#while i throw myself back into the void

[seventh-district]

it’s finally getting cold enough that i can bring my cardigan collection back into rotation without feeling like i’m gonna melt into a puddle the second i step outside!!!

[moonbaby26]

Title: Blood and Feathers

*Crossposted to AO3 Here*

Pairing: Rosinante/Corazon x Fem!Reader x Doflamingo

Warnings: language, non con, dub con, size difference, reader is cheated on (not by the brothers), reader is stalked/abducted, reader is double teamed, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, animal instincts/behaviors, blood, violence, toxic relationships, breeding kink

Synopsis: Set in a modern!AU. You are an avian veterinarian dealing with a recent life upheaval. Years ago, you also had a traumatic experience with creatures mainstream science still denies as even existing. But memories of that night were soon buried, relegated to your dreams alone. Or so you had thought.

A/N: This oneshot was inspired both by @tuquidflamingo‘s gorgeous Harpy!Doffy fanart for Doffytober2024 Day 24:Mythical Here, and @froggiewrites’s terrifyingly sexy Siren!Doffy fic Mating Call Here. I needed more bird!Donquixotes after seeing those works and could not restrain myself. This was originally intended as monster/horror themed for Halloween as well, but I’m way late to the party (as usual 😅).

Fic Masterlist

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“You poor darling. The boys haven’t been very nice to you have they?” You frowned to your newest patient. A female dove, slightly fearful in your grip as you held her gently from behind in a small towel within your hand.

The hallmarks of overbreeding were evident to you in all the missing feathers near the back of her head. 

Some single minded Lotharios within her previous enclosure had plucked her practically raw while doing their overeager business on her from behind no doubt.

“Remember. Men are all the same, sweetheart. They only care about one thing.” You mumbled, not particularly worried of how bitter you still sounded while you felt her chest and keel bone next. That bone’s prominence signaling her being rather underweight to your additional concern. 

Not that you’d been eating much either, or maintaining a healthy mindstate at all. Just like hers, your life had also gone quite to shit recently.

Just two days ago you’d come home early, only to find your boyfriend of the last few years balls deep and moaning within the newest assistant from his law office.

And you’d thought he really was going to have a heart attack when he’d finally seen you standing there.

But his new young lover had only smiled, cool as anything.

“Oops.” She’d said, still on top of your fiancé and almost sweetly staring over her shoulder at you.

Her long fingernails had left trails of raised scratches all over his chest and sides. Which you’d seen so distinctly as he’d sat up in a panic to plea to you.

Of course, there would have been no way he could have hidden that evidence later even if you hadn’t caught them in the act. 

As you’d dragged suitcases out and begun throwing what you could into them, he’d had the gall to swear to you too that it was both his first and last time with her. 

He’d even tried to blame her, as if he’d had no say in it all.

But you’d just taken your engagement ring off and thrown it so hard it’d ricocheted off of the wall and rolled to God knew where.

To whatever void your trust and self confidence had now plummeted into most likely.

Yet the apartment lease had only been in his name. So in just that single afternoon, you’d gone from daydreams of a winter wedding to officially homeless and with mascara running down both sides of your face. All with strangers staring at you on your march of shame back through the parking garage.

You didn’t even tell anyone afterward. Because you’d had no one close enough to you to tell.

You were living out of a hotel room now. Nowhere to land as of yet as you’d still went to your normal veterinary job uptown during the day. And to this volunteer time at the avian rehab center just outside of the city each night. 

The only consistently listening ears for you now were sick and troubled birds. Either domestic seizures from hoarding and animal cruelty cases like this dove, or sometimes just wild raptors and waterfowl that’d had an acute turn of bad luck.

You’d seen it all at one point or another. But every day was different. And yet only more of the same all at once.

Until tonight, when it absolutely wasn’t.

You were here alone. Staying much later than you normally would, because the company of the birds was still better than hearing your neighbors arguing through those thin hotel walls that were now all you had to go back to.

Besides this dove’s occasional cooing, and your own words of continued self pity, you also had a constant rotation of true crime podcasts, murder mysteries, and tales of the supernatural droning on from your phone still on the counter. 

It was very fitting for a rainy, cold night like this one.

And in a bit of a playful holiday segment in between those longer tales, it was then some of those two sentence horror stories.  

The narrator had just read one of your favorites in their best Vincent Price impersonation. 

“The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. 

There was a knock on the door.”

You smirked of course. Your imagination flooding with all that unnamed man’s possible fates and an idea that he may actually deserve them now, before the lights abruptly went out above you.

Both you and the dove had startled with that plunge into darkness. But under the dim glow of the battery backup lights which came on after, around the fire exit signs, you quickly silenced those additional horror teases from your phone.

“Maybe they missed a power bill again.” You’d told the dove softly as you’d returned her to the temporary holding cages. 

Funding was always tight for a non profit like this. People just weren’t as giving when sick vultures and irritable corvids didn’t end up as marketable as sad kittens on the donation commercials.

But, this could also be the universe’s sign for you to give in and go home.

Wherever the hell home was supposed to be now.

You’d pulled your exam gloves inside out, trashing them before washing and drying your hands.

A coat, purse, and umbrella were all you had to gather before walking into that now near pitch black hallway.

There was only the slight squeak of your shoes on the linoleum floor for those few precious seconds of normalcy you’d had left. 

And then came the first metal bang.

Like a knock.

And the next one which followed it. 

Echoing through the darkness before you.

Something heavy and urgent was slamming against the metal door which led to the rear parking lot.

The parking lot that backed up to the woods. Where your car and thereby only way back to the city now was.

Even then, the logic in you still refused to fully slip however. Though your heart did beat far faster in your confusion.

You could hear many birds beginning to rustle in their cages in other rooms, bothered by the new noises as well.

You wanted to comfort them, but you knew they wouldn’t understand.

Did you even understand?

You still had your phone of course. You could call the police and just wait here, locked inside if you were actually that afraid.

But outside of the city limits like this, response time would be awful unless you’d be lucky enough that a random patrol car may be nearby.

You didn’t want some judgmental cop showing up thirty minutes from now, to look at you like you were a complete idiot if you said just being in the dark with strange noises was enough to have you needing rescue.

Your hand was already in your purse though, fingers around the beveled case of your phone as everything went silent again.

And then you heard the door pull open.

That door was an exit only. If another volunteer had forgotten something or come back this late for any other reason, they’d have taken the side path up to the front and unlocked the front door instead just as you had a couple of hours ago.

There was no key to the back door. It was always locked on the outside.

Unless the latch had just been broken off.

Which would explain the banging.

Your heart was moving into your throat by then as you’d sidestepped into the nearest room in the dark.

It was this facility’s single operating room.

And by some grace above you didn’t run into anything. You squatted with your back to the wall as you fumbled to pull your phone fully from your purse.

You couldn’t remember if the emergency dispatch in this area was setup to accept text messages like they could in the city.

If you spoke into this silence to call someone, it’d be the equivalent to screaming though.

Your hands were shaking as you typed instead.

And it was additionally cruel really.

Because your mind hadn’t yet overwritten years worth of habit, even as much as he’d hurt you.

You found yourself texting your ex.

<break in. call police. the rehab. help>

Your fingers moved faster than you thought you’d ever commanded them to then. You’d hit send and watched as that message changed to delivered.

And then…

You heard that stupid trill of his phone from the hallway. 

That custom alert you’d heard far too many times to count as his phone had always gone off at all hours from important clients in the duration you’d been together.

Your brain stuttered.

And you heard a female’s laugh.

“Oh, that is embarrassing…” Said the somehow familiar female voice. It was equal parts amusement and mockery now. “She’s still here alright.”

And then a man whose voice you did not recognize, called your name outright before you could think any further. “Please, (Y/N)…there’s no reason to make this harder than it has to be. Please just come out. We’re not going to hurt you.”

But the woman quickly disagreed with him. “No. He said we could do this however we needed to. We’d still be outside in the rain if it was all up to you.”

“Be silent. I’m trying to listen.” The man retorted, yet with his voice lowering to match her own irritation.

“Hmm…no. Not needed. I already smell her.” Came her even sharper response after just another moment. 

And you heard something clicking on the tile at that, faster than you could believe as it ran closer.

“Monet!” The male voice was right behind it though, dropping into a range more akin to a snarl before a shadow came bursting through that open operating room door towards you.

You knew her name.

In the emergency lighting you only had a moment to see a glimpse of her once beautiful face too, contorted into a ferocity more akin to a rabid animal before she lunged down to meet you at your still crouched position. 

Her slender hand had closed around your airway as if it were all second nature.

Fingernails too sharp to be real dug in as she forced your back onto the ground.

You were choking. And staring up into the now wild eyes of your ex-fiancé’s young assistant.

Monet.

The girl he’d fucked right in front of you just two days ago.

But then she was gone. Swatted away as if she were nothing in one audible hit.

Your throat was still stinging, scratched but not wholly cut as you tried to sit up in a renewed rush of adrenaline.

“Just take her car and go goddammit! You’re going to tear this place apart if you can’t control yourself! This is exactly why I wanted you to wait outside!” That male voice now had a clear source as well. He stood easily over the both of you. Still with his hand that had struck her splayed out like a claw.

What had to be light blond hair hung messily in his angry eyes as he took your purse and threw it at her.

“Take her car back to her hotel! Keep her phone, and make sure she didn’t call anyone!”

It was like he was scolding a child now, as if she had already been told a thousand times how this all should be.

But she was panting, smiling at him even as she did.

“I just want a taste…for all of our trouble.” She breathed.

And he stepped further between the two of you.

“I said no.”

She hissed through her teeth, but you saw him straighten up in response. His lean body seeming to tighten even more in the dark.

“Go!” And that order was truly a snarl from him that time.

Her eyes widened and she clawed the floor, briefly on all fours before scurrying back up. 

You could not see her feet clearly in the shadows, but you heard them.

That same clicking sound that had come from the hall before she’d run in.

Like talons moving across the ground.

You didn’t realize how much you were still shaking either before that man’s rock solid grip had grabbed you next.

You were pulled up by your arm.

And Monet was already gone with your purse, meaning she had your keys and phone as well.

She’d had your ex’s phone too.

Was he even alive any longer?

A sound of desperation left you as this tall man forced you down the hall and to that exit door they’d first broken in through.

You’d known it all had to be purposeful then. 

When the power had been cut, the two outdoor security cameras would have gone down as well.

No one would ever see him dragging you out of this door and into the rainy night.

They’d likely waste days interviewing people at the hotel instead once Monet returned your car there.

People you’d never even made eye contact with long enough for them to remember your face would just shrug and say they hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

No one would ever find your body.

“Walk.” His voice was still harsh as he’d hurried you outside, across the parking lot, and immediately down a muddied path into the woods.

It wasn’t clear which direction he’d even taken you in after just a few minutes.

In the dark, the trails all looked the same. And you could only watch as his clothes hung on him, dripping in the light rain.

The forest had gone silent save for that rain and the two of you. As all animals often quieted when an apex predator moved through.

He was oddly barefoot too, striding across the wet and fallen leaves. Just in pants and a t-shirt which now stuck across his broad chest.

“You really don’t remember me at all, do you?” He asked suddenly.

And you were still floundering mentally, trying to keep up with his long legs in the darkness.

“My real name is Rosinante.” He said in lack of any answer from you though. “We’ve met before.” And his large hand squeezed your arm tighter. 

He sounded like his frustration was only growing. His next words were especially accusatory. “If I’d had any idea you were still this close to the mountains…why didn’t you leave?”

