he remembered what Mina mentioned the other day.

"Wait! This is perfect. I just remembered!" Kiri stood up straight. "Mina's friend, y/n!"

"Who?" Bakugou asked, uninterested.

"You know y/n. I've spoken about her before. She's actually looking for a place but couldn't find any within her budget!"

"A girl?! I can't move in with some random chick!" Bakugou was surprised Kirishima would even suggest that.

"You have to meet her! She would be the perfect roommate for you. She's reserved and, from what Mina's said, a really good person!"

"Yeah, no fucking thanks." Bakugou got up to pack things up and close the shop.

Kirishima, on the other hand, did not care about what Bakugou said and proceeded to text his girlfriend, trying to come up with a plan to get them to meet.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, Kiri and Mina's plan was in full swing. You were getting ready to meet Mina and some of Kiri's friends at a downtown bar. Unbeknownst to you, this was no ordinary hangout—there was a secret agenda at play.

Now here you were, about to enter some random bar, planning to have a stress-free night filled with fun before returning to reality tomorrow.

As you opened the bar door, the smell of cigarettes, greasy food, and alcohol hit your nose. You weren't too big on partying or getting drunk; Mina, on the other hand, was a pure party animal through and through. You often found yourself tagging along on outings like these, so it wasn't going to be a peculiar evening—or so you thought.

"Y/n! Over here!" You saw Mina practically jumping out of her seat, waving to get your attention. Making your way over, you glanced at everyone else seated in the booth. Familiar faces you'd seen at past hangouts.

"Hey, guys!" You stood in front of the table, and seated from left to right were Sero, Denki, Kirishima, and, of course, Mina. It seemed like there was someone missing who had been seated between Denki and Kirishima. Mina's face was dusty with a pink hue; you guessed she had probably had a few drinks before your arrival.

"You're just in time. We just sent Bakugou to get the shots!" she mentioned, looking past you towards the bar.

Bakugou. You felt like you remembered Kirishima mentioning him before.

"Here are your fucking drinks, assholes," you heard a deep, slightly raspy voice speak from behind you.

You turned and immediately faced someone's chest, holding a small tray of filled shot glasses and lime slices. Glancing up, you saw a man standing at a good six feet and three or four inches. His attention was focused on his friends, but he glanced down at you, and your eyes met.

Getting a better look at him, you noticed his very stocky build and his beautiful features. His eyes were a shade of red—not like blood, but the color you see during a sunset. His hair was blond and spiky but looked soft to the touch. You snuck a quick glance at his lips, which were soft and plump.

Bakugou's eyes had been latched onto yours since he faced you. Such a pretty, delicate face, he thought. His eyes ran up and down your body but quickly returned to Kirishima once he realized who you were.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Shitty Hair?" Bakugou's voice was loud but not louder than the music filling the bar. You glanced back at Mina, confused, and she gave you a cheeky smile.

Some hours later, after drinking with your friends, you found yourself sitting right next to Bakugou, practically on his lap due to the overstuffed booth. Mina took the time to explain that he was searching for a roommate and, since you were having trouble, you could move in with him instead of on your own. Hence, the orchestrated meeting.

You noticed his cedarwood smell, almost overwhelming your senses. You picked up on smaller notes of leather and coconut. The silence between you was a little awkward now that you both understood the situation. Your friends were having their own drunken conversations, but Mina was secretly peeping glances at you, hoping you and Bakugou would help each other out.

"I'm sorry Mina put you up to this. I didn't know," you decided to break the silence, speaking without facing him. If you turned, your faces would be inches apart. He side-eyed you, sitting with his body slightly leaned on the cushion of the shared booth. He scoffed.

"S'not your fuckin' fault. They put you up to this," his words sounded harsh, but his delivery was rather soft. From what Mina said about him before, he sounded like an overly aggressive guy.

"So, you're looking for a roommate?"

"Yeah, Shitty Hair decided to move out and in with Pinky," you chuckled at his nicknames for them.

"Yeah, no wonder that area is hard to afford on your own," you sighed, crossing your arms on the table.

"You looking for a place?"

"Kinda? I don't know. I got this job offer, but I don't think I can accept it if I don't find a place I can afford soon." You sounded worried, hoping it wasn't detectable in your voice.

"Hm," he gave a sound of acknowledgment. He watched you stand, his eyes running down your body again, this time much slower, drinking in your curves. He had been watching you all night, more like observing. Yes, he found you pretty, but meeting you was interesting to him. He didn’t know if it was because he hadn't felt a woman’s warmth for a year now and was craving it, or if he just liked the way you laughed with your friends and the way the dim lights made your skin glow.

"I'll be back," you said, the drinking giving you a buzz, and you couldn't stop yourself from overthinking again. Getting up from your seat, you squeezed past Bakugou, Denki, and Sero, heading to the door. You needed air.

Letting the nightly breeze hit your face, you pulled out your phone, thinking about calling your mom to vent your troubles. She and your dad had been away visiting family, letting you have the place to yourself. You couldn't bring yourself to tell them about the job before they left because you knew they would offer to pay for your place instantly, which was the last thing you wanted. So you settled for the cigarette in your purse that Sero had handed you earlier.

Lighting it, you inhaled and exhaled, hating the taste but finding it brought some comfort, like your worries were drifting away with the smoke.

"Disgusting habit," someone spit out. You turned to face them, instantly putting it out.

"Oh, I know. I don't smoke often, but this night called for one," you faced Bakugou, now out of the cramped bar. His figure stood a little taller and more comfortable. He walked up beside you, his scent hitting a little harder as the breeze carried it right to your nose. His clothes were black and casual, but you couldn't help but notice the tightness of his t-shirt.

Man, am I buzzed, you thought to yourself.

The silence now that you were alone was comforting. "If it's beating you up that fucking badly, I wouldn't mind," he said. You snapped your head towards him quickly.

"It would help both of us out," he continued. "You'd be saving me the trouble of finding some asshole roommate."

"Really...?" you searched his eyes for an answer. "You wouldn't mind?"

"How 'bout this: come look at the place with me now," he leaned close, his body looming above you. "And you let me know, princess."

Bakugou thought to himself, maybe he wouldn’t mind having a girl for a roommate. Regardless, he knew he certainly wouldn’t mind having you as one.

°。°。°。°。°。° 。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Hope you enjoyed! Planning on releasing more parts soon <3

Btw lmk if you want to be added to the tag list :)

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

The Empress

Next chapter

The afternoon was like any other in Rome, the languid breeze brushing through the city, providing no respite for its inhabitants. In the palace, high on the white marble steps sat two brothers in their thrones, the Emperors of Rome. Caracalla and Geta were not particularly favoured amongst the public, their wrath and cruelty was well known, even amongst the senators who most people assumed would be untouchable. No, they exercised their right to show their power without consequence and they did it well.

There was no love lost between the brothers, both had resented each other’s existence, cursing the other for the simple fact that the throne was now shared between them. Geta in particular hated this, he was the older of the two and felt that he deserved the throne for himself. Besides, Caracalla was immature with his rage, Geta thought. His rage was born out of a childish need to get his own way or to try and prove that he had any semblance of authority, not Geta’s rage though, Geta revelled in his own wrath, he knew his anger caused fear in the senate and he enjoyed knowing that he had that sort of emotional power to him, a power that he would often take advantage of, throwing the odd plate or vase in council meetings to scare the generals and senators in attendance.

Months had passed with Geta sharing his role as Emperor with his brother, it was a situation that was now becoming tiring to him to say the least. He could only think of two ways that would hopefully move the public towards favouring his authority as the sole Emperor. The first option would be to have Caracalla killed, this would definitely cement his claim to the thrown, but fratricide was heavily frowned upon by the Gods, that option was potentially ruled out for now. The other scenario would be to acquire a wife, this situation did not fill him with much joy either, Geta enjoyed his whores as he could ruin them however he pleased, he would have to be gentle with a wife and softness was a weakness to him. Nonetheless, it was the best option he had.

Soon after Geta had decided it was time for him to take a wife the word spread throughout Rome, Geta’s mother was thrilled at the prospect that maybe her son was finally going to calm down and settle with a family, his eyes only rolled at this comment for how naive she was being. The high born houses of Rome heard this summons that the Emperor was seeking a wife of good stock and good breeding and invited them to present a daughter for him to take as wife, many houses declined the invite for fear of what he would do to their beautiful and pure daughters, the refusal of his request would boil Geta’s blood further until the day you accepted his invitation.

It was a warm and boring summers eve when your family heard the news that Geta was looking for a wife, you were draped across a lavish bench in your garden soaking up the sun on your porcelain skin, no matter how much time you spent in the sun you never seemed to be blessed with its gifts of colour. Your father approached and told you of the Emperors summons, you almost leapt out of your relaxed position, begging your father to let you attend the palace and have an audience with Emperor Geta, not one to deny his daughter a request, also hoping to gain the Emperors favour, your father accepted and responded to the invite saying you would attend the palace on the morrow.

Geta had always been a fascination to you, you had attended the gladiator games several times in the last few years, and you would watch him in his podium, that enchanting sneer across his face. His bloodlust and cruelty plagued your mind daily after you first caught sight of him, you are not sure why but his threatening aura and the way he had no regard for human life would stir something inside of you, his unhinged nature called to something inside of you and you desperately wanted to answer it.

Much to your surprise, you were the only one to attend the palace and stand before Geta as a potential bride, you felt his eyes burn into your visage, he was barely trying to hold his anger that your were the only one present as an offering, his anger aroused you, causing a wetness to pool between your thighs as you felt his scorn upon you, trying to ignore the feeling you stood up straight and focused on the here and now, you wanted to be chosen by him. It wasn’t that Geta was offended by your offering, he thought you were incredibly beautiful, and your ivory skin was captivating, the red gown you were dressed in, made him think of blood upon fresh snow which excited him more than he would care to admit. Geta gave a soft nod to one of his guards and they whisked you away to a private room adjoining his in the palace, you tried to turn back to see your father one last time only to see him smiling and bowing before Geta. This was it; you had been chosen as his wife. You now happily let the guards lead you away wherever they were told to take you.

The wedding took place not long after Geta accepted your offering, he had you dressed in crimson red again on the day, the contrast between your pale white skin and blood red cloth was just enrapturing to him, it made him think of how he wanted to sully that beautiful skin of yours, leaving his markings all over your body to make you know that you now belonged to him. Your wedding night came, and you felt yourself slightly disappointed, where was the angry Geta you had fantasised about? You wanted him to fuck you and choke you within an inch of your life, yet here he was snoring away drunk on too much wine, he attempted to grope at you, but he groped at the bedframe instead before falling asleep. No matter, you would get him to ruin you at some point.

Days and weeks passed by as you settled into the role of Empress, you did not have many responsibilities other than to provide Geta with an heir, something you had attempted very enthusiastically over the last few weeks. Most nights Geta would come into your chambers and ‘do his duty’ as was expected of him, these nights were alright, yet you preferred the nights he had been on the war council. He would return to your shared room throwing and shattering vases and glasses against the walls, it was in these nights he would take you roughly, biting and choking you, leaving his markings on your skin for all to see. Seeing Geta so unhinged and his anger at the surface aroused you immensely, those strong hands causing such devastation in your room made you bite your lip and wonder what they could do to you. This fact Geta had noticed after the third time he took you roughly and noticed you had orgasmed intensely, your walls gripping and pulsing around his cock unlike when he normally took you. Surely you didn’t like his wrath right? You were not as bloodthirsty and angry as him?

Geta wanted to test his theory of your arousal after you seemed far too excited when he choked you as he pounded deep into you one night, moaning his name as your arched your body towards him. This Is not what he was used to, and it confused him, why were you not like the others and whimpering before him? This version of you excited him and spurred him on to be rougher each time, and each time he made you cum even harder for him. Geta decided he wanted to take it further and see if your bloodlust really matched his own, to see how much you truly enjoyed his wrath. He would take you to the gladiator games tomorrow.

You were thrilled to be at the games again, the smell of sweat and blood in the air was like a sweet nectar to you, smiling as you took your rightful seat next to your husband. You could feel Caracalla’s hateful gaze upon you, but you did not wish to engage with him, it was not worth indulging the brat. Geta and yourself sit at the edge of the royal balcony, you looked the vison of the Gods Jupiter and Juno, regal and commanding. The crowd chanting your names as they had fully accepted Geta now he had a wife beside him.

The games began. The first one was of no consequence, you rolled your eyes at how little of a contest it was. The day waned on until it came to the main event, you had drunk your fill of wine to combat the hot air, and you now felt a soft buzz, excited for the match ahead. Geta could see the excitement in your eyes at the upcoming match and he smiled, you definitely loved this as much as he did, and he revelled in that knowledge for now. The match was an intense one, one that kept you at the edge of your seat, gripping the fabric of your dress in anxiety, you wanted it to be bloody and they were dancing around rather than showing any action!

Eventually the match ends with no bloody conclusion, you slump back into your chair disappointed, you watch uninterested as the winning gladiator gloats about besting the other one who is laid on the floor exhausted, your eyes roll until you feel a familiar breath on your neck. “Would you like me to kill him my love?” your heart pounds at his whisper and your clench your legs together feeling the hot breath on your neck, you compose yourself ever so slightly.

“My Emperor?” you questioned, a nickname that unbeknownst to you had such an effect on him, you always made him feel like he was in charge, and he loved It.

“Would you like me to spare the loser or let him live?” His lips whisper against your ear as he begins to play with a rouge strand of your hair, twirling it around his fingers and he starts to kiss your neck, eagerly awaiting your answer.

A small moan escapes your lips as his touch” …Kill him…” you sigh and nearly whimper as he lets you go, standing up ready to put his thumb down, signifying death. The signal happens and the loser is killed, Geta turns to look at you with a wicked smile on his face, your thighs now crushing against each other to bring you some relief from the tension building there.

Gods, looking at that beautiful sneer and the way he enjoyed commanding the death of the gladiator, you knew that you were in for a fantastic night with him tonight.

[ivesambrose]

JUNE 2024 MINI MESSAGES 🌿💚

1. 2. 3.

Kept it short and sweet

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at ivesambrose@gmail.com

Masterpost

Services Offered

Thank You for the tip! ✨

Picture 1

A substantial focus is on yourself, your physical body and your health. You'll be wanting to take life slowly. It is likely you've been feeling energetically depleted and feeling sleepy more than usual or being around or engaging with certain people or activities isn't making you feel as good. On a positive note, this will allow you to bring your attention and energy back to yourself which in turn will make you realize certain aspects of your health you may have overlooked. Y ou might be switching up or prioritising a skincare and wellness routine, opt for slower workouts or dancing, anything that makes you feel beautiful and good from within instead of amping up your stress or cortisol levels. Some of you might be quitting smoking or drinking this month too. You might also be focusing on holistic healthcare or healing yourself via the food you eat. You will be moving more, just you won't be in a hurry. Infact, there's no need to rush anything. let the money and love come to you as you stay open to receive. Your worldview might also change or you might end up influencing others via your perspectives. You might engage in creating something artsy, whatever that may be. The more you do things for yourself instead of catering to what's trending or what others keep demanding of you, the more you'll bloom.

Stay loyal to your goals, remain stubborn about them, no matter what. Also, try getting a haircut or new color sometime this month.

Picture 2

Just let it happen. You've been wanting that drastic change but you couldn't do that for yourself or you've tried to do it for yourself but you didn't know how so you just gave up. The emotions piled up regardless. So simply let this happen, it will, inevitably. It might be the most unexpected thing ever, it may not even be as smooth at first, you might as well be that gif of Rebel Wilson screaming, 'Enough!" Any form of upheaval you face this month even if it's a mental or emotional one, know that it's necessary to bring back order into your life. Chaos and order do go hand in hand, right?

By the end of this month you'l be feeling more powerful if anything. You're no one's charity case and you're certainly not meant to remain frozen in this particular mindset you've been carrying. It's keeping you stuck in ways that's doing you more harm than good. You'l also be able to weed out people who are a part of your life as pretense and only want to take from you. You'll also be able to see the ones who look over you rather silently. There's a gift of discernment and intuition you're being blessed with here. write down every idea or thought or dream as strange it might seem this month It doesn't matter how you're going to make it come true or how it connects to anything else, it will make sense later, perhaps by Virgo or Libra season?

Again, time isn't important. But your dominant thoughts, certainly are. Befriend your mind and don't look back.

Picture 3

You're loved and desired extensively and you don't even realize that. For most of you I'm seeing you romanticize your life in whatever way you see it, maybe even switching up things in your room or beautifying your surroundings nd yourself. You'll feel closer to your loved ones this month or just have a lot of gratitude towards them. Yes, even if you prefer being alone. The focus is on relationships and partnerships and being extremely choosy with the ones you associate yourself with. There are quite a few people who want to know you and get closer to you even pursue you romantically. A good month for your personal business and finances or even manifesting a creative or desired opportunity through the right people and the right time. Don't shy away from your own potential. Some of you might also be engaging in proper manifestion rituals or even praying for something big. A lot of you have truly, sincerely decided to lock in and that determination in itself ill get you what you seek. By the end of this month I see movement. Physical travel as well.

For some of you, there's this manifestion you consider 'big' again, it's something personal to you, it might be something small to someone else, but what matters is how important it is to you, it'll come through in Leo season mostly or for some during Sagittarius season. Either way, just know what you want, is already yours.

[megs-1800]

Co-Parenting

Note: Hope you are enjoying, requests are open if you want me to write anything in particular.

Summary: You and Mason are getting a divorce but are doing well with co-parenting your son Elijah. However, due to the divorce you are changing your name, how will Mason take it when you suggest to double barrel your sons name? Will he accept it?

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings: Swearing, Angst and Fluff

You are the best father to Elijah, you always wanted children that was one of the first conversations we had when we first stated dating. So the day I saw those 2 blue lines on the pregnancy test I have never seen you so excited. We weren’t even trying and it came as a bit of a shock but still the baby was a blessing, and I knew you were going to be an incredible father. Even before I gave birth you were constantly looking out for the baby making sure I didn’t over exercise and I was eating right, the whole nursery was equipped by our 24 week scan, and that day when you found out we were having a boy you were over the moon. All you could think about was playing football with our future son in the garden. When Elijah was born you still claim this was one of the best days of your life, and I swear I saw a tear slipping down your face when you held him for the first time.

We were in an absolute baby bliss, well that was until Elijah was 3 months old. We were having a much needed family day chilling at home. This is when mine and Mason’s phones both went absolute mad. We panicked thinking something bad had happened and it was one of the family group chats. What I saw was even worse. It was links to the news article, claiming this women was having an affair with him for the past 6 months. You didn’t even try and deny it so I knew it was true. How could you he have done this to us? To our new family?  What was worse it started at the end of the pregnancy when I was emotional on how I looked due to the weight gain caused by the massive pregnancy bump but Mason always argued that I was the most beautiful women in the world. Now I know why he was so happy as he was getting it from the super model instead.

We tried to make it work for Elijah’s sake but the trust was gone and we were arguing all the time. It was too toxic for Elijah to be around so we agreed to split. Everyone was heart broken over it but we had to do what was best for our boy. We always were good at co-parenting though, no matter what happened between us we always acted like a happy family for his sake. The big word in that is we would “act” like a happy family.

Today was no different it was Elijah’s trial day at the new nursery. It was a time when parents and children could come to the nursery have a walk around and see if parent and child both like it. It was a private nursery, it was where all the footballers and anyone with a bit of status sends their child. Mason said it was recommended from a couple of guys from the team. I wanted to just send Elijah to a normal nursery, but Mason agreed to pay for it so who am I deprive my son of the best if his dad wants to offer it to him?

I agreed to meet Mason at the nursery with Elijah so we didn’t have to do that awkward car ride in silence. So me and Elijah drove there with the music blaring both of us singing away. When we arrived Mason was already standing at the entrance. Elijah ran to him “dadddddyyyyy” he shouted as he ran to Mason. “Hello Bud” Mason said as he picked him up and gave him the biggest cuddle. He gave me a small side cuddle and a polite kiss on the cheek. I tried to give him a small smile. Be civil for Elijah’s sake I keep saying in my head.

We walked in and went up to reception. “Hello we are here for Elijah Mount’s trail day” I say to the lady at the reception desk. She checked her records and smiles “Of course please this way” as she points to the doors in front of us. We walk through to the main hall and she bends down to Elijah’s hight. “Hello I am Mrs Right” and gives Elijah the biggest smile which he returns. She puts her hand out for a high five which he gives her and runs off to be with the other children to play. He was always such a confident child, I am so proud of his personality. “Please Mr Mount and Miss Y/L/N this way and you can speak to who would be Elijah’s teacher if you decide this school is suited for him”. Mason shoots me a look. Jheez if looks could kill that would be it. He turns to me and whispers “Y/L/N really? You are still a Mount the divorce hasn’t been finalised yet?!” He says with hurt and anger in his eyes. “Please Mason not know” I whisper back “It was pointless saying we were Mr and Mrs Mount on the application because by the time Elijah starts here I won’t be Mrs Mount anymore so it was just easier to give them Y/L/N”. Mason rolls his eye at this, why does he have to make such a big deal out of it? He was the one who decided to ruin our marriage he cannot be angry that I dropped his name it was his fault.

The next hour went well, Mason kept shooting me glares to remind me that he is pissed off but the school seemed amazing and Elijah seemed to love it. We were standing there watching Elijah play in the sandpit. I am now regretting him wearing his new Armani tracksuit that his Uncle Declan got him for his last birthday. I look at Mason and can see the happiness in his eyes watching his son. I had to ask him now, I know my solicitor said not to say anything until the divorce was finalised but I didn’t want to blind side him. Plus if I didn’t speak to him now I would chicken out for sure. “Mase can I speak to you about something?” Mason nods turning his head to you giving you his attention. “I want to change Elijah’s name” Mason looked at me confused and I could see that he wasn’t getting where I was coming from. I then continued “As I will no longer be a Mount I want to double barrel Elijah’s last name so he has both our names. It will be easier if I take him away of anything. Otherwise people are going to think I kidnapped Mason Mounts baby” I tried to make a joke so the conversation was more light hearted. Mason didn’t see it this way. He shot me daggers and replied “Absolutely fucking not” and stormed out of the hall. Fuck sake why does he needs to make such a scene.

Elijah seeing his dad storm out came running over to me “I am ready to go now mummy”. I agreed and gave him a reassurance smile. We said our goodbyes and thanked the staff for the kindness of showing us around and explained I would be in touch regarding his place. The school is amazing and Elijah seemed to love it, he is definitely attending. When we were outside I could see Mason looking down at the ground, I can see the anger in his eyes. His emotion quickly changes when Elijah hugs him and says his goodbye. He then gets in his Range Rover and speeds off, I hate when he drives like that. He better not drive like that when Elijah is in the car, at the same time I know he would never put his son in danger so I quickly delete that thought.

Mason and I usually talk quite frequently in the week about Elijah showing each other pictures or updating each other on what he has done that day. This week Mason has been radio silent. He hasn’t seen Elijah the last couple of days, and every time I send him a picture of Elijah he just hearted the messages and didn’t reply which was unusual. I know he was pissed about my name request. It is just a name what is his issue? Saturday morning came and Mason sent me a text message “Hey I didn’t know what you were doing today but thought you and Eli might want to come down to watch the game?” I thought about it and then I looked at Elijah he was so flued up bless him it wouldn’t be right to drag him out in the cold so I quickly replied. “Hey Mase, I am so sorry Elijah didn’t sleep well last night he only had a couple of hours he couldn’t stop coughing and sneezing bless him, he ended up sleeping in my bed. It wouldn’t be good for him to sit in the cold I am so sorry. But he wishes his daddy the best of luck even though he knows you don’t need it ;)xx”  I know Mase would of smiled at that text and he responded “No worries at all, hope he is okay. Give him a kiss for me :)xx”.

Luckily for us the game was on TV, I put the game on the TV ready for kick off and put Elijah in his Manchester United Shirt with ‘DADDY 7” on the back. It was about 30 mins before the start, I sat Elijah down on the floor in front of the TV and took a photo. It clearly showed his shirt. We usually post him on our socials but do not post his face, so a lot of pictures are of him wearing a football shirt. I quickly added this to our my storey and added the caption ‘Cheering on his daddy! Come on United!’ I tagged Mason in this so hoping he will see this before he goes out. Which I was right, Mason saw his phone buzz just as he was about to go out. He quickly checked and saw you tagged him in a storey when he saw what it is, his heart melted.

Mason had the best game he has had in a while, he got 2 assists and a goal which resulted in United winning 4-2. I was so proud. I quickly send him a text that read “Well done Mase you make us both so proud x”. I then started my evening routine getting Elijahs dinner ready.

I was continuing with our evening routine with washing up Elijah's dinner and cleaning up his toys whilst his bath was running and there was suddenly a knock at the door. I was confused as I was not expecting anyone. As I opened it I saw Mason there. “Hey” he said. “I just miss Eli is it okay if I get him ready for bed tonight?” This wasn’t an uncommon act, Elijah never stays over at Masons as we decided it would be best for him to settle in 1 bed, however Mason does often come round and get him ready for bed. Of course I agreed at let him in. Mason bathed Elijah and tucked him in. Talking about the game and reading Elijah stories, it wasn’t long until Elijah was out for the night.

Mason comes walking back into the living room where you are chilling out, “Thank you for doing that, its nice it gives me a break for 5 mins”. Mason nods and smiles at that. He loves being apart of Elijah’s life. Mason keeps looking at me. “Okay” he says. I am confused “Okay to what?” I ask I have no idea what he is talking about. “Okay you can change his name.. I give you my consent” I smile thank god he is not going to fight me on this. “On one condition” There it is.. please don’t be a something silly that is going to make the situation worse I am begging in my head. “I want Mount to be first” he continues “Elijah Mason Mount-Y/L/N” he says. I smile “that’s amazing of course thank you”. I run to him and hug him. I didn’t even realise how long we were hugging for, I could feel his hands deep in my hair holding me tight. I am nestled into his neck, I smell his aftershave. Elijah running in broke us from that moment. “Why are you crying mummy?” He asked in concern. I didn’t even realise I was. I quickly wiped away my tears. “Mummy is just happy that’s all bubba now go back to sleep”. He quickly runs back his room. “Bye Bud I will see you tomorrow” Mason shouts “We will go kick the ball around in the garden”. Elijah stops in his bedroom door frame and nods to Mason and runs back into bed. “I will see you tomorrow Mase” I say to Mason giving him a nice smile. “I will see you tomorrow Y/N/N” pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. As he lets himself out I let a breathe out and I think my heart has now stopped beating so fast. Fuck he makes my heart melt. Why did he have to ruin it, we could have been the perfect family?!”

[mrsparrasblog]

Mission save the human race Pt1.

Pt2

2090 Days since it happened since your life changed completely. You can still remember the day of the outburst like it was yesterday. You were stuck performing an appendectomy on a five-year-old, and then there were shots – the military evacuating us. You didn't take it seriously at that time; thought it would be like every pandemic, and there would be a cure soon. But after weeks spent with your family in a military camp, you knew it was nothing like this. You remembered how the military shot women who even got near to a zombie – too much of a risk that they could get infected. The irony of the whole thing was that women were the carriers of this unknown virus, while men only turned when they got bitten. Women turned by a simple scratch of a zombie, or when they died of any cause, they would turn in a glimpse of a second into these brainless creatures.

After it went completely downhill and more healthy people got shot without any remorse, your dad, brother, and you tried to flee out of the military base, resulting in your dad and brother getting shot, screaming you should just take their gun and leave as fast as possible. You never felt more remorse than leaving their corpses behind, but you had more than enough years to mourn them and pray for forgiveness. On the way to a safe place, you noticed small details, weird details. You got scratched, even bitten on the way, expecting to fully turn into a brainless monster – but you didn't, and to this date, you didn't know why. Well, there wouldn't be a lab anymore to find out anyway, so you just accepted it as a blessing first. But after a while, you learned the true curse of living in this shithole.

The survivors were scarier than the zombies and almost as inhuman as them – while most didn't try to hurt you since a surgeon always could get handsy in a zombie apocalypse, you still saw the horrors of self-proclaimed "Leaders" who killed in the most inhumane way just to prove their dominance. They weren't better than animals. You saw how different groups tried to start wars with each other to win resources and territory. There was still enough place and enough resources in the world for both of them to survive, so it was just a power play. If you had had a say in this, you would have tried everything to start a civilization with many people trying to rebuild humanity with strong people as guards, people farming, and people working in the infirmary, but no one ever listened to you. Why should they, as the Apocalypse proceeded, the hatred of women got only worse – "The reason for the apocalypse," resulting in women getting used, tortured, and raped if they weren't useful in other ways, and you thanked every day your mother who practically forced you to study medicine instead of law.

After months, you finally had enough and ran away from the camp – not tolerating the inhumane ways. You wondered if you were the inhuman one for leaving people there who you could have healed if you had stayed, but sometimes you needed to be egoistical, and you at least tried to stay as innocent as possible through the apocalypse. You lost everything but not your good heart which made you incredibly proud of yourself.