His grip hurt, and you were stumbling often now, just trying to keep up.

“I don’t…I don’t know what you want.” You stammered, sounding so pathetic that it easily could have been a stranger’s voice in your ears then.

“I didn’t want him to find you!” He shot back. And at last his relentless pace began to slow. “I thought you moved away! Why the hell would you come back here!?”

And only then was something finally beginning to click within your memories. 

Because it was that desperation in his voice. 

Even if that tone was so much deeper now than the boy’s it reminded you of.

“…Cora?” You asked, your eyes wide while you stared up at this frightening man.

But he looked like something had just broken within him as you’d called him that. He’d stopped walking entirely, and you saw the true pain which crossed his face.

A lean, handsome face, with messy blond hair and rainwater dripping down in a way that could have easily been mistaken for tears.

Tears just like the young blond you’d found crying alone in the forest one summer.

The teen who’d said he didn’t know what to do any longer. And that he’d missed his parents so much and he just couldn’t keep pretending.

You’d thought he was a runaway. But he’d seemed so close to your own age, you hadn’t ratted him out to your aunt and cousins you’d been staying with in the mountain cabin that summer.

You’d snuck him food instead, and for those few months that summer break, you had hiked out to visit him every day at your and his secret rendezvous spot.

Eventually he’d said you could call him Corazon, or Cora for short. It meant “heart” in Spanish. The native language from wherever he had really fled from. And a nickname his late mother had given him.

Her little heart.

But he had a big one. Because he was so kind to you. Something you hadn’t been used to. And you’d both loved exploring and talking together for hours on end.

He’d even taught you a special whistle and song he’d said had also come from his mother and original home.

And so often at night you would hear that sound as you’d snuck from your bedroom to see him over and over again.

He’d known you loved birds by then. That you had dreams of going to school to learn more to help as many of them as you could someday.

But when you’d follow that special sound to find him at night, he’d also point right to where any owl or other raptor you’d missed during the day was hiding that he had found. 

Just so that you could see them too.

But near the end of that summer, you’d told him you’d have to be going back to the city soon. School would be starting again. You hadn’t finished high school yet. But you’d definitely come back next summer before going to college. You’d promised him that.

He’d seemed so sad regardless though, and that had hurt you too.

He’d even disappeared for a few days. You had gotten worried.

But on one of those last nights, you’d heard that special sound again.

So of course you had rushed to it.

But Corazon hadn’t been there.

A laugh had come from above you instead in the darkness.

One you could never forget just before you’d thought part of a tree had somehow fallen down on you.

Because your breath had been gone, a heavy weight impacting your chest with a crack of your ribs.

You couldn’t even scream. The splayed claws that had first struck your chest, had then spread for thin legs to straddle you as your back had hit the dirt.

And then it had bitten you.

Straight through your shirt and over the top of your shoulder. 

Your arms had come up uselessly as those fangs had sunken in.

Yet one of your hands had raked against thick, soft feathers, while the other had caught into spiked blond hair.

Utterly nonsensical in those contrasting parts between human and animal as its wings had encircled you.

But the creature had groaned at your every touch. With its long tongue then lapping at your blood running from the flesh it had broken.   

All while bony hips in torn capris pants had begun to move purposefully against your pajamas.

You hadn’t known what to do. 

You’d just remembered feeling warm.

But so afraid.

And confused.

And then a furious screech like no bird you had ever heard, came diving down like retribution from the sky. 

Loud enough that your attacker had had to look upward. His young face framed in your blood within the moonlight while he’d grinned to the heavens.

He’d been terrifying.

He’d also been beautiful.

But the two monsters had collided. Wings had scraped the ground, flapping violently while talons had tangled, striking each other’s bare torsos over and over as they’d rolled away from you.

The sounds had been fully inhuman, hissing and screaming with splatters of their blood then mixing with yours already on the ground.

Yet you’d been frozen amongst that raw violence.

“Go!” The one with the solid black wings had called out hoarsely though. While it’d tried to even briefly pin down the other one that had attacked you. That slightly larger creature whose wings had been both a dark pink and black.

The one that had still had pieces of your skin within his scowling maw.

“Please! Go and never come back!” The finality and heartbreak in that plea from your strange protector had also been seared into your memories that night.

The same voice that was now years older, with eyes that much sadder as Corazon still stared down at you in the present day.

“It is you.” You spoke in quiet shock. “You’re okay.”

“Why would you come back!?” He demanded again though, regardless of your sudden realization. “He saw your face in all those damned pictures Monet brought to him! He’s been trying to get leverage on everyone from the district attorney’s office all year. Information about their spouses, their kids, and…”

He sneered. His teeth had grit together. And you’d never seen that expression on Corazon.

He was so angry with you.

“You were really going to marry that spineless piece of shit from the D.A.’s office!? He sold you out in a heartbeat! Where you worked, where you were staying…everything. Doffy didn’t even have to touch him! He works for him now!”

Doffy.

His brother Doflamingo?

Corazon had told you long before the attack back then that he’d had an older brother.

The one he had really been running from when you’d first met.

But Doflamingo had caught up to you both in the end.

Even if you hadn’t fully understood it then.

Because you hadn’t known what Corazon truly was.

“I did move away, Cora. I got sent to freaking therapy because my family thought I was acting out for attention!” You blurted defensively.

They’d blamed you for sneaking out. Everyone had told you over and over that it’d only been a rabid bobcat, or a coyote, something like that that had gotten a hold of you that night.

The rabies shots that followed had been an awful regimen. But the shouts that you were just a delusional teenager making up stories about boys with bird wings had been even worse.

It’d been like being branded somehow. 

A permanent outcast.

And truly, you had been marked. The bite scars on your shoulder were still why you’d never wear a tank top or a swimsuit in public.

Yes, right after veterinary school you’d settled for the first man who hadn’t utterly despised you. Your standards had been that low.

But he’d still wanted to chase money and status, and to take his law degree back to the most populated part of the region to accomplish that.

So it was either break up or follow him back towards this place you’d once run from.

Yet how could you know any of this would ever actually find you again? That had been years ago.

Why would they even still remember you?

“You really don’t get it. Do you?” Corazon answered to that disbelief still on your face. “I swore to Doffy that if he let you go that night, I’d never run from him again. That I’d submit and serve him just the way he’s always expected the whole world to.” But he made another sound of disgust, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I really am. But I can’t stop him again. There’s nothing else he wants that he doesn’t already have this time.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say I have everything I want.”

Your eyes had still been trained on Corazon, so you didn’t miss the way he immediately bristled at the new voice.

Cora stood at his full height then too, looking up to the branches above with hatred etched on his face.

And the monster laughed in response.

Just like that night as your insides twisted for the sound.

But also like Cora’s voice, that laugh was deeper now too.

Even more menacing.

They had both grown up. 

And now you were all together again.

You moved behind Corazon instinctively as Doflamingo leapt down from the branches overhead.

He landed, letting those massive wings spread as he straightened up.

It was a purposeful display of power and size you were sure while he grinned wide. 

The whites of his fangs reflected the remaining moonlight almost as much as that single glowing red eye of his. The other eye had been scarred, taken from him long ago.

“Do you know how rare it is for me to come play in the mud with the rest of you any longer?” Doflamingo taunted, crouching a little then to better see you around Corazon’s tall frame. 

Yet just like back then, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on that creature either. It was all tan skin, stretched tight over bones and muscle as you could see his every breath. 

He was only in dark pants that looked as if they were once the bottom of an expensive, tailored suit.

The mockery of the perfect male form really. Almost human in his silhouette, save for those grand wings where arms should have been, the tail feathers which ran out from the small of his back, and the thinner, scaled over legs coming from the bottom of his pants cuffs. With splayed feet ending in razor sharp talons which now sank into the wet ground beneath him.

His weight shifted, as if he didn’t much like that feel of the dirt either. “I’d prefer meeting in my penthouse on East 22nd these days.” Doflamingo taunted as proof of that observation. “But…I thought this reunion might get a bit messy. And we did just have new carpets put in.”

“I told you I’d bring her to the lakehouse though just as you’d asked. Why are you out here already!?” Corazon barked abruptly anyway, yet you could hear that edge of renewed fear already beginning in his voice.

Doflamingo’s head tilted slightly, that amusement only growing in response. “Well, I was feeling nostalgic. How long has it been, Rosi? Since you and I really got to catch prey together?”

“We’re not doing anything like that!” Cora growled immediately.

“Feh. Quit pretending, little brother. And quit hiding who you really are.” He scolded Corazon outright that time. “This is what you want too, and we both know it. You wanted it that night as well. I was only trying to show you where to start.”

“You were going to kill her!” Cora breathed out. His hands had tightened into fists.

“Not necessarily,” Doflamingo still corrected, condescending as anything. “Actually, I doubt I would have. Don’t you remember why?” And an even deeper cruelty began to seep out with those words.

Something Corazon apparently understood that you did not.

“Shut up!” 

“Oh, stop it. We were young, yes. But not in nature’s eyes. She wouldn’t have smelled that way if-“

“I said shut up!”

And Doflamingo laughed again. “You should have been guarding her better then. Instead of running away to hide just because she was ready that night. She came right to me after all…”

“Because you tricked her!”

“You taught her our call…why wouldn’t I use it?”

The special sound.

And Doflamingo did it suddenly then.

His expression changed.

You could mimic it, but not the way they did. It came up from deep within their chests. Like a music note in its pleasantness to you.

You’d ran from your bed many a summer night to find Cora making that sound for you deep within the woods.

And you’d never really wondered why no one else in the cabin had seemed to notice or wake like you did.

Like this song was only meant for you.

It made your body feel warm again. It made you want to follow.

“Stop it!” Cora’s anger snapped you from your daze.

And only then did you realize you had begun to walk towards his brother.

Doflamingo frowned as Corazon had pushed you back behind him once more.

“You are the shining beacon of utter futility, Rosinante. As always.” He tutted, pausing only a moment longer as he readjusted his rain dampened feathers with some frustration.

The weather had changed to more of a hanging mist now. And you knew it was still cold out here. But you didn’t feel it much anymore.

You were still trying to process what Doflamingo had tried to say. 

She wouldn’t have smelled that way if-

Had they been fighting over you because…

“Come on, Rosi. I’ve been more than fair here. Stop stalling and change already.” Doflamingo warned a bit more impatiently then, pulling those pink and black wings back closer towards his bare torso.

As if he was just now noticing the cold himself.

“But why does it have to be her!? You could have anyone…just…pick someone else, Doffy!” 

And even as a grown man now, you could still hear so much of that boy within Corazon.

Doflamingo evidently heard it too. “Quit whining!” Was what he snapped back. “I’m tired of seeing you mope around! Gutless and useless…this isn’t solely for me. Over and over you tell me how selfish I am. How cruel I am. And yet I put something desirable out for you, practically force feed it to you, and still you complain!”

“Because she has a right to choose her own mate!”

“What? Like that coward she was already living with? You’d let a rodent like him usurp what’s yours!?”

“She’s NOT property! She…she’s-”

“She’s tired of listening to this drivel.” Doflamingo sneered.

And it was all begun there in an instant.

In one lunge and kick, the elder brother had cast his physical lesser decisively to the side.

Your shield was gone.

And you were slammed against the then splintering bark of a tree as that wet maw opened right against your face.

The pain of the hit had made your body try to gasp. But it was as if Doflamingo had known that was exactly what you would do, with his tongue ready to make that his invitation as he forced his way in.

That tongue was warm and long as his wings closed around you.

You were trapped against the tree.