You didn't know how you survived this. You didn't have a particular skill set; sure, you were a pediatric surgeon before all of this, you were capable, you were smart, which probably led you to survive. But you weren't something that was of use like a soldier or police officer. God, before this Apocalypse, you didn't even carry your groceries to your apartment. You were screwed but somehow you still survived, with your one handgun that you nicked off the corpse of your dead dad. The irony was you didn't even use it in three years; you never used your gun – god, did you even know how to use it? You highly doubted it.

You claimed yourself a small cottage in the forest. It wasn't much but pretty well-hidden, and you built-in safety measurements so no walker could surprise you by night. You lived in a shithole but at least in a comfortable manner. The house had three small bedrooms, a kitchen with a tiled stove, a fireplace, a water source, and enough space outside so you could grow all sorts of vegetables and fruits. Pumpkins, potatoes, cucumbers, tomatoes, strawberries, and raspberries highlight your perfect garden. You even had some apple and cherry trees you took great pride in. Before all started, you couldn't say you were good at gardening; even your cactus didn't survive the neglect you put them through – but you used all your remaining time learning about farming and providing for yourself, growing plants you can use as medication. In your imagination, you would somehow manage to have some chickens and cows, but you knew it would draw way too much attention, and you liked your hidden lifestyle way too much for this to happen. You were quite naive; you thought this would stay this way until-.

You heard sounds from your garden – nothing unusual since some local animals came and tried to steal a carrot or two, but then the sounds of multiple men echoed.

"Fuck."

They blundered in weird ways, talking about finding a safe place and raiding something. You ran upstairs, grabbed your handgun, and hid in the closet.

"Fuck, here isn't anything useful," a man with a hoarse voice and a British accent cursed all my cabins violently.

"Johnny, you will get through this; you won't die on me," a man said with a worried voice.

"He has a fucking bullet in his shoulder; how can he fucking survive this?" A bullet in his shoulder, probably not gone through. If it didn't hit anything major, his survival rate would be 80% in a normal world, depending on the material of the bullet; he could survive or die. If it's lead and stays inside his body, he will be dead in at least 4 days from lead poisoning. If the wound isn't properly cleaned – blood poisoning. If they take it out of him and don't properly sew him – death. This man hasn't a high chance of surviving. You could at least triple the chance of his survival, but if you get out there, you would probably lose the chance of survival by several digits. Your morale was high; you swore an oath to help every human you were capable of saving, but was it worth more than your own life?

"Shut the fuck up," the worried man screamed at the other.

You decided to stay in the closet, a choice you'd later regret, your lack of courage weighing on you as survival seemed uncertain. Tears slowly started to fall from your eyes, running against your soft rosy cheeks. Your handgun was clutched tightly in your sweaty palms, your breath trembling from pure horror, convinced that today might be your last.

With a sudden grunt, the closet door swung open. Before you stood four imposing men, each holding big machine guns, and a fifth man, held by another, similarly armed.

In front of you was a middle-aged man with brown hair, a fishing hat atop his head, and the most amazing blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall and muscular, with a well-groomed beard for an apocalypse. Handsome and scary simultaneously.

The second man was one of the most attractive individuals you'd ever laid eyes on. He had brown-golden skin, trusting brown eyes, and a cap perched on his head. His gaze held a mix of awe and confusion as he looked at you.

The third man was colossal, ripped with muscles, and possibly the tallest person you'd encountered. He sported a blonde buzz cut and blue eyes that glowed red, giving him an intimidating aura. With an unhealed scar across his eyes and some stubles, he probably was incapable of growing a beard because of the scar tissue.

The fourth man looked similar to the one with the fishing hat; the only difference was his dirty blonde hair and tattoo sleeves. You noticed the prosthetic leg and wondered whether it had been dealt with properly – you sure as hell could help him too.

The last one was the man who got shot, and held by the scary men. He was the shortest of the group but still taller than you by several inches. His hair was in a funny mohawk, and he was ripped – not a bit; he was built like a fucking powerhouse. You couldn't shake the thought away that if you had known him through med school, learning anatomy would have been different – all those muscles – focus.

You thought that your potential killers were all good-looking, each in different ways. Despite this, you still pointed your gun at them, and they held their machine guns at you.

"A woman – I thought they were all dead," the man with the cap said, making you curious. All dead? When you last left your forest two years ago, there weren't many women, but there were still some out there.

You gathered all your remaining courage, shaking as you said, "Leave me alone, or I shoot." They laughed at you. Okay, they had more people and bigger guns, but you could still harm at least one of them.

"Oh, dove, your gun is still secured," the man with the fishing hat said, trying to hold out a laugh.

You tried to fidget with your gun, but you didn't know how to unsecure it. So, you just lowered it and held your hands up in the air.

"We don't have time for this shit. Knock her out or something; we need to fucking save Johnny," the scary man said, sending shivers down your spine out of fear.

"If you don't kill me, I'll save your friend." Win-win situation; you'll survive, and your morals are saved.

"Shut the fuck up. How could a stupid girl who can't even use a gun save him?" the scary man screamed. You were sure that he had a special bond with this Johnny, sure as hell best friends or lovers by how he acted.

"I'm a surgeon; I can remove the bullet," you said.

"You're a surgeon?" the tattoo man asked in disbelief at your claim.

"Which field?" the scary man asked you.

"Uhm, I was a pediatric surgeon."

"Does he look like a fucking child to you?"

"Simon, we don't have much choice. It's better than nothing; he will die if we don't do anything," Fisher hat man tried to convince Simon.

Simon agreed. "What do you need?"

You were afraid to be a bit rusty, but you'll make it. "Okay, one of you will bring me as much water as he can gather, one needs to guard the door. I don't need any interruptions in my surgery. One needs to stay in the room; this will hurt as hell without proper numbing. My surgical equipment is in the closet by the bathroom, as well as the medication I produced. You need to tie him to the bed; I don't know how, and I don't care, as long as he doesn't try to kill me while I try to fix his shoulder, and I need a promise that I won't be killed if he doesn't survive."

"Yes, ma'am," the tattoo guy said and was on his way. All the men worked efficiently, making you wonder if they had some military background since they listened better than my old residents, at least.

The man who introduced himself as Kyle - by the way, the only one who introduced himself to you - tied Johnny to the bed. Everything was now prepared, and you tried to make this place as sterile as possible.

You sat down on Johnny since you couldn't stand properly by the bed for the surgery and had the advantage of holding him down with your body weight.

"Hey Johnny, this will hurt a bit, okay, but you need to be strong, okay?" You talked to him like with your child patients, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, it mattered to save him.

Johnny spoke completely drowsy from the pain, "Am I deid, Lt? Or how come dae I see an angel oan tap o' me?" You chuckled; even in pain, you noticed that that man was a total flirt.

"Shut up, Johnny, and survive," Simon said.

"Love ya, Lt."

"I love you too, idiot." You were right in your thoughts; they were indeed a couple and a handsome one. You couldn't shake the feeling away, though, that he probably would kill you in the most vicious way if Johnny didn't survive.

You slid your scalpel through him and started the surgery after at least six terrible hours of fear and exhaustion; you were finished; you saved him. You were a bit envious of Johnny; Simon stayed the whole time by his side without being grossed out or yawning for a second; they loved each other. You never experienced that kind of love and never will...

Now he only needs to survive the aftermath of the surgery, which will be harder for his body than the actual surgery since the adrenaline wore off. You were glad that you were able to nick some antibiotics and real medication from a nearby emergency station. You were always better safe than sorry.

You removed the blood from yourself and washed yourself with cold water, which felt like an eternity till you pronounced yourself clean enough. You put on some cozy clothing and walked to the living room where three men sat sandwiched on the small couch. Simon stayed by Johnny.

You planted yourself across from them and looked at them until Fisher Man Hat spoke.

"Thank you for saving our man; I'm John, by the way."

"Alex."

"Well, you already know my name; how can we call you?" Kyle asked you.

"Uhm, everyone always called me Dr. Angel, since the kiddies compared me to one," you replied, telling them the truth.

"Beautiful nickname for a beautiful woman," John said.

You couldn't hide a blush, and Kyle asked you how it came that you lived alone. You explained your life story without boring them for one second.

"Tell me something about the six of you."

"Uhm, we were special forces back in the days before everything went downhill. We protected some scientists who worked on a cure, but they didn't make it and died in one of their experiments. We are originally seven, but the other two are on a raid right now for our camp. I know we probably scare you, but if you want to, you can stay with us, no strings attached. We know how humanity changed, and being the only woman alive makes it even scarier, but we will protect you since you saved one of our own," John explained. You were still confused, only woman alive? How is this possible? Well, you were immune to the virus, but you didn't need to tell them right now since this would make you even more vulnerable.

"Only woman alive?"

"Yes, dove, the woman's got instinct with them, the human race." You gulped; your moral codex spoke to you again. Shouldn't you prevent that from happening? Or is this nature's plan? You didn't want to think about it further.

"Does anyone of you want to eat something? I'm starving," you exclaimed, trying to change the subject to something less uncomfortable.

"You don't have to feed us; you already did enough," Kyle said.

"Nonsense! I'm hungry, and I have more than enough vegetables to feed a whole army," you protested and walked towards your kitchen. You took out the preserved tomatoes and potatoes and wanted to slice them, but a tall figure already removed your knife from your hands.

"Let me help; it's the least thing I can do after you did so much for us," Alex said and started to slice the vegetables while you tried to heat your pot. The other two put plates on your small kitchen table, making it feel incredibly domestic for you. They looked like husbands caring for their wives, and you wanted to shake out the thoughts in your head. You were just underfucked from the whole apocalypse, but deep down, you knew they did something to you, made you feel a tight knot in your stomach.

You took one portion up to Simon, who still gathered around Johnny's bed. With a sudden movement, the tall man hugged you tight, almost crushing you with his sheer strength.

"Thank you for saving him and sorry for being mean to you."

"I understand; I'd do the same if someone I dearly loved would be injured in this hell of a life," he tried to pull a smile at my words. "Here's some hot food, and give Johnny his antibiotics in an hour, okay?"

"Hot food? I haven't had that since forever."

I laughed, "Get used to it, big boy." He raised a brow but didn't question it.

You went downstairs and saw the men laughing while waiting for you like true gentlemen. Kyle blushed a bit when you came down, and they instantly stopped their talk. You asked yourself what they talked about, maybe something that would be dangerous. They ate like starved men and told you how long they didn't have anything warm in their bellies, making you realize how lucky you were in your cottage with your grown food. The only thing you were missing was someone to warm your bed—stop it, you said to your inner thoughts.

You gave the remaining boys some blankets and showed them enough places to sleep, and as they didn't mind sharing, everything went perfectly. Alex took the patrol for the night, telling you it needed to be done even if you never patrolled for the last two years. The other men called you naive for it. You checked one time on Johnny if he had a fever or anything like that, but to your luck, he was fine, still asleep and high on medication. Simon slept beside him, and you couldn't stop yourself from putting a blanket on top of him. He deserved the comfort after taking care of his boyfriend that way.

John walked you down to your room, talking a bit to you, which gave you more comfort than you wanted to admit. You were a human after all, and humans missed humans when they lived two years in isolation to survive.

"Did you ever think about what it means for you to be the only woman alive?" he asked you.

"It's pretty weird to think about it."

"Kinda."

"I guess the human race will go extinct then."

"There are ways if you decide to—you know, save the planet and everything. You seem like a girl who always wants to do the right thing."

"You mean getting pregnant?"

"Exactly, saving the human race and everything."

"Would it be selfish if I let it die?"

"A bit, but it's your choice. I will always protect you from everyone who wants to take advantage of you. You're part of the team now."

"And what if I decide to want to save it?"

His eyes lit up. "Then, of course, I'd support you, like every man on this team. I think most of my boys wouldn't be repulsed by helping you to reach this goal." You blushed hard. Did he just tell you—shit.

"And what about you, John?"

"I'd be more than willing to participate. You're incredibly looking, dove, and I'm just a man behind all this."

"I'll think about it," but you couldn't shake away the feeling of them—you could have all of them.

"Take your time, dove." He kissed you on your rosy cheek and left you completely crazy alone with your thoughts. It was too long ago, and you felt the familiar feeling building up inside of you. Fuck it, you thought and decided to speak with them about it tomorrow. You're a good person after all, right? And that's what a good person does?

[evvlevie]

Are you desperate to manifest? Then read my advice.

Hello my sweet followers! It's your favorite shifting/manifestation Blogger Evie again, and today I am here to soothe your nerves.

See, if you are anything like me, I know you. I know the way you have been obsessing over this particular desire of yours, closely watching every single possible hint of this desire arriving in your 3D and continuously over-consuming content on social media regarding manifestation/shifting content.

And since I have been there, I know what kind of advice you are craving. What kind of "hack" you are desperately seeking to finally unlock you having everything you have ever wished for. Coming across thousands of methods, overthinking their legitimacy, doubting everything, feeling like you are pushing your desires away, and then panicking, genuinely panicking, over the fact that you are sabotaging your own self and your desires. All of this ending with asking yourself why you deny yourself heaven.

Let me guide you through this.

First of all:

forget everything you have over-consumed in the last days/weeks/months. All of this extracurricular type of knowledge that you acquired regarding manifestations and all of that. Allow the two of us to start with a clean canvas here.

... you done? Thank you, my darling ♥️

Now let me tell you something about manifestation ...

Key, and I mean 🔑 K E Y 🔑 to manifesting things, is trust and faith.

yes. It's that easy, but also that hard.

Due to the way our society is constructed, we life our lives with the expectation that everything good only comes after a lot of hard work, a lot of pressure and most importantly : control.

There you have reason number one why people get in their own way when manifesting things. They doubt their manifestations can arrive "just because" they wished on it or believed on it. They can not trust into the fact, that that is all it can take, they believe they need some sort of control over their blessings. They want to know how it arrives, when it arrives, maybe even why it arrives. They want to control something, because that would satisfy their belief, that nothing comes from nothing.

Y O U are a spiritual being. Y O U are consciousness. Y O U are also the physical environment that you are in. Your 3D is Y O U.

But your cute little desperate, over-consuming ass knows that already doesn't it? Of course you do. And I am here to reward you with your own little ✨A+✨ for effort, but you need to understand the essence of what it means that the 3D is Y O U.

Your 3D is a direct, and I mean direct, translation of your soul. You and your physical environment are tied together. You are conjoined twins. You might seem like two separate entities, but on every level that matters, you guys are one. Your moods get reflected into the 3D, just like the 3D can affect your mood by presenting you a certain situation. But it is important to note, that everything starts with your assumptions, and ends with your 3D producing the physical version of that. Let me say this again: the 3D is a P R O D U C T of YOUR ASSUMPTIONS. Anything that you see, feel, smell whatever, is old news. It is the physical shape of your PAST thoughts.

So now, when you are affirming that your neighbor is in love with you and is going to ask for your hand in marriage, and he doesn't do it the very next day, do you assume your manifestations have failed? Maybe. Are you panicking now, because you have thought a negative thought and the entire internet has taught you, that this negative thought has now prevented you from ever attaining your desire ever? And do you now affirm against your accidental self sabotage in the way that you are drowning your head in forced positive thoughts that you are not believing a single bit? And are you now back to panicking because you know that you don't believe your forced positive thoughts, and you are anxious that this has now pushed your manifestations further back away?

I have been there. In fact I can only type out this scenario because I HAVE FELT THAT WAY.

But rest assured, because here is where my 🔑 K E Y🔑 of trust and faith ties in.

When I tell you, that you are a spiritual energy capable of changing your physical reality as much as you like, as enormously as you want, I want you to think of yourself like a greek god, or a magician of some sort. As if you had a blank notebook in front of you and anything you write in it happens. 100% Guarantee. How powerful would you feel? That's your exact, and I mean exact, power. The 3D is not your commander. You are like a child with infinite fantasy and the 3D is just play-doh that you mold to your liking. Realize your power. And most importantly: ACCEPT it. Accept, that even the bad stuff that had happened to you, happens BECAUSE of you. Nothing ever starts from anything else other than you. Remember: the 3D is like your conjoined twin. It is not your enemy, because it's delayed production shows you things you dislike, it's simply just you.

✨Now imagine this:✨

Let's say you want to manifest, that you get a brand new car. A MINI. Let's say a red one (totally not suggesting this because I drive a red MINI). And let's say you want that car so bad, you look up at the sky and shout at it : "Please god! Let me have a red MINI! Preferably with a heated steering wheel!" AND TO YOUR SURPRISE a woman right next to you overheard your little prayer there and tells you this: "Lucky for you, I am a fortune teller! And I can see that you are driving a red MINI with a heated steering wheel AND it even has Apple Car-Play!" You jump up and down out of joy and nothing can stop you. Your mother just told you that you guys can't afford another car insurance but you don't care, because the fortune teller already told you about your crazy cool red MINI. Suddenly the every MINI-dealership on the planet is destroyed in a hurricane, but you don't care because you know from your fortune-teller that you will get a red MINI, so why would you bother? Two weeks since then have passed, and out of nowhere your father confesses to you, that he has partaken in a crazy poker-game where a random rich dude has gambled with his brand new, red MINI-Cooper and that your very own dad (who you didn't even know, knew how to play poker) has won this amazing car for you (and it even has heated seats!).

This scenario, is what manifestation is for you, every day. Persisting in a fact that you already have something, despite the 3D showing you different, is trust and faith in yourself as the one and only creator of your reality. YOU are your own fortune teller. YOU know, that your desire is on its way to you, because you decided that it is. Every single time, you manifest things and the opposite is showing up, you need to be your own best friend, your own hero, your own fortune teller and your own creator and remind yourself, that you have all of your desires on their way, because only you can make a decision in your realm. You look outside of the window and there is no MINI in the driveway? Well I guess the translation into the 3D is slow again, because I know I manifested one.

Things have always taken its longest way to me, when I desperately tried to control. Tried to monitor and tried to micro-manage the way stuff happens. And when it didn't come quick enough, I would blame myself and question my powers. But there is no reason to question your powers, when you as the creator are prefect in creating. Your production might be slow, It might be weird and it produces in unexpected ways, but it's for sure reliable. When you put oranges into a juicing machine, you get orange juice. You just have to trust into your own production company that its producing your products (and they are).

There is no reason, no room for anxiety, for overthinking or doubts. The process is simple. You order, you get. Every time. Nothing else. And sometimes you see your old orders before you see your recent ones, but that's okay your recent ones are still on their way. If you were to bawl your eyes out the moment your mother told you, she won't buy you a red MINI, that wouldn't have changed the fact that the fortune teller already predicted you that car. You would just be crying for no reason, but idk maybe you just need to? Who am I to judge the reason someone is crying, bestie?

Manifesting with this anxious overthinking scenario I showed you earlier can feel heavy, but I am here to remind you, that your anxious 3D-reactions are not postponing your manifestations, if you as a creator decide, that you are allowed to react without consequences, or at least without the consequences you would disapprove of. If you panic, and you feel like every single thought matters and manifests, then yeah obviously. The trick is to realize, that there is a cheat code to everything, and in this case, it's deciding that certain things just never happen because you don't want them to.

So finally I want you guys to remember:

be your own fortune teller, and trust into the fact that you always predict correctly.

yours in every reality,

Evie <3

[coldlovehotblood]

Trouble

you had wanted something more for so long, and izzy toys with you until you hit breaking point.

w/c: 4,446

warnings: drug use, mild and brief smut (more details here)

a/n: i can’t decide if it happy with this or not… but pls enjoy!! (thank you violet for being so patient😭)

Chess is a game of strategy: one of calculated back and forth, back and forth. White then black, white then black. There is no mercy, and so you have to be smart if you want to get anywhere.

Similarly, you and your best friend had this peculiar back and forth, back and forth. White then black, white then black. A strategic to and fro you have yet to name that had begun to toe the line of danger.

The only difference between the two is how a game is started. For chess, it can be a rather formal affair, but for you and Izzy’s, all it took was one look to initiate play.

Call it bedroom eyes if you want, but that look created a wildfire of twisted pleasure that could only stop by burning until theres nothing left to burn. The fire would show it’s ferocity through depraved actions taken by each player. The white of neutral friendship darkens at the flip of a switch.

It was so much more than a look of seduction, it was an invitation to let yourself go entirely. It was an opportunity to let loose every carnal desire, every twisted need that spreads like mould over your conscience, any sick fantasy that's made you drip. You play this teasing psychological push and pull and its the most deliciously torturous thing you’d ever experienced. Who are you kidding, anything is delicious if its him.

You and Izzy had broken the boundary of ‘just friends’ long ago. There were too many feelings involved to call it ‘friends with benefits’ either, and no one wanted to question it, so the two of you had spent those last few months walking a tightrope called ‘The Game’.

Neither of you let on if it was causing emotional turmoil of any kind, but on one particular night, things changed.

You had attended one of the band's shows and were pressed right up to the edge of the stage. Of course, you had chosen the side you knew Izzy would be standing on. You had decided not to tell him you were coming, so when the lights brightened fully and you caught his eye, a great smile came over his face as he played.

You were enjoying yourself. You were enjoying watching him perform along with the others. He continuously looked over to you with that smile of his, and when he did, he’d strum his guitar a little harder, fall into the beat of the song a little further, and gradually he lost himself to the music. When he sang along with Axl, his voice was as sultry as always. You couldn't help how your cheeks reddened when you heard it.

Izzy had always belonged to the stage, it was where he was most in his element. He had always stuck out to you more that the rest, shone a little brighter while performing alongside his bandmates. You knew exactly why, but didn't dare say it out loud and often even to yourself, as you pushed the thought away by instinct at that point.

You watched him walk all over the stage like he owned it, because he did. The unit Guns and Roses took over every stage they stood upon and blessed it with their flash flood of talent. There was no way everyone else in the crowd wasn't falling over themselves for him.

Heartthrob piece of shit.

You watched him saunter and strut up and down the stage brazenly, knowing how it made him look.

That’s something you couldn’t stand about him: the fact his cockiness was absolutely justified. Who wouldn't be proud to show off their skills when they are that good? It was both infuriating and mesmerising. As much as you teased him for thinking he was so great, he genuinely was fucking brilliant. The way his hand slid over the fret bar, knowing exactly where to go without a second thought. The way his fingers plucked away with precise strength and speed. It was incredible to watch.

He looked over to you and saw you staring. He wasn't totally sure what it was that had you so gripped, but he came over and sat down right in front of you, high-fiving some lucky people on the way.

He had settled himself directly in front of you, legs hanging off the stage's edge. So close you could smell his cologne and watch each bead of sweat trail down his skin.

"What are you doing here?" you shouted over the crowds roars.

"What are you doing here?" he replied, "'cause I'm doing my job."

"Well I don't know who you are, but I must say, your playing is great."

"Just great? ‘S that all I'm getting from you, doll?"

Doll.

Your gut curled.

"Excuse me?"

"Got a problem, sweetheart?"

You wanted to scream 'you're no fair' right in his face with the whole crowd watching because he knew what he was doing, but all you could do was gaze at him with a slightly dazed expression as your cheeks heated up for the umpteenth time that night.

You looked right into his eyes, lips slightly parted, and blinked slowly.

A smug, knowing grin took over his face. One that only you would know the meaning of.

The game had started.

He hopped up and continued playing, and the rest of the show went as usual, but he was being a bit more adventurous. A bit more annoying. He had sat down on the other side of the stage and tucked another woman’s hair behind her ear, smiling all silly and knowing at her. He knew what buttons to press a bit too well. He knew you too well, too intimately. He knew what got you going and what pissed you off the most.

Once the show had been closed, you stormed through the venue to the dressing rooms. There was no resistance from security; they knew your face. As you went down each hallway, your anger bubbled more and more in your stomach where that curl was felt earlier.

Bursting into the dressing room, Axl laughed and punched Izzy’s shoulder.

“Ooo someones in trouble.”

“Mmh,” you hummed, not even looking his way, lasering on Izzy only.

You motioned for him to move.

“Get up.”

“No.”

“Yes. Up.”

“No, thank you.”

He was impossible. You walked out, slamming the door behind you.

The night hadn't even properly started yet and he already had you fired up, ready to punch a wall.

You had almost reached the end of the hall when you heard a door open and close behind you, and then he was there, grabbing your wrist, with the same smirk he’d had plastered over his face all night.

“Come, honey.”

You seethed at him.

“No. I can’t look at you.”

“I doubt that.”

He ever so gently guided you back down the hall. However much you hated him in the moment, you could never deny him. No matter how hard you tried. He brought you to another room, a separate dressing room, and locked the door, sitting you down on a couch pressed against the wall.

He sat beside you. You turned away.

“What’s wrong?”

“You know what the fuck is wrong, don't play dumb.”

“I wont lie to you, I'm on a great adrenaline high right now, so you're gonna have to be a bit more specific.”

You huffed, curling into the arm of the sofa, putting distance between the two of you.

“I thought you said we wouldn't bring others into this—” you paused, thinking of what to call it, “This thing we have.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“But we arent exclusive, right?”

You stopped playing with the hem of your skirt to look him dead in the eyes.

“You said you weren’t interested in a relationship, but said that no one could get in the way of us. Make your mind up.”

It was Izzy’s turn to pause.

“I guess I did, but just because I was flirting with someone else doesn't mean I want a relationship with them, or that I was breaking the rules.”

His eyes lit up with realisation when you glared at him.

“You’re jealous, arent you?”

You scoffed, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Oh you so are.”

You got up from your seat and started pacing the room, looking at the floor to avoid seeing his smug face in any of the mirrors.

“I am not jealous.”

“I knew you could be, but this bad? Damn, if I had known it riled you up this much, I would've done it a lot sooner,” he said with a laugh, “And more often.”

“But that's just it. I don’t want you to. It pisses me off beyond belief to see you looking at anyone else with the eyes you look at me with.”

“But this is what we are, isn't it? We push and pull. It’s how we’ve always been.”

There was the truth, and it stung to hear it said out loud where you couldn't escape. Over the months this ‘game’ had spanned, you had toyed with the idea of something more serious with him. Something more significant. Because when the round had ended and the two of you were left with the afterglow, things felt so easy, and as if they could be normal. With the shape of your bodies resting against each other like jigsaw pieces, it felt like everything was in it’s rightful place. There was a warmth that settled in both of your stomachs and drew you closer, both physically and maybe metaphysically. And when your legs tangled and chests touched as gold started to seep through the curtains with daybreak, it was as if your souls had tethered.

But it was nothing serious. At least, that's what he kept saying. Even though, when shitfaced drunk, he said sweet things and kissed you softer than usual. Even though, when he was shot up on ridiculous amounts of heroin, he held you close and looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky. Even though, when he tried to snort so much it clogged his nose, he always looked out for you and made sure you were alright and safe. With the amount of teasing his bandmates did, you'd think the two of you were together, but that was far from the truth, wasn't it?

It was in that moment you realised that push and pull had slowly bisected you without your knowlege, the halves so close to equal it was infuriating. It had split a ravine in you, leaving enough space for a nasty feeling to fester and feed on your emotional whiplash.

“What if I don’t want it to be push and pull, Izzy?” you hissed, “What if I wanted to be yours?”

He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Aren’t you?”

…Was he serious?

“You’re joking.”

“About what?”

“But you literally said you weren't looking for anything serious.”

You stormed over to the makeup table on the other side of the room and began tearing it apart in search of something to hide the fact tears were gathering in your lower lash line.

“Well yeah, but I never said I didn't want anything with you.”

You stopped your furious rifling through the drawers and looked at him behind you in the mirror.

You couldn't believe him as he sat there, one leg over the other, leaning as nonchalant as ever on the arm of the sofa as if he didnt just drop a bomb on you.

“You're unbelievably difficult, and it's fucking infuriating.”

“You love it.”

You leapt up from the makeup chair and stood over him, getting right up in his face, so close you could feel his steady breaths on your skin.

“You better be serious or I swear to God above, Jeffery, I will ruin your life.”

He looked straight into your blazing eyes with his own half-glassy gaze.

“I’m serious.”

You raised your brow, not sure if you should believe him in such a state- still letting the post-show adrenaline fizzle out at its own pace, still letting the screams of the crowd feed his ego by letting them echo in his head, but he reached up, held your cheek and repeated himself with more conviction. More finality.

“I’m fucking serious, ok?”

He leaned in and kissed you gently with such reverence and care. Every flame within you was snuffed.

“I swear im serious,” he whispered.

That’s all it took for you to lean in yourself and kiss him back. His lips were smooth and he tasted like sweet whiskey as your mouths moved together. He reached out to your hips and pulled you closer till you were sitting snug on his lap. The feeling of his solid body against yours made you feel a bit more firmly tied to your own. He centred you without trying. Your fingers played with the hair on the nape of his neck and he giggled into your lips before pulling away.

“Where’d you go, tiger, hm? What happened to that heat?”

“Why don’t you say my name for once, or have you forgotten it after collecting so many other sluts?”

You chased his lips but he pulled his head away, letting out a full laugh at your words, head tilting back to rest against the sofa. He said your name. It sounded good from him. He made it sound nicer than you thought it was. His low timbre shaped it into something beautiful for you. But your name or not, anything sounded beautiful from him.

“As if i could forget it. You’re my favourite one. You get special slut perks.”

“Ew, stop making me sound bad.”

“If you’re bad then what am I?”

“A man. Men are awful.”

“Very funny.”

This time he grabbed your hair and tugged you closer. The rougher kiss made you moan into his mouth, and to such a sound he let out a pleased one of his own.