With the sheer heat of his body making you hypersensitive for every place he now pressed himself against you.

This was real.

This was going to happen this time.

And you tasted something metallic on his tongue as well. A mix of blood and earthiness, warm and purposeful as his fangs bumped against your own far duller teeth.

He had made sure your mouth stayed open long enough as you felt something heavier than his spit slide into it.

“Swallow.” Doflamingo whispered, with his wet lips then still against yours while you felt that odd mixture hit the back of your throat.

You knew exactly what that was.

And what it meant to accept it.

Corazon called your name from somewhere so close as he’d stood again. But there was nothing else he could do.

You didn’t want Cora to be hurt either though. You didn’t want to ever have to leave him alone with his brother again.

But this was the price of staying.

And you were finally willing to make that deal.

Even if it now pleased the devil himself.

Doflamingo did growl in satisfaction too, his face briefly nuzzling down against yours once you had breathed in again, signaling your throat was clear.

He’d just fed you for the very first time.

A familial intimacy reserved only for those most dear.

“Change and hold her for me, Rosi.” Came the command to his brother which followed.

But you couldn’t look away from him. 

Doflamingo had straightened his back again. That red eye gleaming down at you.

“My little Corazon has missed you for so long…but I think he still needs convincing to let that out. So let’s help him. Together. You do want to help him…don’t you, my sweet?” And Doflamingo’s voice was taking on a bit of that special resonance again.

As he stepped back away from the tree, you did follow without being stopped this time. His soft wings grazed your sides. 

It felt so very good.

You wanted to bury yourself within the affection of those wings and never rise to see the light again.

But Doflamingo lowered them as he led you further.

Enough that you could now fully see Corazon again.

Corazon with that stricken look of devastation, as if he were watching your death in slow motion right before him. With his eyes even damper now than the weather could possibly be blamed for.

That stab of pain within you for your realization of what he was actually enduring carried even through Doflamingo’s spell on you then.

Your lip quivered. “It’s alright, Cora…” You pleaded softly. “Just do as he says…I’m okay.”

And Doflamingo chuckled.

The heartbreak between the two of you only seemed to fuel him further.

“See? She already forgives you. So show her what you really are. Let’s finish this.” Doflamingo ordered his brother even more darkly.

You both understood the threat behind those words if either of you should dare disobey him. 

Cora’s spirit was visibly crumbling.

Which made you feel all the more desperate to touch him, to comfort him.

You had missed him so much too, almost having started to believe that that part of your life really had been some sort of self induced hallucination over the years.

That you hadn’t experienced your very first feelings of romantic love with some blond, teen runaway in the woods one summer.

That you actually were just crazy.

“It’s okay.” You reiterated to him. And Doflamingo allowed you to reach for Cora.

The younger brother did take your outstretched hand for a moment too. He squeezed it tightly in his larger one as his eyes offered you a last look of misery.

But that grip was already changing. 

He had seemingly accepted your choice.

Corazon’s pale skin began to darken along his arms. The shirt he wore which had already been badly torn from Doflamingo’s earlier kick, he now used his other hand to rip off completely.

That fabric was discarded like trash as he then stood before you in only pants, the same as his brother.

And the prior lack of shoes made all the sense in the world as you saw the skin of his feet scaling over and those talons forming against the ground as well.

But the thing that captured your attention the most were the feathers as they began to bud. Piercing through the then fully darkened skin of his arms one by one as cartilage loudly popped and bones shifted.

Corazon’s arms elongated in time with his legs, that wingspan taking shape as he finally let go of your hand to spread those emerging flight feathers before they could touch the ground.

They were all solid black, yet with a rich shine as each moved into its place. His new tail fanned out behind him as well, hanging over the back top of his pants.

He was gorgeous, like a god even. 

But with glowing red eyes, fangs, and all as you noticed the submissive way he still kept his head down regardless once the transformation was complete.

Like his brother too, Corazon’s bare torso which remained, was all sinew and purpose. Every muscle so clearly defined as he breathed in deeply in his anxiety for your judgment.

But he was no monster to you now.

He was a miracle of nature.

“I like the real you.” You told him gently.

And you saw that true surprise flicker through Corazon’s eyes.

Yet Doflamingo’s impatience had to interrupt. 

With his equally long bird’s legs, the remaining distance was crossed in a single stride by him. Doflamingo pushed your smaller body roughly against his younger brother’s.

“Now, is everyone comfortable here?” Doflamingo grinned once more as Corazon caught you instinctively against his wings.

Both of them had to keep their legs bent, squatted really just to keep from towering over you in their true forms.

But neither seemed to mind the inherent size difference either.

By the predatory gleam in Doflamingo’s eye, he surely didn’t.

And before you could fully acclimate, your back was now against Corazon’s abdomen while Doflamingo pinned you from the front.

You were caught between them as wings flared and you heard Cora’s fangs hitting together above your head as he snapped at his brother in reflex, not wanting him this close.

“Hush.” Doflamingo’s lack of any real anger in response this time only highlighted the implied power difference which still remained between them. “I’ll put you back to the ground in an instant if you wish.” He reminded.

Yet it was all overwhelming to you already. Just the combination of their body heats and scents mixing together even before you felt that first movement of Doflamingo’s hips against yours.

“Put those dextrous little fingers to good use, sweet girl.” He ordered then, shifting his hips again to try and rub the waistband of his pants against your hand. “The stronger male always gets first rights of course.”

And you felt Corazon’s body tense with disgust. As if he was going to try and fight for your sake anyway.

Which you still couldn’t allow.

Because you knew he wouldn’t give up until Doflamingo had made him into a bloody pulp.

Corazon still cared for you that much.

Just as you cared for him enough to prevent that fate. 

“It’s alright. I do want this.” You said as loud as the brief rise of your own bravery would allow.

Corazon took a harsh breath.

But Doflamingo just pushed what was now an obvious bulge harder against your hand in response.

“Smart little thing.” He taunted as your fingers first made it to the button of his pants.

It was all you could do to keep your hands from trembling though as you undid that button and lowered the zipper to free what was growing for you beneath.

You didn’t know what to fully expect of course when dealing with someone that was neither fully man or beast.

Yet your intuition told you not to hesitate. That hesitation would only risk his violence returning. Doflamingo wanted you to touch him immediately as your fingers ran down that muscular V shape which dipped from his navel to his pubic region.

He wore no underwear. But there wasn’t any coarse hair there either to protect him. Just the slightest bit of downy underlayer as the pads of your fingertips found and massaged through it.

It was more wispy fluff than actual feather, soft as anything you’d ever felt as he leaned his head back in clear pleasure.

Of course, you couldn’t avoid the thick base which emerged from that softness either.

Further hardening so quickly as it kept rising up once freed.

His long cock bumped against your stomach in no time, thick and twitching once already.

It looked familiar enough, save for the damn size of it that you didn’t know how the hell you wouldn’t be injured by.

“Everything off. Now.” Doflamingo growled abruptly though. Foreplay not seeming to be a priority for him in this moment as you were then ordered to disrobe.

And Corazon had gone silent now. 

You could still feel the tension of Cora against your back before you began to undress.

Your own humiliation certainly didn’t matter to you by this point though. That would be the least of your problems as pieces of your clothing hit the wet ground one after another.

Coat, shoes, shirt, pants, and underwear were all quickly put out of the way. Until it was just you and all that you were in the cold night air.

“Don’t cover her. I want to see it all.” Doflamingo warned his brother immediately though as Corazon’s wings had tried to shift against you. 

And the little bit of room that Doflamingo had allowed you in order to undress was swiftly taken back as he now pressed you skin to skin as soon as he could.

“Yes…this is what we should have done years ago. If my little brother hadn’t been such a prude with a stick up his ass.”

Corazon growled lowly to that. 

But notably, he made no move to stop his brother this time as Doflamingo kept rubbing his cock against your skin. The head of it had begun to weep. Yet Doflamingo’s gaze had now focused onto that prominent scar on your shoulder.

The one his own fangs had previously given you.

“Did Rosi ever tell you that our kind can’t procreate on their own?” Doflamingo questioned teasingly then, seemingly at random as his tongue ran out over that scar, almost with a reverence while he licked your shoulder until it glistened with his saliva. “You see…if you breed two winged parents together, all they’ll have is miscarriages. But one winged parent and a human…”

“Doffy.” Corazon warned with his own wings still staying protectively close. “That doesn’t matter right now. Just don’t hurt her.”

“It’ll matter eventually.” Doflamingo contested with a lustful smirk.

And your knees were feeling weaker as the boys did this routine again. Falling into that lopsided codependency they had for one another, bickering even with you pressed right between them.

It was a toxic bond they shared and were so determined to now add you to.

Just like Doflamingo had first tried to back then.

But even he had gained some maturity in the time between. Evidenced by the way he first teased the head of himself at your already surprisingly wet entrance instead of just plunging straight inside.

Whether that wetness was your body’s attempt at self preservation or your own willful desire, you weren’t yet sure.

But it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. That was clear as he finally began to slowly push his way in.

And when you made that first sound of pain, stretching too much almost immediately, Doflamingo actually paused.

The feathers of his wings ruffled. Somehow the brothers were now tolerating each other enough to not react when their wings bumped one another either.

Yet Corazon’s chest hummed against your back as you felt him bend to put his lips against your neck, near your ear in response to your pain.

“Relax…I’m here.” He promised, even then still trying to protect you.

And you exhaled, feeling that inner warmth once more. Corazon was using that special tone again, resonating through you as you rested your head back against him.

Cora was soothing you as his brother began to push again.

Your were fully walled in too. Corazon’s chest to your back, against him with your thighs spread for his brother. And Doflamingo in front, taking that offering, his legs bent enough for your hips to line up as he slid in deeper and deeper.

And both their wings were to your sides. They were holding you up together as Doflamingo at last bottomed out against your cervix.

You felt like he could have split you in two if he had wanted to.

But Cora’s song just continued, calming and satisfying as you stared up at Doflamingo while he let out a surprising whine with you clenched so tightly around his extraordinary cock.

“Oh…oh, fuck she feels so good.” Doflamingo breathed next. “Keep her calm…I have to move. Keep her just like this.” He was still instructing Corazon even as his sharp hips began to slowly, ever so slowly, slide back and then forward again. The skin of his cock was dragging against your insides.

And you shuddered. Everything felt like more than you could possibly take. 

But Doflamingo’s initial whine soon became moans. He was falling apart even faster than you as his wings closed tighter around you and his movements increased.

His feathers kept shifting, his pupil was dilating.

Yet as he almost grimaced in what appeared to be an abrupt brush with overstimulation, you had your very first inkling that they did not get to use these true forms often.

This was a rare intimacy. 

Maybe even completely unique for them.

The opportunity to be with a partner in their actual bodies. With all the heightened senses and raw feelings that must entail.

You were barely even a participant, and yet you were overwhelming Doflamingo as he slouched forward with his hips still pumping.

His chin was resting on one of your shoulders then, while Corazon’s was resting on your other from the opposite direction.

“I can’t even…hell, I can’t…” Doflamingo nearly laughed in disbelief.

And you felt him tremble all over as he thrust briefly harder, much rougher then as you cried out a little. But only for three or four more deep hits before his hips stilled abruptly.

The heat inside was immediate, spilling out into you as Doflamingo held himself in as close to the hilt as he could be.

But he was too big to be flush against you, just doing his best as he buried his face beside yours and you already felt his excess seed running out down your thighs to drip onto the ground.

The forest was so quiet again. Save for Doflamingo’s uneven breaths.