“You act like ‘slut’ doesn't get you wet,” he teased.

“Because it doesn’t.”

He suddenly let go of your hip and slithered his hand up your thighs, under your skirt and straight to your core, where he gently touched over your clothed heat.

“These soaked panties beg to differ.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“No.”

“Please,” you forced out impatiently.

“Say it like you mean it.”

A huff escaped you.

“Please.”

He gave you a pointed look. This was him testing the waters, trying to figure out what exactly you needed from him. He knew there were times when you wanted to go slow and let time drip steady like treacle, and times when you wanted to go impossibly fast and rough, to the point where every touch left stinging skin. He knew you inside and out. back to front.

“Please, Izzy,” your voice edged on a whine. You looked at him, eyes wide and needy, body open and expecting.

He had you sussed. He leaned in and gave you what you wanted.

You didn't understand how the taste of jack daniels lingered in his mouth still as he kissed you deeper. It was one of the only constants of the man. Something you had come to associate with him. A fact so deeply ingrained into your mind that if you were in a bar and the sweet smell you knew so well hit your nose, you walked out. It was strange and maybe a bit insane how loyal you were to this man, but, as scary as it was to admit to even yourself, you were head over heels for the fucker and wanted nothing else.

Was it avoidance, or devotion?

He slid his hands over the swell of your ass and pushed up from under your skirt again, making it bunch at your waist. You groaned at the sensation of cold skin meeting yours. You started to grind into him a bit and he let out an appreciative noise in return before pulling away again, lifting your hips and putting you on one knee.

“Hold on, baby,” he said as you opened your mouth in protest. He quickly unzipped and unbuttoned his jeans and reached into his boxers. You assumed he was going for his half-hard dick with impatience, but much sooner than you expected, he retracted his hand with a small, clear bag in clutch. You rolled your eyes in response, feeling almost fond. Only he would be desperate enough to hide extra in his boxers, of all places. it was sad. But you were his, didn't he say?

“What’s that?” you ask, starting up a slow grind into his thigh again in an attempt to feed the heat boiling in your core.

“’S a speedball,” he muttered as he then tested each front pocket of his jeans to produce a dollar bill.

You stopped grinding to look at him with worry. A speedball was… The last thing you wanted to see him doing. The concoction was a catalyst that had sent too many people you knew into awful states and more often than not, lead them to quick deaths. It was dangerous, and you didn't like that he was just casually fishing this out of his jeans. He saw the look on your face and rolled his own eyes.

“What? it’s not even that much.”

He was right. There was only a little bit in the bag, but that didn't make it feel any safer. You didn't know what amount looked safe and you highly doubted he knew either.

“Where did you even get it?”

“Don't worry about it. Wanna split?” he held it between two fingers and gestured towards you, a sly smile settling on his face. You shook your head in response. His face fell a bit. “It should be safe enough. Sure you don't want a little bit? I'm here, I wouldn't let you go overboard.”

“I really don't think you should take it, Iz, speedballs aren't safe—”

“And coke or dope is? It’s all the same stuff, and look at the size of this fuckin’ thing. It’s nothing.”

Your face twisted up further in disagreement and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Fine then, I’ll have it. Forget I asked. C’mere,” he huffed and began lifting you again when you tensed.

“What? I'm not taking any—”

“I’m snorting off of your collar,” he pushed out, visibly becoming more irritated, grabbing your hips tighter “Now come here.”

“Izzy—”

“Just let me take this shit so it’s gone!” he forcefully lifted you to sit fully in his lap.

The sudden shift left you kind of shaken. You’d never seen him get so worked up over drugs, but then again, you had never stopped him from taking anything before. His habitual substance use should've bothered you more than it did, but you were just as bad, normally joining in, which was why he offered in the first place, but knowing he was going to take something you knew was so dangerous set you on edge and made every nerve in your body spark a little bit. Enough to get through the thickening fog of lust. You just hated the fact you cared so much about someone who cared so little.

He began roughly pushing your leather jacket off your shoulders and threw it across the room.

“Why are you being so difficult, baby? This could be so easy,” he whispered harshly into one ear as his hands reached for the hem of your white shirt to push it up your torso. You helped him by pulling it the rest of the way, and his face fell into gorgeous content once again. You decided then that he’d be fine. This was just a one-off of him trying out a different kind of high; a trial to see how a different kind of punch settles.

He made his usual path up and down your body. Admiring the way your lace bra adorned your chest, admiring the way your tits fell out of it when he unclipped it hastily, breaking a few of the clasps in the process. He sucked a harsh bruise into the crook of your neck and brought his hands beneath your thighs to lift you as he stood up, turning and depositing you onto the sofa again and pushing you, softer than expected, by your shoulders to lie down.

He was a sight for sore eyes normally, but from beneath him, where the sparse light from one of the Hollywood mirrors haloed him and obscured his face slightly, he made your heart race.

He loomed over you as he opened the little bag and tapped most of its contents into the dip of your collar bone. You barely felt the powder as it fell onto your skin. Izzy had this glint in his eye as he straightened out a line. A dangerous one that made your stomach tighten a bit. Maybe this wasn't a good idea, but had it in front of him now.

Once he’d rolled up the bill, you watched him lean down, eyes locked onto yours as he brought the self made tooter to his nose before his head dipped and he inhaled sharply. The bill tickled your skin as he moved it. He sat up and threw his head back with a breathy groan.

“Finally,” Izzy whispered.

You weren't happy, but you couldn't stay mad at the sight before you.

His finger traced where the line had been and he tapped your jaw with his other hand.

“Open.”

“I told you I'm not-”

“Open that fucking mouth,” he spat, hand now clamping either side of your face, squishing your cheeks to part your lips. He shoved the finger he’d brought along your collar under your top lip and dragged it along your gums. You nipped his finger with your teeth as you tried to shake your head free. He retracted his finger with a hiss, let go of your face and slapped you.

Hard.

“I’m being nice and cleaning up. Let me be nice and we’ll have a good time.”

“Are you deaf or something?!” you cried.

“No, and neither are you, last time I checked. Listen to me next time.”

He rolled his eyes and moved down your body again, this time taking off your lace underwear.

“You’re being an ass, Izzy.”

“Okay?”

His attitude to this whole thing was confusing.

And scary.

Sure, you were often rough with each other. Sure, you and him took drugs together all the time. The difference was that all of it had been loosely agreed. This sudden introduction to a new drug had put you on edge. This was too new, and he was being so careless.

He moved between your thighs and pushed your legs up a bit, putting you on full display for him.

“You’re going to listen to me this time, and listen well,” he spoke, looking at you sternly, “I’m going to eat you out and you’re going to be quiet.”

You nodded meekly.

His head dipped towards your dripping heat.

Knock, knock, knock.

Izzy tensed up immediately. You felt him begin to pant from between your legs as a muffled voice came from outside.

“Izzy? You there? We gotta go, man. They won’t let us stay here any longer cause they say we’ll do shit… Or something… I don’t get the fuss but we gotta take our shit and go.”

You recognised the voice as Slash, but Izzy seemed to not, looking at the closed door with wide eyes. The knocks now turned into bangs.

“Are you here or not? We’ve looked everywhere-“

“He’s here!” you called innocently, “just give us a sec-“ you were cut off by a hand coming over your mouth. Izzy scrambled over you and reached for his back pocket, pulling out a switchblade. He retracted the blade and held it in front of him, looking extremely unsure. You could see the quick rise and fall of his chest above you.

“No way you guys are fucking in this dump- Hurry up!” Slash shouted.

The sound of footsteps faded but Izzy still stared at the door, back taut like a bowstring, hand holding the switchblade shaking slightly. You very carefully moved his hand off of your mouth and said his name softly.

His head snapped towards you and he harshly whispered, “Shut the fuck up! They’re going to hear you.”

“That was Slash, baby.”

“No, it wasn’t. Don’t you dare fucking lie to me right now.”

You reached up to touch his face, and he flinched as your hand met his clammy forehead.

“It was. It’s okay. Calm down.”

You guessed it must have been given just cocaine in the little bag, not a speedball per his request. His paranoia only came on so strong when coke was in his system.

He leaned into your touch and sagged a bit, tears forming.

“It was them, I know it was.”

“It wasn’t. I promise,” you said gently as you sat up and pulled him close to your bare chest, “It’s just me and you.”

His hands dropped to his sides and he just let you hold him for a bit as he twitched. He got like this when he got scared.

You had to pick up his pieces once again.

You’d do it as many times as you had to.

You guided him to sit properly on the couch and you got up, looking for your clothes and dressing again. As you looked over at him once more, you realised that this couldn’t go on. Both the stupid game and his drug habits.

You shook yourself out after hastily tucking your shirt into your skirt, feeling that strange blurred alertness that came with coke yourself.

As you guided him out of the dressing room to the waiting group, holding his sweaty hand tight, you decided that you would have a serious talk with him about this.

About you both.

Because he was in trouble, and, in turn, so were you.

[breelandwalker]

Flower Moon - May 22-23, 2024

Ready your gathering baskets and your best shoes for traipsing, witches - it’s time to greet the Flower Moon!

Flower Moon

The Flower Moon gives us the fulfillment of the first flush of the Pink Moon, with fragrant blossoms greeting us at every turn and heralding the merry month of May. The floral name for this particular cycle is shared by a number of indigenous nations, include the Algonquin, Anishnaabe, and Dakota. Other names include Budding Moon and Frog Moon (Cree), Planting Moon (Dakota and Lakota), and the Moon of Mulberry (Choctaw).

European names for this moon include Milk Moon (Anglo-Saxon) and Hare Moon (Celtic, allegedly). Some modern pagan circles also call it the Grass Moon as well, since the flourishing of grasslands is more common in some areas than the appearance of flowers.

This full moon peaks during daylight hours in the Western Hemisphere (around 9:53am EDT), so the moon may appear to be full on both the nights of the 22nd and 23rd.

What Does It Mean For Witches?

As we pass the spring rites and move toward the summer season, it’s the perfect time to celebrate your growth and the ways in which you want to flourish. This is the season for romance and love, and not just that which comes when we put on flower crowns and go a-Maying. This is a time to love ourselves as much as each other, to celebrate our bonds, and to be reminded of our own beauty and strength. Remember the things you love about yourself and consciously take a moment to remind your loved ones how much you care for them.

It is also a time to celebrate fertility, be it animal, vegetable, mineral, or spiritual. Put new plans into action, start that project you’ve been meaning to do, embark on that new hobby or activity you wanted to try. If you have a long-term goal or a big project, now is the time to outline your path to completion and plan how to direct your energy so you don’t burn out halfway through. Don’t hold back - break through the walls of imposter syndrome and anxiety, indulge in your creative urges, and let your inspiration soar. What you choose to plant and nurture now determines what you will harvest later in the year. And above all, remember to have FUN!

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

If you’ve been feeling the urge to do some flower-related magic, now is the perfect time! Familiarize yourself with the wildflowers in your area and if possible, maybe grab your basket and scissors and go on a foraging trip. Remember to properly identify flowers before picking them, don’t overharvest, and don’t take anything from private property without permission or from national parks full stop. You can press the flowers with a notebook and something flat and heavy, or you can dry them in hanging bunches, in a cardboard tray, or in a low-temp oven for later use.

This is also a good opportunity to get your hands in the dirt and connect with the land where you live. If there are plants in your care, take a little time to do some pruning and watering. Check them for spring pests and treat where needed. Give them some love - talk to them, sing to them, encourage them to grow tall and strong and abundant. Bless them as you tend their plots and reaffirm your commitment to be a good caretaker.

As an exercise, try making flower crowns, garlands, bouquets, wreaths, or centerpieces using plant correspondences, flower language, or color magic for a desired effect. This can be done with real flowers or silk ones, depending on how long you want to keep them around. Try your hand at making flower water with roses or other blooms - it makes a wonderful base for moon water!

Experiment with recipes for dishes and drinks that use edible flowers too! Whether it’s color-changing butterfly peaflower tea, sweet and peppery nasturtium, adorable pressed pansy shortbread cookies, or the tried-and-true comforts of chamomile, flowers have many tasty secrets to offer. Don’t be afraid to add botanicals to your health and beauty routine as well! (Just make sure nothing’s going to negatively interact with your meds or irritate a pre-existing condition. Safety first!)

Whether you do so with your near-and-dear, your witchy circle, or by yourself, celebrate everything that blooms - including you!

Happy Flower Moon, witches! 🌕🌼

Further Reading:

Additional Lunar Calendar posts by Bree NicGarran

Flower Moon: Full Moon in May 2024, The Old Farmer’s Almanac

Moonrise and Moonset Calculator, The Old Farmer’s Almanac

Flower Meanings: Symbolism of Flowers, Herbs, and More Plants, The Old Farmer’s Almanac

Floriography, the Language of Flowers, AllFlorists.co.uk

Flower Power: Flower Moon Spiritual Meaning and Stunning Magic, The Peculiar Brunette

How to Dry Flowers 5 Ways, MasterClass, June 7, 2021

DIY Floral Water or Hydrosol, Patti Estep, Hearth and Vine, July 4, 2021

17 Edible Flower Recipes, Better Homes and Gardens, March 8, 2022

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison

(If you’re enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

[toutvatoujoursbien]

midnight thoughts (i hope i don't regret this)

Let me preface this by saying that these are just (very, very long) ramblings I’ve had in my head over the past few days and are MY opinions. I never post to Tumblr, but my level of emotional unhinged-ness right now needs an outlet so that I can process everything and feel, well, less unhinged.

I have never been this enamored with any celebrity or promo for a show like I have for this season of Bridgerton. Admittedly, I am a fan of the books and Penelope & Colin are my favorite couple. I’m going to age myself by saying that I read the series almost 20-ish years ago; past me could have never imagined I would actually get to see a Regency romance on my screen. Romances are for the girlies, and what the girlies like tends to be mocked, ridiculed, and not taken seriously - I’ve seen this time and time again across many different fandoms. I also really enjoy the tv series for being its own creative adaptation. I’ve liked many (though not all) of the changes they’ve made to the show; and I’ve liked all the little nods to the books that have been sprinkled in. Are the books or show perfect? Of course not, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love them for bringing me some entertainment and joy and escapism. I think that’s the beauty of it, I get to have the best of both worlds, so to speak. And for me personally, it’s been so fun to watch the press coverage over the past six or so months. As a fandom, I think we’ve been EXTREMELY well fed. 

Having Nicola and Luke as the leads has been a true blessing; I think/hope folks can tell how much they clearly love and understand their characters/roles. I know everyone has been talking nonstop about their chemistry and their close friendship, which I think is beautiful, truly unique and special. How can you not enjoy watching two people, who seem to genuinely like one other, talk endlessly about a project that they love and have poured so much into? And the way they have supported one another, not only during promo, but during their years of friendship? Astonishing, really. So while I am old enough to know better than to ship real people, I would’t blame anyone (myself included) if they got caught up in the whirlwind excitement and couldn’t help but wonder a sincere “What if?” (At least that was the case for me.) Isn’t that the beauty of hope and possibility and potential? Like, I knew rationally and intellectually that the likelihood of them being together was low, but damn if I didn’t feel giddy seeing their interviews, reading articles, and watching video after video.

“Oh, but it’s all PR!” they cry. Maybe, but like most of life, I don’t think it’s so simple or clear. I think there’s been a lot of nuance and perhaps some blurring of the lines during this promo tour. As long as we are respectful about it and realize that at the end of the day, the only opinions that matter in regards to their relationship are N & L’s, I don’t think some lighthearted dreaming is unheard of. We have to remember, though, that what we’re shown is only a fraction of their true selves, carefully and deliberately curated to accommodate their status as actors/celebrities/those in the public eye. 

(And yes, I know this is the internet and therefore everyone has an opinion - again, myself included. But I struggle to understand why some people think that their opinions should be deemed THE most important to the discussion or would have an impact on any type of outcome, especially in this particular scenario… I hope it’s obvious I’m referring to the very vocal people that chose to expend their energy in hateful, negative ways. Aren’t you exhausted?

However, as a longtime lurker, I have to admit it’s been absolutely fascinating reading all the different perspectives and takes on this too. I think reading other POVs and seeing people articulate points that challenge me and make me think is a good thing - again, as long as it’s all in a respectful manner. 

Also I have spent literal years curating and cultivating a social media bubble that doesn’t make me want to cry or give up on life. I don’t seek out negativity and hate - constructive criticism for a thing is a different matter. It may be “putting blinders up,” but honestly, real life can be a shitty enough place that I would like to spend my limited time online looking at cute things and learning or reading about stuff that makes me feel less alone in the world.)

Last week, I stayed off social media to avoid Bridgerton spoilers until I could watch Part 2. I did open Twitter on Thursday to check on something that was entirely unrelated, saw the absolute meltdown of a shitstorm brewing and quickly NOPED out of it. (I was also reminded of why Twitter scares me at times. And I'm not calling it X because that is stupid.) When I finally caught up over the weekend (both with Bridgerton and… all the other stuff 😅), I felt like I was experiencing mental and emotional whiplash.

Look, ultimately, I don’t know them personally and know even less about their private lives. As an outside observer (even though, yes, I have a vested interest in them), Nicola is fucking amazing and Luke seems to be a nice, sweet guy. I think they are each others support, and it has been mentioned many times that she has helped him deal with the intensity/anxiety of being in the spotlight this season. So here are some potentially hot takes: I just think, when they’re together, it’s like he’s a different, better person. When he soaks up even a little bit of her light (sorry, I had to), I can see all the qualities in him that she is constantly gushing about. But, and again this is my take on it, I also think he has a lot of growing up to do. I don’t know much about his supposed “hot/fuck boy summer,” but it seems to me that he’s perhaps going through his own Colin phase, which he can totally do. I genuinely want to see him and Nic succeed. However, I do think he’s got to get a better handling on his media image now (this whole thing reeks of a PR nightmare, but I need to take off my comms professional hat). The way this has all played out has been, imo, a clusterfuck. There are other issues that I’m also not going to get into at the moment. 

The thing that frustrated me the most is the timing of those “leaked” photos. You’re telling me that N&L went through SIX months of a - literal - worldwide promo tour, building up hype, doing countless interviews and appearances, etc., only to have these pap pictures “captured” on the night of the Pt. 2 London premiere??? And yes, while I’m aware there were rumblings of a gf being at various events/locations, I didn’t pay much attention to it (read: my curated social media bubble, lol). And I think the lack of confirmation up to that point from Luke and his team just mades things even more tricky/messy. So when the inevitable backlash played out online, piled on top of the hate Polin seems to get from many corners of the internet (Is it ship wars? Regular trolls just trolling? Polin and/or Lukola antis? People who, for whatever reason, don’t like the actors themselves or, worse, don’t like the creative choices/decisions made by the higher-ups and therefore deem it okay to spread hate online? All of the above, most likely.), I know I felt like I had been hit by a train.

Here’s my point: I think what should have been a moment of triumph and a joyous occasion for Nic, Luke, and Bridgerton season 3, was sadly overshadowed by the aforementioned shitstorm. And that’s a damn shame. Too many cast and crew put in a lot of time, effort, and blood sweat and tears, to pull this all together. I was happy with Season 3, which perhaps I will deep dive about in another post because this one has already spiraled out of control. Were there things I wished they had included or, rather, things that could have been left out? Yes, of course. But at the end of the day, I think we got a beautiful story led by two actors who love Polin as much as we do. And I cannot wait to see them back for Season 4. Plus, seriously, those viewing numbers alone should have been mostly what people are talking about. I hope all this doesn’t take away from the overall impact of the show and season.

I think it’s okay to be disappointed by all the stuff that has come out over the last few days. I think it’s perfectly human to want/need to process your thoughts and emotions. What is NOT OKAY is sending hate to anyone, period. And I hope you don’t let all that has happened sour your enjoyment of Season 3 and/or Polin.

Lastly, if you take anything away from this long ass post, it’s that Nicola is a GODDAMN QUEEN. Anyone who says otherwise is speaking slander and we do not stand for that in this house. She has carried herself during this time with grace, charm, and poise, consistently and constantly. And she is always ready for a mega fashion moment. She must be exhausted - already on to her next film/job but also perpetually online, and even stepping up to defend her costar. I may have to do a whole separate post just gushing about her and add to all the people already singing her praises. (And as a big fuck you to all the haters.)

Geez Louise, I clearly have a lot of feelings (more than I allowed myself to believe I did…). But I would love to hear what others think! Please, I need friends with whom I can have rational (okay, maybe slightly unhinged), spirited, deep analyses and discussion of this whole thing, or anything else we might have in common!

[rukkiya]

what have you done

(baizhu x reader)

tw: mentions of sickness, reader struggles with breathing

More than a week has passed and now Baizhu was starting to second guess his suspicion. He found it strange how lately he’s been feeling little to no symptoms from his underlying condition.

He’s come to realize for the past few weeks he’s been in top shape, better than before.

There have been weeks maybe sometimes months where his condition seems to have no effects on him, not causing him to be in the excruciating pain he’s constantly in, but it always comes back after a while. It never leaves him for more than two months tops so he’s growing skeptical as to what could’ve helped erase his pain for this long.

You take note of his symptoms when you walk into the pharmacy for your shift.

“Good morning Dr. Baizhu, any new prescriptions for me to work on today?” You ask as you remove your coat, making your way to your office.

“No need for the formalities dear y/n, you’ve been my assistant for two years already.” He chuckles, a genuine smile gracing his features. “Only one new prescription for one of our regulars who’ll be down to pick it up later today, I’ll help you make it shortly.” You take note of his voice, how it doesn’t sound as strained and how his shoulders don’t seem as tense.

“I’ll get started, take your time.” You send him a smile back, a sigh of relief escaping your lips seeing him look at peace, knowing he’s no longer feeling pain.

Though your moment of relief was short lived. Once you turned the corner of the hall and made your way into your office you got sent into a coughing fit. One that made it hard to breathe.

The pain that’s been building up slowly since the symptoms you received was finally taking full effect now. A few months ago you had made the decision yourself to take away baizhus illness and give it to yourself. You made sure to do it as subtle as possible, taking it piece by piece for the past few months.

You knew the repercussions and what would eventually happen to you if you did so but you did it anyway. Though it was hitting you harder than you’d imagined it would you don’t regret what you’ve done, nor will you ever tell anyone or Baizhu what you’ve done.

You had a knack for wanting to see others get better, that is why you joined the medical field at such a young age. You weren’t blessed by the archons, bestowed a vision like many great people you know, Baizhu and Qiqi included. But you did have a particular gift you were born with. No one but your family and you know of it of course.

You had the ability to take away any injury, cut, gash, wound, flu, or illness away from one person and help them recover or fully heal but the only thing was it would be placed onto you and you’d have to take over what it was that you would heal someone from. A power that your parents referred to as a double edged sword.

They discovered your power when you were only seven years old. Your younger brother had fallen and scraped his knees and was crying nonstop. You felt bad and decided to help patch him up and you put your hand over his wound to stop the small bleeding only to wince in pain as you did so.

Your mother pulled your hand away and inspected your little brother's wound to find it completely gone, no trace of it being there in the first place. Not even a scar left behind. But when she looked at you she saw a small gash upon your knee, just where you little brother had it mere seconds ago. Since then she and your father had forbidden you from using your powers for anything more serious than so. They know what lengths you’d go to just to help others so they were reluctant on letting you go into the medical field but couldn’t stopped you in the end, it’s what made you the happiest after all.

You shakily push yourself off from the door, legs slowly making their way to your desk as you feel too lightheaded to stand upright.

“How has Baizhu been dealing with this all along?” You question yourself as you squeeze your eyes shut.

“Y/n, are you sick too?” Qiqi’s small voice comes from behind you, making you jump in surprise.

“Qiqi!” You look at the small child with wide eyes, your heartbeat loud from suddenly hearing her voice when you didn’t even spot her coming in. “Ah, no sweetie. It’s not that, I’m not sick.” you laugh it off, hoping she didn’t catch you wince when you turn to her feeling your lungs squeeze.

“I’m just uhh sleepy yeah! I’m sleepy!” You smile at her, feeling bad for lying to her but you don’t want her to worry or even worse inform Baizhu of your condition.

“But you were dizzy, like you were in pain.” Qiqis eyebrows furrow making you feel worse, she’s just a kid but she notices the slightest difference in someone’s demeanor . “Y/n Is something the matter? I think I should get Mr Baizhu.” She nods her head content with her decision before you even reply to her and turns on her heels.

“Qiqi wait!” You push yourself off your desk and quietly run around her kneeling down and offering her your best convincing smile before she can open the door. “Sweetie it’s no big deal I promise. Look you can see for yourself I’m doing just fin-“

“But your hands are shaking, you’re also perspiring.” Her small hand makes contact with your forehead and the corners of her mouth turn down making your stomach sink.

Why am I lying to a child? What’s wrong with me? You feel horrible, she’s just concerned and you're lying to her face when she’s just worried about your well being.

“Qiqi listen ok, I’m sorry. I am a bit under the weather today but it’s nothing I can’t handle. I’ll make sure to take things slow ok?” You slowly stand back up giving her small hand a squeeze. Taking a deep breath in to help regulate your breathing.

Her head tilts a bit, eyes narrowing as she tries to see through your lie. Something she's definitely picked up from Baizhu. Her small hand reaches for yours and she gives it a small squeeze.

“Don't overwork yourself, if your symptoms get worse i'll have no choice but to inform Mr Baizhu.” a small frown makes its way onto her mouth and you feel even more bad now.

“Sweetie don't feel like it’s your fault, I know how far I can push myself and when to stop. I really do appreciate your concern. If I feel any worse I will take my leave for the day, ok?” You give her small hand a reassuring squeeze hoping she won't say anything soon, hoping you can mask the pain that shoots through your body with every passing second.

“I have to prepare some antibiotics for a customer in a bit but tell you what, afterwards Baizhu you and I will head out for lunch! I'll buy you coconut milk and we can walk around for a bit afterwards! You can also check up on me then ok.” you see Qiqi’s eyes light up a bit and you feel relief wash over your body. A nice day spent out with them both sounded lovely , hopefully the pain wasn't as excruciating as it usually is later on.

“What’s this? Are you both making plans without me?” Baizhu’s voice comes from behind you, making you jump from where you stood.

“Baizhu! Were you standing there the whole time?!” you ask, feeling your heart drop a bit worried that he heard everything.

“My my, do I seem like someone who'd do such a thing?” he laughs making your frown deepen only making him laugh a bit harder.

“What little trust you have in me dear, we've known each other for far too long, have some faith in me.” he chuckles, stepping in smiling at the sight of you holding qiqi’s hand. His heart squeeze’s in a way he hasn't felt in so long, not one due to pain. Seeing you two puts him at ease makes his worry fade.

“I was just telling Qiqi how I wanted to treat you both to lunch later, after our customer pick’s up their prescription of course!” you clear your throat, hoping he didn't see the look of worry you wore thinking he heard you're sick.

“That sounds lovely y/n, only thing is it'll be my treat. You both deserve it. You both have been working very hard as of late and I need to show my deep appreciation to my two dear helpers now don't I?.”

“Wait that's not fair though I-”

“Ahahah,” he tuts taking slow steps to where Qiqi and you stood. “No need to argue ok.” he smiles down at you both, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I just want to treat you both, I'm just glad you are both still here with me, that we're all here together.” his eyes soften and you feel your heart rate pick up. He looks at peace.

“Baizhu has been feeling better as of late.” Changsheng hisses and Baizhu clears his throat making you and Qiqi laugh.

You knew exactly what Changsheng was talking about but didn't press further. You know exactly why he is and you're happy that he's not in pain, that's how you always want to see him.

“Now Qiqi, please do me a favor and run the front desk for me. Y/n and I have to work on a prescription, we’ll be done in a bit ok?” Baizhu kneels down, hand gently laying upon the small girl's head to which she gives a small nod and wastes no time walking out.

Baizhu sigh’s and stands back up to close the door behind her.

“Now shall we get started?” He chirps turning back to you with a closed eyed smile.

You only nod, walking to your desk to get the herbs and vial’s to mix for the antibiotics you need to finish.

“What’s the patient's diagnosis again?” You ask, bending down my the medicine cabinet in the corner of your room.

“Acute bronchitis.” He hums, leaning on the side of your desk watching your every move.

“Ah ok, so the medication calls for-“

Baizhu pushes himself off as he sees you kneel down, legs slightly shaking as you do so.

“Y/n stand back up for me.” Baizhus voice sounds much closer now making you almost drop the herbs you held in your hands.

“Baizhu-“

You turn to face him and the pain in your chest spikes up from moving too fast. The burn in your lungs and the tightness on your esophagus made your eyes burn in no time.

Your hold on the herbs slips from your hands as you clutch your chest, gasping for air now.

The vials never hit the floor. Before they did Baizhu quickly caught hold of them quickly reaching for you seconds after before your legs could give out.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” Baizhu asks, concern evident in his tone.

“They’re sick.” Changsheng hisses as he slowly kneels to the floor with you.

“N-no im-“ a coughing fit came up seconds after making you clutch your already sore throat. You nod your head frantically at Changshengs accusation.

“Arms up dear, if you can't breathe don't freak out it’ll only make matters worse you know that!” Baizhu gently grabs hold of your arms and lifts them above your head making your eyes widen.