“Dammit…” He cursed quietly, sounding an odd mix of both placated and highly disappointed. “I need to try again. That wasn’t enough.”

But you were still aching, regardless of Doflamingo already softening within you from what he perceived as a premature release.

“No. You already came. It counts.” Corazon’s voice returned then and there however. His wings were trying to push Doflamingo’s further away.

And those wingtips were far more prehensile than a normal bird’s once Cora decided to just pull you away from his brother instead by your waist not long after. 

It made a lewd sound when Doflamingo’s wet cock slid out of you with that sudden increase in distance. Then hanging soft in a mess of both your fluids between his legs.

He glowered at Corazon as your warmth was removed from his body once more. 

And you feared they would now fight again.

Doflamingo did briefly bare his fangs. 

But Cora had turned you to face only him then as he moved his wings to push against the side of his own pants next.

You weren’t even done dripping from his brother yet. But you saw the full desire now in Corazon’s eyes.

He’d had to watch everything. 

And he had needs too.

Ones you were sure he had been too afraid to ever tell you up until tonight.

“Here.” You reached out, helping Cora as you tugged at his pants to slip them the rest of the way off of his hips.

Fair was fair.

What you did for one brother, you knew you had to do for the other.

Even if Doflamingo was now finding the concept of waiting for his second turn much more difficult than he’d originally envisioned. 

Corazon was wearing boxers. Ones that already looked a bit too tight for him just as you felt Doflamingo step back behind you.

Cora clearly bristled, not appreciating that. But you did your best to deescalate them again.

They had their own hierarchy and rules as all flocks did you were sure.

Doflamingo was the leader of them all without question. But his own neediness and vulnerabilities were far more apparent to you now.

It was a bold risk, and you didn’t move too quickly. But you did reach behind you then to massage your hand along Doflamingo’s hip and thigh. Acknowledging him at your back, and rewarding even his few moments of patience with physical touch.

Maybe that affection had surprised him.

He’d stilled again either way, and that was all the time that Corazon had needed to slide his own underwear down enough to uncover himself.

Your face felt flushed at the sight. 

Because Cora was already rock hard. Perhaps not the full length of his brother, but no less intimidating for you.

With Doflamingo still right there however, Cora didn’t hesitate. He wouldn’t lose this opportunity.

You gasped as Corazon pressed himself right into the wetness his brother had already made within you.

Your insides stretched and filled tight as anything all over again as Cora breathed your name and began immediately rocking his hips.

Doflamingo was then growling behind you in jealous response, so your hand had to move back between his legs to stimulate him too. 

You were fondling the older brother’s still softened shaft as he twitched it wantingly in your palm.

While the younger brother quickly fell into a deep rhythm inside of you, pumping your bodies together as nature had always intended.

It didn’t even feel wrong.

Because they both needed you.

And you needed them.

Or you would now.

And as Corazon scraped inside you just right, steady and sure, your orgasm was quickly building even while Doflamingo began to stiffen again within your hand.

You just stroked him harder in rhythm to his brother’s thrusts.

You could see the future already. 

There would be babies.

Multiple babies.

One mother, two different fathers. 

Nature was like that sometimes. Especially with a rare species that needed all the help it could get.

It’d just be easier to share the resources. To have two strong mates protecting you instead of only one.

Doflamingo was already getting ready to cum again too. You could hear it in his panting as he fucked your hand so roughly then.

But it was the combination of Cora’s steady pumping and Doflamingo’s desperate movements that finally sent you over the edge.

You felt your channel spasm around Cora, who repaid that pleasure immediately with a hard shudder as he released his own seed in powerful shots to mix with what you’d already received from his brother.

Corazon did get it all in, just barely though before those pink wings were grabbing you backward abruptly. 

Yet again you were pulled off of a wet cock that had just finished as Doflamingo slid himself right back into your now fully swollen folds from behind.

His wings pushed you, then making you bend forward at the waist so he could fully mount you from behind this time. You didn’t even have the chance to recover from the orgasm you’d just had before Doflamingo was pounding you so hard against your ass.

You were panting too, trembling for the contrast of his soft wings holding you up on the outside while he utterly wrecked you on the inside.

“Come on…I need you to cum on me too…I’m not stopping this until you do.” Doflamingo threatened you. Evidently not at all missing your visible orgasm had with Corazon inside you moments prior.

Yes, everything was always going to be this way too you were sure. Doflamingo would have to have the final word, the final touch. He might share only with his brother. But everything still had to start and end with him.

He was the dominant male of this territory.

“Doflamingo…” You tried his name in some very minor bid for mercy. You couldn’t think straight enough to will another orgasm back out so soon.

But you had to.

You glanced back up towards Corazon, who still seemed a bit dazed from his own release.

But his eyes did meet yours, even as his brother now fucked you raw from only footsteps away.

Yet, it wasn’t the full sadness from earlier in Cora’s stare any longer. You saw real lust for you still so heavy in those red eyes then. That look which said he would also love to do this to you if you’d only ask him for it.

Corazon would do anything you wanted him to going forward.

And that thought was enough to bring the coil of warmth into your stomach again. 

You were going to be fine. You would survive.

You’d never have to sit in a room alone again either and worry about who or what future awaited you on the other side.

Because your monsters were already here. And they had chosen you.

You moaned loudly. Both of these men in your mind, together again while that pleasure sent your body into ecstasy one more time.

You came with that cry for Doflamingo as he orgasmed gladly in return to flood your poor channel yet again with his seed. 

Your abused cunt was dripping and your body shaking before Doflamingo pulled you fully back against his chest, wrapping his warm wings around you protectively.

His voice was a bit uneven, matching his rough breathing now. “Let’s go home then. All three of us. Tonight and forever.”

And Corazon smiled slightly at last to that rare sentiment. A remarkable expression in its own right. 

Because maybe Cora was finally realizing as you had that the worst was not truly the worst.

Doflamingo wasn’t going to let anything happen to you now.

This deal had been made and the ink was already dry.

Cora used his feathers to awkwardly pull up his underwear and pants before he idly began collecting your clothing for you soon after.

“You’re going to need bigger beds then, Doffy. Both at the lakehouse and the penthouse.” Corazon said quietly as he looked back to the two of you who were still recovering.

Doflamingo smirked, not disagreeing this time. “That’d be much easier than arguing whose bed she’ll get in each night, wouldn’t it?”

You’d lay with them both of course.

But Doflamingo nipped your ear for good measure too as his feathers rubbed more possessively across your abdomen.

“Yes. We’ll have quite a nest going on soon enough.” He grinned wide in anticipation of this truth. “Little ones never like to sleep alone either after all.”

——————————

End.

Thank you for reading! ❤️🎃

A/N: The two sentence horror story quoted in the beginning is “Knock” by Fredric Brown.

[ghouldump]

Love Me | Lestat de Lioncourt x Bi!Reader

ෆ as your companionship seems to be failing, you retreat, seeking comfort from a woman who looks awfully similar.

a short fic from me to you. bi reader, as well as rockstar lestat, has been high in demand. i actually accidentally deleted a few really good ones, but there i honestly write whenever i’m bored, so more is bound to come along.

Throwing the large book, you expected it to hit him in the head, but before it could connect, the book went left, falling onto the floor.

“How long will you continue this, ma chérie, you don't menstruate, so why must you go on like this? Hm, do you want to shop, a new handbag, shoes, a new boy toy?” Lestat asked, smirking. Behind the grin, he was incredibly frustrated. The two of you had been arguing for over an hour, and he didn't even know why.

“What does that have to do with anything? You always have to ridicule, when a problem is being addressed,” you screamed, a few tears escaping. As much as you tried to hold them back, the barrier was crumbling, as you grew angrier.

“Are you serious? What is the problem? Go on”

“That boy that you bought home, he looked like him-

“It was merely a coincidence”

“And the one before that, and before that, and many more. All of them resembled him, your Louis,” you whispered, wiping your tears.

“All of them were also drained and burned”

“After you fucked them,” you said, shaking your head as he chuckled.

“50 years, I have given myself to you, and you alone, but I haven't been enough, I’m not Louis”

“Y/n-

“You revealed your identity to the entire world for him. I let you turn me at only nineteen to fill your lonely void, and you’ve never told me you loved me, do you even love me?”

“What kind of point are you trying to prove? I told you, Louis and I had a very different relationship, than what you and I-

“Right, you loved him, and I was the replacement,” you laughed, grabbing your phone and handbag.

“Where are you going?”

“Out, text me from your iPad, if you need anything,” you grumbled. He was too much of an illiterate man-child to even learn how to use a phone, depending on you and Siri.

“The sun will be out soon”

“I won't be long,” you said, making sure to slam the door.

Your emotions were all over the place, angered at the terrible decisions you'd made over the years. You were a young party girl, in the 70s, when you met Lestat. It didn't take long before he was your boyfriend, and you were bragging to your friends about the sex. After months of dating, he confided in you about a weird call from his former lover’s partner, revealing his identity afterward. Soon, he asked you to join him in darkness, and immediately you agreed.

However, looking back, you felt like an idiot, you should've stayed away when the adults told you about the strangeness of Lestat. The rumors of him not aging, only being seen at night. You couldn't see past his charming personality or handsome face, to realize he was trying to fill the void Louis left.

Walking through the French Quarter, you maneuvered through the crowd. You rolled your eyes at all of the tourists, especially since the writer, Daniel Molloy came out with his book, people were flocking to the city.

Going into a random bar, you sat down, your eyes scanning the menu. Alcohol didn't have much of an effect on you, only making you slightly tipsy, but it was something that made you feel human.

“I bought your drink, the least you could do is give me your number,” you heard the man next to you say rudely.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.

“A pineapple martini,” you said, handing him your card.

“I didn't ask you to,” the girl argued.

“Listen, I didn't spend $20 on an overpriced daiquiri just because you're cute-

“And I told you, I didn't ask you to buy it,” she argued.

“Can you two take that elsewhere, I don't want to hear all of that, while I enjoy my drink,” you said, tapping the man’s shoulder.

“No one cares, and keep your hands off-

The man stood from his seat, lunging forward to grab you next, when you caught his arm, twisting it. You watched the man in satisfaction, thinking of how men hadn't changed, even in the 60s, 70s, 80s, and so on — there were always the disgustingly perverted men.

“You don't know how to keep your hands to yourself, it’s gross, but it makes me feel less guilty for breaking your arm,” you said, shrugging before twisting his arm. He screamed in agony, holding his arm as he ran out of the bar, just as your martini was sat down, along with your card.

“Hey, thank you for that,” the woman started, as you sat down. By her accent alone, you knew she was a tourist.

“It was nothing,” you mumbled, twirling the little straw, focused on the drink.

“How did you do that? Do you take self defense classes?” she asked.

“No”

“Well, that was pretty impressive, I don't think I’ve ever seen-

“Lady, I just want to enjoy my drink-

Your eyes widened at the woman, she was perfect, she looked like Lestat, if he had been gender-swapped. Her blonde tresses were inches away from her waist, sky blue eyes, and full pink lips. Her bone structure was symmetrical, her straight teeth as white as milk. She dressed hyper feminine, wearing too much pink and white. You tried not to be weird, forcing your eyes to stop wandering, despite catching a glimpse of her toned body.

“I’m sorry, I know I can talk too much sometimes, sorry,” she apologized.

“You’re fine, I’m just in a shitty mood,” you shrugged.

“What’s wrong?”

“My partner is caught up on his ex, even though they broke up forever ago,” you admitted.

“Why do you hold on to him then?”

“Everything else is perfect about him, I can’t help but want to be loved by him,” you mumbled, thinking of Lestat. Since he revealed himself, he had been very busy, but when he wasn’t, his attention was on you. Waiting for him backstage, in the hotels, in his coffin, the quality time was incredibly intimate.

“If he’s as perfect as you claim, why are you here, obviously upset?” she asked, scooting closer.

“I don’t think I will ever come close to being loved as much as Louis,” you admitted, gulping down the pressure of the tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching to touch your hand.

“I will be fine, are you new to New Orleans?” You asked, staring at her hand laid against your own.

“Yes, I’m Lisa by the way, but I want to move here, I’ll be out here for a few weeks, maybe we can hang out, you could be my personal tour guide,” she said, briefly biting her lip. In her thoughts, she was hopeful, wanting more than to spend time with you. You seemed mysterious and she was dying to know why.

“Y/n, What did you want to do?”

“See historical landmarks, try local cuisines, hang out with you,” she said, leaning towards you.

“Me?”

“A woman as beautiful as you deserves all of the attention”

“I could say the same thing about you,” you smirked, remaining still as she leaned closer, allowing her to press her lips against your own.

As you moved closer, your phone dinged, making you reach into your pocket. Pulling away, you rolled your eyes as you stared at the coffin emoji, paired with a question mark.

“I have to go,” you told her, going to stand.

“Could I have your number, we could hang out sometime, if you're free,” she said, fidgeting. Smirking, you couldn't help but think of how much she looked like him, yet acted completely different.

Laughing, you unlocked your phone, handing it to her. After her number was saved, you were making your way to the townhouse. The sun could be seen coming into view, and just as you began opening the door, you could feel the heat burning against your skin.

“I thought you wouldn't be long,” Lestat said from the top of the stairs, as the door was shut.

“I wasn't”

“You left nearly two hours ago,” he said, following behind you, as you walked past him, up the stairs.

“And I’m home, did you want to argue more?” you asked him, rudely. He was stunned by your tone, but recovered quickly.

“No, I wanted you to return to me, in perfect condition,” he said, watching as you stripped from the clothing, holding your phone near.

“I’m okay, it will heal,” you told him, feeling his eyes on your lightly burned shoulder. You didn't say anything else, climbing into your coffin, and he couldn't admit your already different behavior left him feeling embarrassed.

Just as your eyes were about to shut, your phone lit up, as Lisa’s message appeared on the screen, asking if you made it home safely. Lestat stared at your coffin, hearing the sound of you typing, before slowly moving to his own.

“Sleep well, ma chérie”

“You too,” you said, hearing the sound of his coffin closing.

Lestat was confused by the way you were acting. This wasn't the first and most likely wouldn't be the last time you'd get into an argument, but this time seemed different. You'd leave and eventually come home, and he'd pick a fight, and just as you started to argue back, he would apologize for his actions and everything would fall into place.

Now, just two hours later you acted completely standoffish with him, as if you didn't want to be bothered. Was the argument that serious to you? You understood the love he held for Louis, but that it was best that they remained friends alone. He was with you, he had been all these years, he cared for you, he lo-.

Lestat didn't know how to express himself, arguing, being jealous, possessive, then ravishing you with gifts, that's all he knew. What he didn't realize was his failure to comfort and reassure you, not taking you seriously, you were pulling you away, as you began to desire your needs elsewhere.

Immediately, Lestat could see the red flags going off, you were gone every night. Some nights before he even woke up, others you'd silently dress in front of him, before leaving. Even when he left for his music business, you always traveled with him, but now you had excuses.

He didn't want to follow you, but he had to, the jealous assumptions were beginning to pile up in his thoughts. Months, it had been months of you ignoring his presence. You’d look at him, hunt with him, and even talk with him if he wanted — but you weren’t putting your all into the relationship anymore. He was making the same mistake as he did with Louis. Choosing when the relationship could and couldn’t open.

He’d dabble in his different tastes regularly, no strings attached, usually killing the person after. You were different, the only way you’d have another person, was if Lestat was present. You weren’t as open to the idea of having others, and in a way, it satisfied Lestat knowing you would never sleep with another, or so he thought.

He had been following you, all the way to Gentilly, until you stopped at the unfamiliar house. His heart could have shattered, as he watched you through the window. The woman, you touched, touched in a way that was only meant for him.

He watched as you and this is unknown woman made love, his heart throbbing. The two of you, going on for what felt like hours, before you were both giggling, going into the bathroom. As the woman came out, grabbing a towel, Lestat was sure his dead heart would stop. This woman, she looked exactly like him, he couldn’t even say he looked better, because they resembled each other so much.

After your shared shower, you both plopped on the bed, holding each other. Your hearts full of passion towards each other.

“Y/n,” Lisa said, playing with your sharp nails.

“Hm?” You answered, your eyes closed. Her warm skin felt nice against your forever icy skin.

“I think I love you,” she said, making you open your eyes.

“What?” You asked, looking at her.

“I love you, I know it’s only been a few months, but that’s all I needed with you to know,” she said. You could feel the tears building up, as you pressed your lips against her own.

Staring at her, you could only see Lestat, the one who stole your heart all those years ago. No matter how idiotic you’re decision was, at the time. All you wanted was for him to declare his love for you, with his mouth.

“Say it again, please?” You asked her, as you pulled away.

“I love you,” she smiled brightly, smashing her lips into yours, as she pulled you back into a hug.

Lestat had tears pouring down his face, as he turned to leave. He didn’t think he could watch any more of whatever that was supposed to be. He couldn't take the idea of you being loving or being loved by another. All this started because of love, you claiming he didn't love you.

“Lisa, tell me you love me, once more,” you said, as you began to glamour her.

“I love you,” she exclaimed.

“No, you don't, you never met me, you won't recognize my face and you will never approach me, do you understand?” you asked her, watching as she silently nodded, you wiped the bloody tear from your eye, just as it escaped,

“Yes”

“You will sleep now, you're very tired,” you said, watching as she nodded, dozing off. She lay beautifully, as you covered her with the blanket. You couldn't replace him, even with the female doppelganger — especially with her. Lisa was a sweet girl, you didn't want to take away her life, revealing your nature, for your selfish reasons.

Leaving her home, you silently went back to your shared townhouse. It was quiet, Lestat already in his coffin, as you undressed.

“Good night,” you mumbled, getting into your coffin.

If this would be life, then you accepted it, second to Louis. You loved Lestat with every piece of your soul, so much that you could take not being loved, but being liked enough to be in his presence.

As the sun eventually left, you got up, dressing to go hunt. You found a random man, draining him in an alley, but as you made your way back home, your eyebrows furrowed. Entering the house, your eyes widened at the sight.

Exotic dancers, well over ten of them, all with wavy blonde hair and shades of blue eyes. A few of them were fawning at Lestat, but he paid none of them any kind of attention.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“For you, ma chérie, I’ll drain them, but I’ll let do whatever you please with them first,” he grinned.

“What are you talking about? Get them out, now,” you said, shrugging off a hand that was about to rub your shoulder. Watching as Lestat controlled them, sending them away, before he sat down, drained from the action.

“What is wrong with you? Bringing all of those women here? God, why don't you think,” you grumbled.

“I was just trying to appease your passions since they were more of your type, I mean, it only took a few months for you to find out,” he shrugged, making you realize he had been there.

“You can't be serious, you're such a creeper,” you laughed bitterly.

“For months, I’ve reached out to you, and you recoiled at my touch, just for me to find out you're having an affair with a woman, who looks too much like me”

“And how is that any different than what you've done?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I heard you both, making love to her, kissing her, touching her the way that you do me. Texting her throughout the day, you're in love with her,” Lestat cried.

“I’m in love with you, but you love Louis. I can't replace him, so I wanted to replace you,” you said, turning to storm away, when he caught your hand.

“I will always love Louis but don't think that I don't love you. You are my wife, my companion, the one who saved me from myself. I don't want to see you with another, only me,” he confessed. His face was covered in blood from the tears pouring down his face.

“And you have me, but you have to say it, I know you show it in your own ways, but to hear it from your lips, would help me so much,” you told him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. I know, I am a hypocrite, but end your affair, I can't take knowing you love another, I love you” he pouted.

“Fine, you won't have to worry about her,” you told him, as he moved closer to embrace you. Swiftly, he lifted you, holding you in his arms.

“Are we made up now?”

“Yes, love”

“I don't know how much I could take of that excruciating cycle of neglect,” he expressed.

“Lestat?” you said, as he sat down, having you straddle his lap.

“Yes, chérie?”

“Tell me again, tell me you love me,” you said, sighing in fulfillment as his arms wrapped around your body.

“I love you and I’ll say it as many times as you need”

…

[imababblekat]

Simon sees you sitting curled up in a chair, eyes peering lost at the sketchbook and computer before. He knows that look. It’s a look you often get when the team finally gets some time off, but you brain is stuck in this void of being unable to commit to any hobbies you once enjoyed. You told him about it once, it was offhandedly and you hadn’t delved much into it with due to still being fairly new and not wanting to bother the apparent cold stone lieutenant. Simon paid attention though, and this detail about yourself had been added to his mentail folder of his teammates.

A deep breath huffed out your nose, head drooping into your folded arms, when your ears picked up on the sound of light footsteps entering the kitchen area you resided.

“The usual?”, came Simons gruff voice, large hands reaching into the cabinet for your and his mugs.

“The usual.”, you mumbled in reply, staring at your phone and resisting the urge to start doom scrolling.

It was a battle you lost as you reached out to open an app and scroll mindlessly through its feed, the light clinking of Simon making you both tea behind you. You’re not sure how long he had taken, too lost in the endless information of peoples lives and other nonsensical things scrolling past your dulled eyes, not registering a thing you watched or read. At some point though, your phone had been snatched from your hands, replaced by a warm cup of your favorite tea, Simon pulling out the chair beside you to sit with his own.

You couldn’t even bother the smallest fuss at the large soldier for taking your phone, simpling taking a sip and then blindly staring into the liquid void.

“That bad today?”

You nod with a groan, putting your cup down to splay your hands out at the objects you once enjoyed before you.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I thought maybe I was bogged down by knowing I had chores to take care of, but even after finishing those I still can’t get myself to do any of my hobbies!”

Simon sipped his tea, dark eyes glancing up at your downtrodden expression. You thought nothing of his silence, having known him for a while now that his silence was him listening. If he truly wasn’t interested, he would have left, hell he wouldn’t have even bothered to make you a drink.

“I just. . .”, you hold your head in your hands, “I don’t feel myself. I finally get a break, and I can’t do anything I wanted to do. What’s the point of having hobbies if every time I try one of them, I immediately become disinterested?”

The Brit beside you stares down into his own mug now, thinking on your words, a silence filling in besides the muffled sound of Johnny bellowing songs in the shower upstairs. Before, he wouldn’t give two shits about something like this, leaving you to figure it out or not all on your own. Of course, being apart of the 141 it was only a matter of time before you became apart of this oddly dangerous family of sorts, and Simon found himself caring for you just as much as he did for the other three, even if he ever expressed it.

“Maybe doing nothin’, is what you’re suppos’d do.”

You quirked a brow at him.

“You? Telling me to do nothing?”

Simon rolled his eyes, sitting back against the creaking old dinning chair.

“Yeah, shocker I know, but trust me, after years of doing this shit, sometimes you jus’ gotta kick ya feet up and do fuck all.”

You look back to your tea before taking another sip, thinking on his words. He had a point though. As frustrating as it was, wanting to engage in activities that would normally bring you joy, it was only natural to not always be motivated to do them, especially with the grueling type of work you all did.