It felt as if it made things worse, you were getting scared. It was getting too hard to breathe let alone concentrate.

“Y/n! No don’t- ah look! Look at me-“ Baizhu’s hands were on both sides of your face getting you to look him in the eyes.

His golden like eyes stare at you with concern as he nods his head in assurance. “I’m here, you’re ok, just breath ok breath with me come on.” He inhales and you try only to feel your throat close up again but Baizhu urges you. His hand rubbing soothing circles on your back while his other one keeps one of your hands over your head.

Again, he inhales and you did so along with him, then a slow and steady exhale and you shakily do the same.

“Good, good, calm down with me, you're ok.” He offers a small smile though he still looks worried.

“I told you, when they walked in today I sensed it.” Changsheng peeks down from Baizhus shoulder, eyes narrowing at you.

“This sickness seems awfully familiar.” The snake comes closer and you feel as if they’re both too close, seeing into you.

“Y/n are you sick? How long has this been going on for?!” Baizhu grabs your wrist, placing two fingers on your wrist to check your racing pulse.

“Not too long.” You inhale sharply, feeling a stabbing sensation on your right lung making you hunch.

“Nono, dear stay up you know you have to.” Baizhus hand rubs your back, straightening your spine as you close your eyes and nod your head.

“Sorry, sorry I know I’ll be fine in a minute.” You exhale, a small laugh coming out hoping to ease the worry that was evident in his eyes.

“Y/n, I’m serious. When did you-“

Another coughing fit comes up making your hands cover your mouth and Baizhu feels his thoughts come to a halt when he sees a dark red substance seep through the cracks between your fingers.

“Baizhu this seems…..awfully familiar.” Changsheng whispers to the already worried man, making him come to a realization that he never thought was possible.

Did they get my sickness? But it isn’t contagious, how would this be? Baizhu thinks to himself, moving your hand from your mouth and placing his handkerchief over your lips wiping excess blood.

“This can't be…” Baizhu whispers and Changsheng slithers up closer to you.

“They’re hiding something Baizhu.” The snake slithers off of Baizhu’s shoulders and onto your lap.

You look at the snake then at baizhu whose eyes are boring into yours, trying to figure out how exactly your conditions seem awfully familiar to the one he has, to the one he had.

“Baizhu it’s nothing.” You give him a small smile, breathing somewhat evening out as you reach your hand to his gently grabbing the handkerchief.

“I just caught a cold, but now your handkerchief is ruined you didn't need to-“

“Did you know?” He whispers, connecting the dots in his head and he fears something he never thought would happen. He truly thought he hid it well, that no one knew except for Changsheng, but how did you get it?

“Know what? Baizhu I don’t understand-“

“This sickness isn’t just a cold or flu, it’s a rare disease that affects very little of the population. This isn’t something that could be contracted.” He reaches for his stethoscope and holds his breath.

“Y/n who have you been around recntl-“

His voice fell upon deaf ears, all you could hear was your heartbeat ringing in your ears.

“Y/n….y/n?” His eyes look back up to meet yours and he drops the stethoscope from his hold.

You look scared, afraid, guilty. Like a deer caught in headlights, like a child caught doing something they weren’t supposed to.

“Did you know about what I had?” His voice comes out small, almost sounding like he was on the brink of tears.

“I-I just…” your vision gets blurred at the look of horror written on his features.

“I couldn’t bare seeing you smile when you were in so much pain, I just wanted to help…. l-let you live freely without hiding something that was tearing you apart, I want to help you like you have helped so many others.” You stutter, voice cracking as you see his eyes brim with unsead tears. His hands reaching for your shaking ones.

He feels time slow down, sees your lips moving but his ears go deaf just as yours had earlier. He never thought you knew. He thought he had his it so well but he was wrong.

He’s always fooled people. Made them belive he was ok, nothing was wrong with him, he was never sick. When deep down he was the one sufferening pain far worse than any of his patients and he never got rest from it. Instead he held his head up high, masked his pain with a smile and people bought it, he thought you had too.

A long life wasn’t something Baizhu had ever seen for himself but when he had greedy thoughts he though of living the rest of his life with none other than Qiqi and you in perfectly harmony, but he knew that wasn’t how the real world was.

But when he had started feeling better a few months back he had hope, a small sliver but some nonetheless. Maybe someday his wish would come true and he could tell you what he’s really felt for so long.

So why are you sick now? Why are you suffering with the same mind numbing, painful sickness he once had? Why you? Not You. This can't be. He thought he hid it so well from you. But the real question that has been running over and over in his head is one he has a hard time saying but he just wants to know, if you knew about his sickness, what lengths have you gone to do this to yourself? How did you do this?

He feels his own hands shake. Even though his sickness is no longer affecting him he feels pain in his heart far worse than any pains he's felt from his illness.

Now it was his breathing that had become uneven. Shaky hands reach for your face to get you to look him in the eye as he tries his best to not let his voice waver.

This can't be real, his thumbs trace the curve of your cheekbones, your skin feels hot to the touch but the sweat on your forehead shows signs of chills. Why has this happened to you of all people? “Y/n.” He calls your name, barely above whisper, his breath hitching when your glossy eyes meet his. He thinks he knows what’s happened, but he just wants to hear you say it. “What have you done?”

_________________

authors note: hello lovelies!\( * ́꒳`*)/ FINALLY WROTE FOR BAIZHU DUUDAISU this has been in my mind FOR AO LONG! This was one i was very excited to write bc pretty dendro healer deserves more attention!! he’s also coming out soon so kind of an early celebration for that hehe! I hope you all enjoy this one left it off on a cliffhanger kind of idk but I had to for the affect heshhshsh SORRY- but! reminder to drink water, eat yummy foods and most importantly stay safe! ^~^<3 (also this isn’t proofread so sorry for any errors!)

[justanamesstuff]

Chapter 1

Seasons

Matty Healy x f!reader

A/N: Hiii guys, I'm so nervous for this BUT very excited too!! I hope you like it <3

Warnings: swearing a bit?, typos maybe.

Word count: 3 K

MASTERLIST TAGLIST

Every season has its colours, has its smells, has its traditions. Like every season, this love has its particularities…

Around November of 2020, England

“Matty- Oh my god!!“ 

The constant banging on her wall and the high-pitched moaning at the other side woke Y/n up. Quickly, she took her pillow and placed it on top of her face, trying to muffle the horrible sounds reaching her ears. ‘God, is she having a good time? Or he’s killing her?’, the thought crossed the girl's mind. 

Most of the time they weren’t that loud, but during that morning they just seemed to not care.

It was useless, the sounds were getting louder and louder. Y/n couldn’t bear with it any more and knowing that even if they –luckily– stopped she wouldn’t come back to sleep. So, Y/n decided to go downstairs. Maybe one of the guys was making breakfast, which would help with the awful start of her day.

Her prayers weren’t heard. The kitchen was empty and no breakfast was made. She tried to cheer up a little, because Y/n needed to survive the day. To be honest, every day and morning it was getting harder and harder.

After a quiet but long sigh, Y/n started cooking for everyone. Nothing unusual since she tried to do it most of the mornings in exchange for their generosity letting her stay at the boys' studio –which was half Matty’s house as well. Spending the quarantine rent-free with them, listening how they recorded the new album and messing around was a true blessing if she tried to focus on the bright side of everything. 

Well, they kind of forced her because they were very against Y/n spending those months alone in her flat. The boys cared about the girl as a best friend and as a sister too. They were a bunch of drama queens most of the time, but deep down Y/n was enormously grateful with/for them.

Thinking about the first months, Y/n couldn’t deny those were amazing. The entire group spent a lot of quality time, doing the stupidest challenges, doing Instagram lives for the fans, watching a lot of movies, etc. Although everything took a turn when another person joined the party. When Nadia arrived.

It wasn’t like Y/n hated her, in fact, it was the opposite which created a big dilemma for her. Matty’s girlfriend was nice and the idea of having another girl was actually  comforting during the tough times. But Y/n wasn’t so fond of the situation for other reasons.

For a period –a very long one– if you asked her, she endured with it and put on her best –fake– happy face. Y/n’s acting talents were very handy at times. Although, her true feelings were still there, underneath the surface, where no one can notice them. Specially Matty.

 Time went by and the whole thing was making her more anxious, and although the idea of leaving crippled into her mind at every minute, she couldn’t really decide. Y/n didn’t want to leave but watching Matty 24/7 attached to the other girl’s side was taking the best of her mental health.

Y/n’s mind was running fast with thoughts while she cooked, which made her subconsciously ignore the tall man coming down after he heard movement downstairs. George watched his friend move around, knowing more than anyone in the house about her sorrows. George was probably the closest to her out of the four guys. He was the only one who knew all of her secrets and kept it secured as if it was his own.

The drummer stared at her, expecting for Y/n to notice him, but he acknowledged that the girl was in another dimension. She used to do that more than she liked to admit. George could bet ‘the morning moaning festival’ taking place half an hour prior was the main reason.

Y/n finished cooking a big amount of scrambled eggs and turned searching for a plate when she saw George standing in the partially lighted corridor. “Fuck G! You scared the shit out of me!” she exclaimed while resting a hand on her chest.

“Sorry!” the big man shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t mean to scare you, love.” he apologized, approaching his best friend. “Good morning.” he greeted her properly, and she huffed.

“Good morning to you.” Y/n answered sarcastically after G placed a kiss on top of her head. 

“So, you heard, huh?”

“I can’t stand it any more, G.” she let him know. “It’s just a lot.” she continued, lowering her voice scared another of the boys could hear her.

“I know, love.” the drummer said with an apologetic expression. “But the lockdown is nearly over, and y’know none of us would like you to go.” G said as he searched for mugs.

“Why not? It’s my life, my freedom!” Y/n protested, starting to get annoyed. “It’s getting worse every day…” Y/n desperately moved her hands in the air trying to prove her point.

“Believe me… I know!” George searched for her eyes, keeping eye contact when Y/n looked back at him, waiting for his next words. “I’m not in your…situation, but I’m getting a little annoyed too.” G agreed with her.

“Yes, but it’s his house. He can do whatever he wants…”

“I half agree.” G nodded. “This might be his house, but it’s the place we choose as a studio, so for the time being its our place too…yours too!” George continued rambling, filling the mugs with hot water. “So, they need to stop with the noises.”

A comfortable silence fell between them until Y/n broke it again thinking out loud.

“What the hell can I do?” 

“About what?” A third voice came from the hallway. Matty made his entrance wearing a tired expression matching his gray sweatpants and plain shirt. He approached Y/n, leaving her a kiss on her right cheek. “What can you do about what, love?” he rephrased his question. 

“I- It’s nothing — Morning” she said without looking at him, instead walking towards the table bringing a mug with her.

“There must be something. You sounded worried.” Matty insisted.

“It’s something between Y/n and I, mate.” George said in a joking way, trying to distract him. “Something between best pals, you wouldn’t understand it.” he stated, rounding Y/n with his left arm meanwhile he winked at Matty taking a sip of his morning tea.

“Fuck off!” Matty protested. They usually have a competition about the title which Y/n find equally lame and cute. She easily felt the tension leaving her shoulders, relaxing thanks to their stupid discussion, knowing that for now Matty dropped his interrogation.

“Tell him, darling!” G urged her.

“It’s too early for this fight. Shut up and sit. I’ll bring the cutlery.” Y/n said, detaching herself from George. 

“Y/n is just too nice to tell ya, mate. She loves me more.” the singer continued joking, obviously unaware of the real implication of his words.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Matty.” George answered, sitting at his usual spot at the table.

“Who was the beautiful soul that made breakfast?” Ross entered the kitchen and stopped in his tracks, closing his eyes and inhaling dramatically.

“You know the answer.” John teased as he appeared from behind Ross. “You know you don’t have to, Y/n.” the musician approached her and helped with the forks and knives.

“Yes, for the hundred times…I know, John.” she looked at him. “But we all know that I would feel guilty since you all never let me pay for anything.”

“Because you don’t have to pay us, love.” Matty said from his place at the table with his sight fixed on his phone. He and the damn nicknames.

“But- “

“No but’s, Y/n. We’re happy to have you here!” Ross said as they all sat around the table.

They were serving breakfast when the conversation took another direction -something about the coronavirus and all of that. At the same time, the last resident of the house made her entrance.

Y/n sometimes envied her. Matty’s girlfriend always looked immaculate to a point that you could never think she just woke up. Y/n knew comparisons were wrong, but it was hard to avoid them. The girl felt awful: her hair was all tangled in a messy bun on the top of her head; only wearing an old t-shirt -from a not so famous band--and a pair of pyjamas short; and she was not wearing any makeup meanwhile she stuffed her breakfast on her face.

Nadia was all classy and perfect, the opposite of Y/n. Maybe that’s why he chose her and not his best friend. Y/n knew thinking like that was also wrong, yet again she couldn’t help it.

Y/n witnessed how Nadia greeted everyone and sat beside Matty, flashing him a cute smile he returned. They were in love, and it was obvious to everyone. Y/n was so happy for her best friend to find someone who loved him, although for many years she hoped that person would be her. For years, Y/n hoped Matty noticed her more than a mate.

When they first met, Y/n thought she felt a connection different from with anyone else in her life, although that changed quickly. Matty proved to her time and time again he didn’t want a relationship with her or nothing similar no matter how flirty he was during that first night. And Y/n forced herself her mind and heart to believe it.

Y/n was very unaware that, at the time she met the boys, Matty felt the same way she felt, but the old Matty didn’t want to lose the new friend he encountered. As another way to self sabotage himself, the young Matty did almost the impossible to show Y/n they were friends and just friends. A decision he took while being drunk became a life rule.

Since that moment, since that night, their relationship was kind of determinate. They were friends, the best friends. Not that night, but after a while, Y/n became part of the family and even Matty’s family –both sides– loved her as another member of their family. Y/n felt safe and loved, something she cherished so much since she hadn’t had that kind of love back home. Her family wasn’t like them, the opposite in fact.

For the longest time, Y/n tried to ditch her feeling for Matty. Every time a new girl showed up, tugged under his arm, Y/n decided it was the time to stop getting hurt and move on. Even though, her heart couldn’t do it. It hurt her. And with Nadia was the hardest since all of them could notice it was different, more mature…more serious. Nadia was more than a random girl for Matty and everyone was sure of that.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Matty interrupted Y/n’s inner monologue, staring at her, while his right arm was around Nadia.

“What?” Y/n answered, coming down to earth, with a question. 

“You were gone.” everyone was strangely in silence while they looked at each other.

“I was just thinking about the government lifting the restrictions. Meaning, now I can go home.” she half lied, while messing with the leftovers of her breakfast. Y/n did chat about it with G that morning anyway, and it was a reality Y/n needed to get away from the lovers for a time.