“Welp,” you shrug, closing your lap top shut and throwing your sketchbook atop it, “guess I’m doing fuck all today.”

A light, deep chuckle came from Simon, him always finding it kind of funny when outlandish vocabulary came from your lips. You never came off as the type to say such words, but then again you also didn’t exactly fit into the picture of the intimidating guys you were so close to.

“Good. Relax, ya earned it.”

You smile up at Simon, your eyes crinkling in the corners something that brought him some warmth.

“We earned it, Simon.”

[avelera]

Analysis: Arcane S2 Act 2 - What are the "flickers" hitting Jayce?

One of the few things I haven't seen analyzed based on Arcane 2.05-2.06 is what exactly is going on with the flickers, twitches, and overlaid versions of Jayce Talis we see?

Obviously, all analysis runs the risk of being laughably debunked on Nov. 23 but at the risk of making a fool of myself with the analysis and the potato quality of the screenshots I'm using, let me offer a theory.

So, remember at the end of Arcane Act 1 in 2.03 when the Wild Rune got all trippy and Jayce got "multiplied"?

Well now let's take a look at the "twitches" when Jayce keeps getting these little interruptions after he comes back in 2.05.

There's a slight shadowy overlay of himself that's merging with his image.

And when he first arrived back, three images of him merged into one, I just don't have as good a screenshot of it.

Anyway, so, what I think is happening is that every time Jayce is hit by one of these "twitches", it's one more split off dimensional version of himself returning to his body.

In theory, if his time in the Wild Rune involved time or dimension hopping, each of these split off versions of him is living in a different variation of what could happen in a different dimension or was experiencing a different time loop.

If that's the case, the reason Jayce "stutters" every time one returns is he's being hit with all the knowledge each variation has. That could include other attempts to fight Viktor, more knowledge about the void creatures, or even variations where Jayce died merging with his conscious, depending on different multiverse/time travel tropes, this is very much a few leaps of speculation as to what it does to him.

But it's clearly unbalancing and his demeanor actually changes a little each time one hits him. If anything, he seems to have a brief moment of horrible disorientation when they merge (or re-merge) with him, followed by his overall demeanor actually getting a bit steadier and more determined after he's regained his equilibrium.

Now throw in the freakout he has right before shooting Viktor. It does indeed look like Jayce is having a meltdown, or that part of him is resisting killing Viktor, all overlaid with him right before he shoots.

But I'd offer a third option: these are glimpses, shadows, of other variations of this event where Jayce did resist killing Viktor, or was angry when he confronted him, or had other, overpowering emotions unlike the relatively determined but emotionless version we see here.

The overlays are all the different emotions Jayce has experienced while reliving this moment over and over again in different dimensions or time loops. They're all flickering back into his body, one by one, leaving us with the Jayce we see who is exhausted and traumatized but otherwise seems determined and steady and does not hesitate before shooting Viktor.

I would argue, this because we are seeing glimpses of Jayce's past emotional attempts to attack Viktor, or not to, times where he was talked out of it, times where he was angry, times where he was emotional, all led to failed attempts that doomed the world. Maybe he has failed so many times because he was reluctant, or Viktor talked him out of it, or he was angry.

But this time, he just does the job. But we have a whole history of the times he didn't literally merging and overlaying with his body while we watch.

Anyway, I know I've made about 10 different leaps of speculation here, we really don't fully know what's going on yet but...

TL;DR, I think the visual stutters are other lives Jayce has lived returning to him, one by one, which at first disorients him but then gives him more information about different variations he's lived every time.

[promitto-amor]

How lucky you are to have me

Pairing: Mark Hoffman X You

Summary: You save Hoffman from the bathroom and he is eager to make up for lost time.

Warning: SMUT! Swearing (Hoffman says fuck alot, it's canon), gore/death references.

Alrighty it was about time I wrote a smutty Hoffman fix while I'm still in my Saw era. And I get to write my own little 'Hoffman escapes the Bathroom', because we all know it's happening! Enjoy kittens.

You could hear his screams from down the dank corridor. They sounded hoarse, no doubt from the wildfire rage that often consumed him these days. Your footsteps echoed loudly, at every corner you thought someone may jump out and apprehend you, but the route was void of all life. All that remained was darkness and a trail of dried blood.

You press your palms against the industrial door and give it a push. It doesn’t move an inch. The Doctor had been certain that there would be no escape.

The screams from inside stop as you slot a hairpin into the lock and after a couple tries you hear that telltale click. You heave the door open only to recoil at the stench of decayed flesh and death that greets you.

Shoving your sleeve in front of your nose, you walk into a nightmare. It’s dark enough that only outlines are visible, a line of cracked mirrors, a toilet, pipes, skeletons. Fishing in your coat pocket, you shine your torch around the bathroom and it lands on a skeletal foot. You almost drop it in your haste to move away, as you venture deeper into the bathroom. Goosebumps arise on your forearms at the disconcerting sound of a chain slithering through the dark.

“Took you long enough.”

You run your torch up bare feet and a shackled ankle, continuing upwards. Mark Hoffman flinches as your torch hits his face and you lower it to his chest, “I had to be sure they’d all left.” You return, taking a glance over your shoulder. “I’m taking a colossal risk myself.”

“Then get me out quick.” He hisses, dropping his eyes to the shackle.

“What happened to your grand plan?”

Hoffman holds up a key, “New shackle. No fucking keyhole.”

You make a sympathetic noise which deepens Hoffman’s scowl, “How lucky you are to have me.”

You drop your backpack beside him and root around inside. Hoffman watches your every move. You hand him the torch, “Shine this in the bag, will you?” He does as asked, “What did you bring?”

“I wasn’t sure what I’d be facing.” You take out an angle grinder and a grin winds onto Hoffman’s face. You switch it on and the sound of the churning saw blade sounds far too loud. You glance up at Hoffman, “If I cut you, it isn’t intentional.”

Hoffman looks like he has half a mind to yank the angle grinder out of your hands, but instead he swallows and takes a measured breath, “Just do it.” You lower the saw blade and almost miss his last few words, “I trust you.”

Steeling yourself, you align the circular saw blade with the steel and keeping a firm grip, start slicing through the shackle. There’s already chaffing around his ankle, no doubt from Hoffman’s attempts to free himself in the hours before you arrived. You hardly breathe as the blade works through and then you pull the saw blade back when there is only the smallest join of steel left hanging together. “Maybe I should have just cut the chain and we deal with the shackle later?”

Hoffman seizes the shackle and gives it a brutal tug. The shackle snaps and you wonder whether it was weakness in the metal from how much you’d sawed through, or Hoffman’s adrenaline-fuelled force that gave him his freedom. You switch off the angle grinder and shove it back in your backpack as Hoffman stands. He throws the chain away from him and then he’s towering above you. His broadness always throws you off-kilter, no matter how many times you stand before him. The circle of light from the torch jumps around the bathroom as Hoffman takes a step closer. He seizes you by the back of your neck and crushes his lips to yours. You can’t move, not with the death grip he has on you. You had no chance to breathe before it happens, leaving you to make a pathetic noise for Hoffman to release you. You disconnect with a gasp and take a deep breath before yanking him in by his jacket for a second kiss. Your hands grip onto him for dear life as Hoffman secures his own round your waist.

This time he’s the one to break the moment, “Let’s get out of this shithole.”

You’re more than eager to leave the foul bathroom behind. You can’t imagine Hoffman stuck in there slowly wasting away. A man so powerful and dangerous he brought an entire police precinct to the verge of extinction. You still don’t know if fear or admiration drives your lust for him. A heady combination of both pools inside you as you loop your arm in his and the two of you make your way back through the maze of corridors as fast as you can. “We should burn it to the fucking ground.” Hoffman says as you both emerge from the trapdoor.

“Enough fires for one day.” You say, leading the way to your car parked out front. “The Doctor got paged for surgery, but his lackey’s might come back.”

“Doubt it,” Hoffman returns as you open the car door for him. “He made sure I’d die in there. He just didn’t know about you.”

You take the driver’s seat as Hoffman slides in with a grunt. You lock the doors and glance over your shoulder as you reverse out, “If it were me, I’d stake out for two, three days. Knowing your survival rate, I’d make sure you were dead.”

There’s a beat of silence, “Then I’m glad it wasn’t you.” Hoffman returns, looking out the window.

You clamp down on a smile as you head back to your own apartment. Now and then you check in your mirrors that you aren’t being followed. Your house is roughly forty five minutes away from the Nerve Gas House, but the drive goes fast. Hoffman spends the time calculating. Occasionally his eyes slip over to you and you meet his gaze. He’s just as impatient as you.

When you finally enter familiar streets, you speak up, “I was thinking Chicago.” You prompt, “Another city, lots of people to disappear in. Or Florida, no one asks questions there.”

“I don’t care where we go.” Hoffman returns, “So long as I can put Jigsaw behind me.”

You have to admit you’re relieved to hear it, “You promise that?”

Hoffman waits for you to meet his gaze. He nods, “I lost sight for a while,” He says, “But not again.” His gaze returns to the window, now streaked with rain. “I want out. He can have it all, it’s not fucking worth it.”

“It never was.”

You pull into the driveway and park, “Open the glove box.” You order and Hoffman smirks at what he finds. He holds the gun with such a practised hand, adopting a casually defensive walk as he scopes out the house. You walk in front with Hoffman backing you up, better the Detective wield the weapon than you. As soon as the door is open Hoffman is pushing you inside and slamming the door shut. He slides the lock in place as you shed your coat and hang it up. When you turn back round Hoffman’s hands are already preying at your waist. His lips descend to your neck and you let him have access to all of you.

His touch grows desperate, tugging at your shirt, “We should see to your ankle.” You say, but Hoffman silences you with his lips again.

“Later.” He commands and you let him press you into the wall besides the coat rack. You unzip his jacket and heave it off his broad shoulders, dropping it on the floor behind him. Hoffman pushes his body against you, you can feel him hard. You lift your arms obediently as your shirt is removed, which earns you a gruff, ‘good girl’ from the impatient Detective. Your hands descend to his jeans zipper as Hoffman’s hands roam over your shoulders, down to your back and then he’s got your bra dangling from one hand. He tosses it with his jacket, Hoffman’s lips travelling from your neck to your collarbone. A whine escapes you as he suckles there, adding to the bruises he left only days ago on your skin. Fuelled by your noises, Hoffman’s restraint snaps. With a couple tugs your trousers are by your ankles and Hoffman winds one of your legs around his waist.

His low groan brushes against your lips, “Bedroom.”

It isn’t a question, but you nod anyway and Hoffman throws you over his shoulder. The world tips upside down as a laugh escapes you. Any other time Hoffman might have slapped your ass, but tonight he’s all about urgency. The bedroom door thuds open and then you’re being dropped on the bed harsh enough that you bounce on impact. Hoffman tears his hoodie off and off with it comes the dark shirt underneath. You smirk at the sight before you, a shirtless ex-Detective, his chest heaving from the night’s ordeal. Your eyes drop to his full pecs and on catching where your stare has gone, Hoffman smirks when your eyes meet his again.

“The longer we leave that ankle the more likely it’ll get…”

Your words die when his jeans come off and in the blink of an eye, Hoffman has crawled on top of you. He pecks your lips, “Doll, shut the fuck up.” He leaves more kisses with each word, between your breasts, on your stomach and then just above where your panties rest. You suck in a breath of apprehension as Hoffman’s eyes shine with desire. He dips lower, parting your legs. You take a sharp intake of air as you feel his tongue lick a hot stripe over your clothed vagina.

“Oh wow,” Your hand rakes into Hoffman’s hair, “Please…”

You keep your eyes on the ceiling as Hoffman continues to lap at you. Tingles of pleasure spike through your system and your fingers tighten their hold. Gentle fingers slide your panties off, but you daren’t look at him. Hoffman delicately traces his tongue along your most sensitive area before close his mouth over your clit. Your back arches, sensations pinging in your synapses as he starts sucking at you. He chuckles darkly, “Always the same reaction,” He mouths, placing a kiss just above your centre and then his face is centimetres away from yours. 

“Because it always feels so good.” You reason, stroking over his scarred cheek as you try to catch your breath. You feel him hard against your thigh as Hoffman lines up with your entrance, “Already?”

“Sorry sweetheart, I can’t wait.” He murmurs, already pushing in. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders and your mouth falls open. The sting of Hoffman’s cock stretching you intensifies everything. A couple tears leak out and Hoffman’s eyes widen, “Fuck.” His head falls to your neck and with a quick thrust you cry out as he sheathes himself fully inside you. It’s like you’ve flipped a switch, your glassy eyes and sheer vulnerability pushing Hoffman into a frenzy. His hips thrust hard against yours, eager to fill you with as much of him as you can take. The bed shunts against the wall as he fucks you hard enough that it’s better to rest your head on the pillow than try to meet his eyes again. You can hear his grunts of pleasure in your ear as Hoffman swells, a litany of filth spilling from his lips. “That’s it. Fucking take me. Gonna enjoy every second.”

“Please,” You’ve lost all coherency. All you can do is let him fuck you into the bad and take what he needs. Your hands fall to either side of you and Hoffman takes advantage of your submissiveness. His big hands take a wrist each as he uses the new leverage to bend one of your knees with his leg. The deeper penetration makes you jolt as your orgasm bursts fast and staggering enough that your brain feels like it’s melting.

“That’s it.” Hoffman continues, his voice strained as he too draws nearer his finish. “My beautiful fucking wife, always there when I need you.”

“Always,” You bleat as your husband cums deep inside you. His grunts turn to laboured breaths, as Hoffman sags and gives into his exhaustion. Your hands cradle his head as you hold him close. In the afterglow of your orgasm more tears prick at your eyes. Holding him now, treasuring the stroke of luck that was on your side, despite all of Hoffman’s careful planning. You could have lost him so easily. So many scenarios could have put you in that wretched bathroom alongside him.

When your clarity returns, Hoffman is slowly pulling out and rolling onto the space beside you. You curl over so you can settle in his arms, like every night. His fingers play absently with the closest strands of hair he can find, “I mean it.” He murmurs, “I’m done. Tomorrow we’re getting out of the state, laying low.”

“How are we gonna do that?” You ask, “You’re the most wanted man in the country and me by association.”

“I know someone.” Hoffman says, placing another kiss to your forehead. “Ex-military, Iraq. He has connections and owes me for keeping quiet.”

You can’t help a sigh, but it is for the best, “So long as you put the games behind you, that’s all I ask for.”

“You and me.” He nods, “Like before, like it should have been always.” Your eyes get heavy and Hoffman drapes the blanket you both keep on the end of the bed over you both. You look up at your husband, but Hoffman is lost in thought. After a couple minutes he looks down at you, “Perhaps I can cut a deal.”

“You’d have to have something huge to barter with.”

Hoffman smirks, “I reckon I could work something out. There’s a Doctor and his little Pigheads I’m sure they’d love to hear about.” 

[daryltwdixon]

The Promise of Us: Chapter 1

(I promise I really did try to stop myself from posting this and have patience but I just couldn't do it!!!)

You and the group, exhausted and starving, search for safety in the ruins of a broken world and find potential refuge in an overrun prison. Amid the constant danger, your bond with Daryl grows, though you remain haunted by the trauma of the last night on the farm.

You

You remember again what true hunger feels like after all this time—the gnawing, aching, painful twisting in your gut that threatens to distract you.

The third house of the day looms before you, a crumbling relic of a life long lost to the apocalypse. You tighten your grip on the knife, holding it up by your ear, moving silently as you creep through the back door. The mudroom greets you with the scent of mildew and decay, and the cracked tiles beneath your feet crunch softly, though the noise feels deafening in your heightened state. Snarling comes from somewhere deeper inside the house, faint but unmistakable. You can tell it isn’t the kind of sound that means the walkers have noticed anyone. It’s that idle, low growl they emit as they wait, like predators with no purpose other than to react when prey comes near.

Your heart rate quickens, but you stay calm, methodical. You’ve done this enough times to know better than to let panic creep in. Months of jumping from house to house, exhaustion clouding every move, not sure what lies around every corner. You learn to push down the fear after a while. It never fully leaves you, but it’s manageable now. 

From another part of the house, you hear bodies thump heavily to the ground—silent but unmistakable. The thud is followed by a brief pause, then nothing. 

Moving into the kitchen, you carefully step over the broken dishes, upturned chairs, and scattered garbage littering the floor. The mess seems like a reminder of how quickly life had fallen apart. People left in a hurry, abandoning everything in a desperate attempt to survive. You glance at the countertop where a calendar still hangs, frozen in time on a date that no longer matters.

The kitchen is eerily quiet, with only the occasional creak of the decaying house keeping you company. Taking a breath, you cross the room, your eyes trained on the door ahead. With your knife raised, you brace yourself and throw open the door, immediately jumping back, ready for whatever horror might come charging through.

Instead, your breath catches when a pair of familiar blue eyes meet yours, an arrow aimed directly at you. For a second, you freeze, heart leaping into your throat.

Daryl lowers his crossbow just as quickly, his lips curling into a faint, teasing smile. Scoffing, you follow him as he turns to go down the hallway. You stay close behind, eyes fixed on the back of his head, watching the way he moves with quiet precision, his crossbow back up at the ready. Always careful. Always ready.

As he leans into the doorway of what looks like a bedroom, you catch a glimpse of something unusual. A large bird—a magnificent owl—perches in the window, its enormous yellow eyes staring back at you, wings slowly spreading wide in an attempt to intimidate.

Without hesitation, Daryl raises his crossbow again and shoots the bird, the arrow landing squarely in its chest. It slumps forward, dead before it even knew what hit it.

“A meal is a meal,” Daryl says, already yanking the arrow free and pulling feathers from the owl’s body in preparation.

“Hear me complainin’?” you quip back, though the idea of eating owl doesn’t sit well in your stomach. At this point, though, you’re beyond picky. Anything that fills the gnawing void in your gut will do.

As Daryl works, the sound of a can opener interrupts the silence. You glance over to see Carl, looking young and exhausted, fiddling with the opener on a can of dog food. The others sit around him, watching him mess with it, looks of hollow resignation on their faces. Before he can get it open, Rick strides over, his jaw tight with frustration, and snatches the can from Carl’s hands, tossing it aside without a word. There's a strange tension in the air, the kind that always lingers after too many days without food, without safety.

The group’s exhaustion weighs heavily on you, making everything feel slower, more oppressive. You look around at the forlorn faces of those around you. Lori sits with her hand resting on her stomach, her head tilted back in momentary reprieve. Hershel sits nearby with Beth and Maggie at his side, while Glenn sits with his eyes cast down, his hand wrapped around Maggie’s. T-Dog stands at the window, his eyes scanning the outside world with quiet vigilance. As you glance at him, your gaze shifts past his head, and that’s when you see them—walkers, moving with their lazy, inevitable purpose, shambling closer to the house. T-Dog catches sight of them too. He turns back to the group, his voice low as he makes a quiet “psst,” a signal that instantly grabs everyone’s attention.

In a heartbeat, the atmosphere shifts. Instinct takes over. The exhaustion that had weighed on everyone moments ago disappears, replaced by the sharp edge of survival. Everyone moves quickly, grabbing what they can, the unspoken understanding that you need to leave—now.

Outside, the vehicles wait like lifelines, ready to go. You swing your leg over the back of Daryl’s bike, the familiar rumble of the engine vibrating through you as he revs it up. The wind whips through your hair as he takes off, his back solid in front of you, but there’s no time to relax. Not now. Not with so many so close. A few miles down the road, when everyone seems sure nothing is around, the vehicles stop and people clamber out. Carl immediately goes on watch towards the back, Beth taking to your right, Carol off to the front left. 

Once everyone’s on their feet again, you find yourself standing by Rick and the others, a map splayed across the hood of the Hyundai. The sunlight beats down on you, hot and relentless, as Maggie, Glenn, and T-Dog huddle around the car.

“We got no place left to go,” T-Dog says grimly, eyes scanning the map with no real hope.

Maggie is the next to speak up, her voice tight with worry. “When the herd meets up with this one, we’ll be cut off… We’ll never make it out.”

Daryl’s voice cuts through the tension, practical as ever, looking to Glenn, “What’d ya say, about 150 head?”

Glenn squints in the sun as he looks over, trying to calculate. “That was last week… could be twice that by now.”

The words hang heavy in the air as the group exchanges uneasy glances.

There’s more conversation around the map, tension rising with every passing second. Hershel points to a spot where a river cuts through the terrain. “This could delay the walkers some,” he says, his voice steady but tinged with concern. “Might buy us a little time.”

You shift your weight, leaning against the hot metal of the car as sweat trickles down your spine, soaking into your shirt. The end of summer has brought an unbearable heat in the day and cold nights, and the relentless sun beats down on all of you now. It makes everything harder—thinking, moving, even breathing. The heat feels like it’s closing in, amplifying the suffocating sense of being trapped, surrounded on all sides by herds of the dead.

Your eyes drop to the map, though the lines and roads are starting to blur. It feels like you’ve been running in circles, from one house to the next, never finding enough supplies, never feeling safe for more than a few hours. Every turn feels like it just leads you back to the same dead end—hunger, danger, exhaustion.

As a plan starts to come together, people split up and take a moment to relax by the cars, getting their things in order. 

“Hey,” Daryl growls, his voice breaking through the fog of your thoughts. He’s looking straight at you and Rick, the two of you still hovering in front of the car. “While the others wash their panties, let’s go out and hunt.”

Rick and you meet eyes then, and you nod along, your stomach giving a sharp reminder of how little your lunch had done to fill the void. 

“That owl didn’t exactly hit the spot,” you mutter, heading for the trunk of the car where your rifle rests. Your fingers close around the cold metal, and you feel a strange sense of relief. At least with a weapon in hand, things feel a little more certain, even if it’s just an illusion.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・

The train tracks are rusted and overgrown, tangled with weeds and vines from months of neglect. Each step you take along the old rails echoes softly in the still air, the sound barely noticeable over the distant rustle of the wind through the trees. The three of you walk in silence, your eyes constantly scanning the woods, ever-alert for movement—whether it’s game or danger.

The forest feels endless around you, dense and shadowed, the overgrowth reclaiming what was once human space. There’s a quiet tension in the air, the kind that never really leaves anymore, always lingering at the edge of every moment. Your fingers brush against the cool metal of your rifle, ready for anything.

Then, the trees break suddenly, the thick wall of branches and leaves giving way to an open clearing. The sight ahead stops you in your tracks.

A large, imposing structure sits just beyond the clearing—an old prison. Its tall fences and watchtowers rise like dark silhouettes against the sky, but what immediately catches your attention is the movement inside. Walkers. Dozens, maybe more, stagger and shuffle aimlessly within the prison yard, their moans faint but distinct, even from this distance. The chain-link fences seem to hold them in, for now, but the sight is enough to make your skin crawl.