“I told her, none of us want that.” George interrupted their conversation.

“Of course not.” Jaime, who joined the breakfast table, said to her.

“I know, guys. But it’s been almost four months and I- This is not my- “

“Don’t finish that sentence.” Matty warned her, and she looked him directly in the eyes.

“It’s the truth, Matty.” she said, dropping her fork on the plate.

“It’s not, this is your house too, Y/n/n.” Ross, sweet Ross, reminded her. “At the same time, if you want to go back to your flat, I understand. We’ll miss your meals.” his comment made everyone chucked, except Matty who was studying every one of her movements. 

A weak smile was plastered on her face while she stared down towards her plate unable to make eye contact with Matty. “Don’t get me wrong. I love being here with you guys, but I need my space.”

“If this is about some couple…” Jaime looked at Matty and Nadia “Waking up the whole house.” he finished the sentenced winking like a cartoon.

“For fuck's sake.” Matty swore under his breath. “Is it about that?” he looked at Y/n.

“‘Course not!” she looked at him trying her hardest to hide her feelings.

“I wouldn’t blame you if that’s the reason. I’m sleeping on the other side of the house and I can listen to them. You’re right beside Matty’s room!” John emphatically said.

Before Matty could say a word, Y/n exclaimed, “It’s not about that, okay?” she simply lied. 

Y/n could sense George staring at her. “It’s what I said, I need my space, and it’s not like I’m going to disappear.” another white lie. Y/n was planning to do exactly that for a while until her wounds healed again. “You’ll still have to bear with me.” she finished her little speech.

“We can simply send the couple to your flat, and you can stay here in peace” Ross joked this time. All of them except for Matty laughed again.

“Stop with that, he will get angry.” Y/n defended Matty.

“I know it’s not my house either,” Nadia started saying. “If I can say something, I would like you to stay, Y/n.” she continued rather shyly. “It’s nice to have a girl around.” Of course, she was so nice. “I promised we’ll keep it down.” she looked quickly at Matty for reassurance and then again at her.

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry you’ll have to survive with these boys, but I really need to go.” Y/n explained. “Another reason is the fact that I have to prepare to get back to work soon.”

“So, when did you start thinking about leaving? Since you apparently have a lot of reasons to leave.” Matty said with a strange expression on his face.

“Matty-”

“Are you that eager to leave?” ‘He was pissed?’, Y/n thought. 

“Matty- “she protested, not knowing what else to say.  

“No, it’s okay. I get it! You want to leave, it’s okay.” he stood up from his seat gathering the plates to wash them.

“Matty!” Y/n said again.

“It’s fine, Y/n!” he said more sternly, obviously not fine with the situation. 

The rest of the group –included Nadia–, took that as a cue to leave the friends so they could talk. They made stupid excuses, leaving Matty and Y/n alone in the kitchen.

Matty went to the sink, beginning to wash the dishes. After letting a big breath out, Y/n stood up approaching where he was standing.

“Why are you so angry?” she asked him, folding her arms, standing beside Matty looking at his profile. Matty was stroking the plates with more force than needed for the task in hand.

“I’m not. I said that I got it, and it’s fine.” he answered.

“You’re obviously not fine, Matthew.”

“Do you want to know how am I? Perfect.” he stated, turning the water off and drying his hand with a cloth while he turned to look at her. “I really don’t get it why you want to leave so suddenly.”

“It’s not that I want to- “another big lie. She wanted to, she needed to.

“Bullshit!”

Y/n tried to defend herself, “I’m not going to disappear…”

“Bullshit!”

“Can you stop that?” Y/n stood directly in front of Matty. 

“I know you’re going to disappear. I know you. We’re best friends and something is bothering you, I can tell. It hurts that you’re not telling me anything and I fucking bet you told George already.” She couldn’t tell him the truth.

“Is this more about that competition?” Y/n tried to distract him.

“Yes- No- Of course, not- This is about you and me.” Matty said, melting her heart a little. He was obviously troubled with the idea of Y/n leaving.

“Matty, there is nothing…mayor going on. Trust me. I need silence. You said it, you know me. I crave my space…alone.” she told him sweeter this time.

“Yes, I know. But you can find somewhere here-“

“You know that’s a lie.” ‘What a hypocrite I am’, Y/n thought. 

“I know.”

“You aren’t gonna miss me. You have the boy and Nadia- “she moved uncomfortably in her place.

“It’s not the same, you’re my best friend. I’ll miss you, darling.” Matty looked at her with his best doggy eyes.

“Don’t!” Y/n pointed a finger at him.

“What?” he played dumb.

“Don’t give me puppy eyes, it won’t work.” she smiled this time.

“Shit, are you so certain about it?” he looked down, defeated.

“Yes.” Y/n simply said.

“Okay, I understand. You can go.”

“Thanks for your permission that I didn’t ask for.” Y/n tried to joke.

“But- “ he ignored her.

“But?”

“But promise me that you are not going to disappear for too long.” he said, staring directly into her eyes.

“I promise.” Y/n said way too quickly. After a couple of seconds, she had to look elsewhere.

“Can we hug?” he said very slowly. 

Y/n chuckled, placing her arms around his shoulders, at the same time Matty placed his on her waist.

“I love you.” Matty mumbled on her left shoulder.

“I love you too, Matty.” Y/n said, feeling it from the deepest of her heart. There lied the difference. 

Maybe, she couldn’t love anyone like she loved Matty, even though she had to try for the good of their relationship. 

-------------------------------------------------

Taglist: @hollybrislen

[hauntedhokage]

salvation

Priest!Nanami Kento/F!Reader

word count: 2k

summary: you’ve been avoiding the church, the weight of your unabsolved sins sits heavy on your shoulders, and you know that he knows. he could always see right through you.

warnings: MDNI, priest kink, blasphemy up the ass, references to sexual content (sex in a church and unprotected sex), unintended use of a rosary & prayer, manipulation, Nanami refers to reader as “lamb” and “little one”, this is not their first meeting, established…something, reader is some kind of devout to Nanami and not necessarily to the religion itself at this point,

note: this is heavily inspired by my experience in church (read: very catholic), but I was also trying to lean more into my own vision of  “cult-religion” while not explicitly naming any particular religion that reader and Nanami are failing at practicing. Technically this is act iii but idk if I’ll write the acts i & ii that are in mind. 

AO3 | Nanami Masterlist | All Masterlists | Ko-fi |

You’d been avoiding the church. 

Always conveniently scheduled to work during the different scheduled mass times, and the one time you hadn’t been working you’d faked sick. Faking sick again wasn’t an option, as you were still working through the various meals that were brought your way to help you feel better and didn’t need any additional tupperware to wash and return to your neighbors. Your boss hadn’t scheduled you during Mass in a while, stating that he knew how much going meant to you and now that business was a bit slower he could afford to give you that time back. Everyone wanted you back in that church, sharing the house of worship and the teachings being preached because they all felt you needed it. 

What it provided, you didn’t know. It used to feel natural to be there, enlightening even. Confessional once lifted the weight of your transgressions and had you feeling lighter with the knowledge that your path had been redirected. The reassurance that the gates of heaven had not yet been shut to you, the feeling of light that came when you were told that you were still part of His flock, safe from the fiery darkness of hell - nothing topped that feeling. 

But it wasn’t that you were avoiding the church. 

You were hiding from Father Kento. 

He knew you better than anybody else did at this point, and you hadn’t known him long. It had been maybe six months since he’d come to replace the older priest who had passed away, and how quickly he’d drawn you in - like a moth to his flame and you were trying to avoid getting burnt. He was a priest, after all, even if everything you knew about him went against your understanding of what priests actually did. But maybe that was what you liked about him? Father Kento to you was a completely different man than he was to anybody else, you knew him better because you’d been blessed with the opportunity to see more of him. He’d taken “priestly liberties” to see to your salvation, took special care of you as his most precious lamb, and this was how you repaid him and his kindness? Avoiding he who had given so much to you?

“You look troubled, little lamb.”

And there he was. Always there when you seemed to be thinking about him the most, only in the last few weeks you’d turned away when you saw him at the market or on your way to or from work. Today, though, there is no avoiding him for he’s standing right in front of you. A gentle hand on your elbow (to steady you, would be his cover for a touch so intimate), eyes looking right through you it seemed. 

“Good evening, Father,” you greet, smile soft yet still uncertain as you meet that piercing gaze. “How are you?”

“I’ve been worried about you, but I’m well.” There it was, so quickly to the point yet still managing to be indirect given the public setting that was the middle of the sidewalk. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright. Busy, then-”

“Then you weren’t well, yes?”

“That’s where I need to confess.” Your admission earns a quirked brow, the ghost of a smile gracing his features under the streetlight as he gives your arm a squeeze. 

“Would you like to come with me to the church? Somewhere private where we can talk and hopefully provide some solace to that troubled mind.” 

Another act of familiarity, this time his thumb gently running up from the bridge of your nose and between your eyes to smooth out your furrowed brow. A gentle pat to the top of your head follows when you nod, and that has him smiling as he gives a nod of his own before turning to lead you back towards the church. During the walk you tell him about your day, how work was and sharing a fun fact you’d learned that day. In turn he tells you what he can about his, out of interest to respect the private lives of others in the parish. It’s natural, nobody would assume any less than holy intentions to see you being guided down the sidewalk by Father Kento. 

But as soon as you’re inside the walls of the church, the loud click ringing through your ears signaling that you were alone with him and would see no intrusion, you feel almost like a lamb being presented for sacrifice. 

He follows you to where you usually sat shen it was just the two of you in the large building, on the steps in front of the pews, beneath the stained glass but out of its reach when the light shone through at most hours of the day. He does what he always did, dimming the lights before lighting the candles that would provide more intimate lighting for the conversations yet to come.

Father Kento always made you feel special. 

“Where’ve you been, little one? I miss seeing you front and center at mass.”

That was where you were nervous. To tell him what was on your mind, as well as the things that you’d been doing in lieu of attending church and confession, wasn’t going to be easy. He’d be disappointed, and you think for a moment that maybe that’s what you were hiding from. Not Father Kento himself, but the disappointed look in his eyes when you confessed to him that you failed to resist temptation - failed to come to him for protection from that temptation. 

But you tell him anyway, sparing no detail as you know the only way to be absolved of your sins was to confess them. He does an excellent job of keeping his face neutral, hands idly turning his rosary as he listens, and that helps you to ensure that you maintain that honesty. You knew it would hurt him to hear that you’d let another man touch you, that you were hiding from his disappointment, that you were afraid of being a distraction from his work. By the time you’re done your own hands are in his, wrapped in his rosary which eased their shakiness and brought a great deal of comfort.

“I’m sorry that you felt that you couldn’t find sanctuary here,” he murmurs, carefully pressing his forehead to yours. “You should know that I would never judge, and am always here to help you cleanse your sins.”

“I know, I know,” you whisper, looking down at your joined hands. The crystal beads don’t feel as heavy on your skin as they had when he’d started to bring them around your skin, which helps considerably but doesn’t completely relieve you. “I’m sorry, Father, sorry that my faith in you became so weak.”

“God forgave you as soon as you entered his House.”

“But have you forgiven me, Father?” The question brings him pause, and you know why it would. In his eyes, God’s forgiveness should be most important to you, and if God can forgive why would you need to hear anything else? He liked to tease that you were constantly testing him, but this wasn’t a test. This was how you truly felt, and you feared his reaction but you still finish your thought to improve his understanding of your situation. “God’s love means nothing if I don’t have yours.”

“My love for you has not waned in your absence. You are forgiven for your transgressions, my lamb, and I would like to reassure you in that forgiveness.”

You’re kissing him before you can properly process the implication of his words, knowing that what you needed was the specific brand of salvation that only came from Father Kento’s touch. His hands pull from yours, leaving the rosary to hang from your hands as his come to hold your cheeks. Father Kento’s kiss was as he was; calculated and warm, knowing exactly what he needed to do or how he needed to move to maximize your experience in his arms. 

“Please do not drop my rosary, sweet lamb,” he mumbles, lips moving to your neck while his hands work to position you on his lap. “It’s key to your salvation this evening.”

Your attempt at assurance that you’d never drop his rosary - or anything of his, really - is cut off by a whine when sharp teeth dig into your shoulder. A signal to God, he’d said once, to let him know that you’d bled for your faith and did so willingly. You have to separate your hands so he can pull your shirt over your head, and he pulls the cross that now dangles against your forearm into his mouth as he looks up at you through his lashes. Perhaps it's a reminder to be careful, a reminder of where your faith should lie, but you take it as an invitation and press your mouth to his in an open kiss around the quickly warming metal.

“I have to properly present you to God, little lamb. Ensure that he can properly see you embrace your salvation.” And you know exactly what he means as you finally pull yourself from him, letting the spit slick rosary fall against your arm once more before you stand on shaky legs. You needed to bare yourself before God and the Father, present yourself at the altar to accept your salvation. Akin to taking the sacrament, but this brand of salvation was reserved specifically for you - for Father Kento’s favorite little lamb. 

There's a symbolism here that you can’t miss as he lifts you onto the altar - the focal point of the church beneath the intricate stained glass windows depicting images of peace and holiness.

The lamb presented for sacrifice as she’s laid atop the altar, but there’s no knife in his hand. Even if there was, you would only feel reverence for the man standing before you - the man you trusted with your life. You were his little lamb, his favorite within the flock to be used as an example but never to be harmed. If you were ever sacrificed; you’d be reincarnated to once again be his favorite, he’d said it himself that in every instance of your shared existence that he knew he would always find you. The shepherd tends to the flock, always, and a lost lamb would find her way home to the shepherd who loved her so dearly.  

“Are you ready to embrace salvation?”

“Please, Father.” Your hand searches for him, something that you can hold onto when you feel his tip slide through your folds. His hand catches yours, the tight grip pressing the rosary beads into the tender flesh of your palm to the point where you know you’ll see indentations from the intricate bead and metalwork decorating your skin. Another reminder of your repentance to join the soft bruises on your hips, markings on your shoulder, and the remnants of Father Kento’s holy essence that would be left inside you once he’d finished. 

You were far from pure, but so was he. Figuring out where he lost any hope of the salvation he preached would take months of carefully placed questions, but you knew when you’d lost your own. He was unassuming, a kind priest who followed the path lit by God’s light, but at the same time all consuming as he ravaged you from the inside out. Your road to hell had not been paved with good intentions, as he’d intended on dragging you down with him on his own road to damnation. 

But Hell didn’t seem so bad to you if it would be his, too.  

Despite it all, you’d follow him anywhere, if he asked you to go. It wasn’t any god that you prayed to when referring to a Father in your prayers, for Kento was the only Father you prayed to. Your heavenly father, and you know that you will not stray far from his side again. 

You knew better than to hurt yourself like that again.