“That’s a shame,” Daryl grunts, squinting as he assesses the situation, his eyes scanning the yard filled with the dead. He tightens his grip on his crossbow, frustration clear in his voice. 

You nod silently in agreement, the potential of a fortified structure like that being overshadowed by the sheer number of walkers roaming the inside. The idea of clearing it out seems impossible.

But Rick remains silent. His gaze is fixed on the prison, his jaw clenched, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimmer in his eyes—a twinkle of something…hope, maybe. Or determination. It’s the look he gets when he’s already starting to formulate a plan, even if the odds seem stacked against him.

You exchange a glance with Daryl, sensing that Rick might see something more than just a lost cause in the wreckage ahead.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・

You press your weight against the fence, the chain link rattling under the force as you shove your knife through an opening, right into the skull of a walker. Its snarl cuts off abruptly as it slumps to the ground, but you barely register it. You’re already moving again, feet pounding against the ground as you run through the middle walkway between yard and forest. Daryl stays up front, his torn leather vest flapping in the wind, the angel wings on his back catching the light.

“It’s perfect,” Rick whispers, his eyes scanning the prison yard as you all pause, “If we shut that gate, stop any more from coming in, we can clear the yard.” His voice holds a quiet certainty.

“I’ll go,” Glenn offers, stepping forward, but Maggie immediately shoots him a glare, shutting him down. Glenn stands his ground, though. “I’m the fastest. I can do it.”

Rick’s eyes shift to Maggie, Beth, and Glenn. “No, you, Maggie, and Beth, draw as many as you can over there.” He points toward the far side of the fence around the corner, “Pop ‘em through the fence.”

“Daryl, head back to the other tower,” Rick continues, calling out names and assigning positions, while you stand quietly, waiting for your role. Steady adrenaline keeps you going, buzzing with something inside you. There’s no space for fear, excitement, or even hesitation. This is just survival.

Daryl catches your eye, his gaze quick and searching. It’s a silent check-in, a wordless connection. You give him a short nod, enough for him. Then, he’s off, running toward his position.

One by one, everyone scatters, moving to their designated spots—ready to lure, shoot, and take down walkers. You watch them go, your focus sharp, every movement rehearsed in your head. The gate is key. If it stays open, there’s no winning this fight.

Rick looks around, watching them all head off, and then his eyes land on you. His lips quirk up in the corners, eyes almost apologetic.

You breathe out a chuckle, half rolling your eyes at him, “I’ll run for the gate,” you moan sarcastically, realizing your fate.

“I’m right behind ya,” he chuckles, standing by the fence. It’s such a strange thing– seeing him smile now. Like all his prayers are being answered today.

You hear the others calling for walkers, the sounds of knives piercing skulls and bodies hitting the ground inside the fence. Lori stands by the gate, her face tense as she takes a deep breath, looking at both of you for a moment, then pulls it open just wide enough to let you and Rick through.

You move quickly, quietly, gun raised, knife ready in your other hand. The air is thick with tension, but your movements are automatic now—practiced, efficient. You let your gun fall to swing around your torso by the strap to slash your knife through walker’s heads, a few finding you and Rick more interesting than those along the chain link fencing. Gunshots ring out nearby, and you see bodies falling, but you don’t let it break your stride. Rick is right beside you, both of you sprinting for the main gate. You hear a snarl coming up behind you, but when you turn to take it down, it’s already falling to the earth with an arrow in its head. You look up across the yard and see Daryl in the guard tower, his eyes on you. You throw him a quick nod again, thanks , and take off.

When you reach the inner fence, you quickly tie a cord to secure the entrance, your fingers working fast as Rick kicks down a walker that got too close. Without missing a beat, he pulls you toward the center guard tower, and you follow him up the narrow stairs, your breath steady despite the chaos below.

At the top, you finally pause, glancing down at the sea of walkers in blue jumpsuits. Their lifeless movements seem almost surreal from this vantage point. When you look over at Rick, you notice something that catches you off guard—a smile. A genuine, wide smile spreads across his face, a rare sight these days. He lets out a short, breathless laugh, almost disbelieving, and before you know it, the two of you start shooting down the walkers below, one after another.

One by one, they hit the ground. The smiles on everyone’s faces are priceless. For the first time in months–months, you hear laughter. A small part of you recognizes this rare moment of relief too, letting your tense shoulders fall in celebration. Daryl is waiting for you when you reach the bottom, moving toward you with a quiet kind of confidence. Without saying a word, he hooks an arm around your neck, pulling you close so that your head fits into the crook of his elbow. He kisses the top of your head, a gesture that feels grounding, steady. 

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Later that night, everyone is gathered around the firepit, the orange glow flickering against tired faces, and you and Daryl are stationed on watch atop a truck that was flipped onto its side to block the gated entrance out of the field. Your legs dangle down by one of the tires, your rifle resting across your lap. You sit quietly, feeling the weight of the night but enjoying the quiet– just the rhythm of breathing and waiting. Daryl’s footsteps sound behind you, pacing back and forth along the metal of the truck, eyes sweeping the area, always alert.

You watch Rick make his rounds, occasionally catching sight of him when he passes through the inner fence. It’s almost mechanical now, his path well-worn as he loops around again and again. He’s passed three times already. For a moment, the space feels surreal—so much room to breathe, and yet the tension still lingers just beneath the surface.

A hand appears beside you, and you glance down to see Carol’s face, her eyes alight with a small smile. Daryl must have noticed her at the same time, because he leans down and helps her up onto the side of the truck with a grunt of effort. 

“It’s not much,” she says, handing you and Daryl a few scraps of meat, “but if I don’t bring you anything, you won’t eat at all.”

You give her a quiet nod of thanks, accepting your share. The meat is dry, but it’s something.

“I guess little Shane over there’s got quite the appetite,” Daryl grumbles between bites, nodding toward the group around the fire. You immediately avert your eyes, your fingers tightening slightly around your lap. You try to drown out the conversation, forcing yourself to focus on anything else—the distant crackle of the fire, the rustling of the trees outside the fence—anything to stop the memories from creeping in.

You can hear the teasing tone in Carol’s voice, “Don’t be mean,” but as she continues, she gets quieter–serious, “Rick’s gotten us a lot farther than I ever thought he would. I’ll give ‘em that.”

Daryl grunts in agreement, chewing on his food.

“Shane could never do that,” she adds quietly, her tone shifting.

The name catches you off guard again, and your stomach twists, though you try to push the feeling away. You gulp down what’s left of your food and squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to stifle the wave of nausea creeping in.

“What’s wrong?” Daryl asks, his voice low, though Carol doesn’t seem to notice the look on your face as she rubs her neck. But he’s not talking to you, he’s looking at her. You manage to open your eyes after the wave of uneasiness passes, and look up at them.

“The rifle,” Carol mutters, her hand gripping the side of her neck, “The kickback—guess I’m just not used to it.”

Daryl finishes licking the last of the juice from his fingers, then invites her over with a simple wave. He puts down his crossbow and begins kneading her shoulder, working out the tension in her muscles. You sit there, watching, feeling almost like you’re observing from the outside. His hands move with practiced ease, and Carol smiles back at him, teasing warmth in her eyes.

She turns her head, grinning. “Wow, Daryl, that was pretty romantic,” she says with a mischievous twinkle, “you hitting on me now? One girl not enough for ya?”

“Pffft…” Daryl rolls his eyes, clearly ignoring her, though a flicker of a grin crosses his face. He’s about to dismount the truck when he adds, “I’ll go down first.”

Carol, with a playful smirk, looks to you and winks, “Even better!”

A twinge of humor finally breaks through, and you can’t help the laughter that escapes you as you chuckle with her. Daryl’s face flushes brick red as he helps Carol down from the side of the truck, his hands gripping her sides briefly before letting go the moment her feet hit the ground. She heads off towards the group around the fire, leaving the two of you.

You go to get down yourself, but he stands in front of you, his arms up, waiting. “I got it,” you say, waving him off.

“I know,” his voice quiet, but his fingers twitch to beckon you down. You give him a small smile, and allow him to take you in his arms as you make your way down to the ground. His hands remain on your sides even when your feet find the grass below, and you find yourself holding onto his elbows for support, both of you lingering in that space.

There’s an unspoken moment between you, the air thick with something unsaid. You hang there, waiting for what he might say next, aware of the quiet tension settling in his features.

“You know,” he begins, his worried expression breaking into a small smile playing on his lips, teasing, “I’m still all yours,” 

“Good to know,” you murmur back, not really sure what else to say, but your lips twitch up playfully at his flirting. The way he’s looking at you makes it a little easier to be present, even if just for a moment.

Daryl’s lips quirk into a grin, satisfied with your reaction, even if it’s brief. He shifts, moving to walk along the side of the truck next to you, the two of you side by side now.

“Can’t have anyone thinkin’ I’m strayin’,” he teases lightly, his tone playful but gentle, almost like he’s testing the waters.

You glance at him again, another small laugh slipping out, even if you don’t fully feel it. It’s enough to lighten the mood, and for now, that’s enough. He takes your hand, his rough calluses a comfort you’d come to love scraping your skin. He tugs you forward, towards the group. Where you could hear Beth singing.

But since it has so ought to be 

By a time to rise and a time to fall 

Come fill to me the parting glass 

Good night and joy be with you all 

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・

Daryl

She hadn’t smiled in months. 

Not a real smile, anyway. Sure, he’d gotten some laughs out of her, but they weren’t the kind that came from within– a true, belly laugh. It was more like a quick puff of air, almost like a scoff, like the sound escaped before she could even stop it. But those smiles, the ones that used to light up her whole face– Gone. He missed that. He missed the way her eyes used to shine when they’d tease each other, trading jabs and grins like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Now, her smiles never touched her eyes. They were always distant now, like her mind was a million miles away. And damn if that didn’t tear him up inside.

It had been months since they’d felt any real safety, and maybe that was part of it. Being on the run, never knowing if you’d have a place to sleep or if walkers would come through at night—it wore on everyone. Constantly watching your back could drain a person’s spirit, and he figured maybe that had something to do with the change in her. But deep down, he knew better. This wasn’t just about the lack of safety. This was about that night on the farm. What Shane had done. What she had to do. Daryl hadn’t been there in time to stop it, and even though she survived, something in her had changed.

Daryl wasn’t good with words. Never had been. And when it came to asking her what was really going on, he figured he didn’t even have a clue where to start. He didn’t want to push her—didn’t know if he should. But every time he caught her staring off into the distance, or going through the motions like she was just surviving, it hit him like a gut punch. Something was broken inside her, and he didn’t know how to fix it.

So, he did what he always did—he stayed. Quiet, steady. Right by her side. If there was one thing he was good at, it was being there. Being solid when everything else fell apart. He didn’t need to know the right words, not really. Words had never mattered much between the two of them anyway.

He wasn’t gonna give up on her. Not now. Not ever.

But damn, he missed that twinkle in her eyes. Missed the way she used to jab him in the ribs with her elbow, flashing him that teasing smile that made everything feel lighter. He wondered if that part of her was ever coming back, or if the world had taken it from her for good.

He glances over at her now, sitting a few feet away, the firelight dancing along her features, fingers idly tracing the edge of her gun. She looks lost in thought, far away from him, from the fire, from the group. He isn’t sure how to reach her, but hell, he was gonna keep trying, even if it meant standing next to her in silence for the rest of his damn life.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

He Doesn't Deserve You | A Jeon Jungkook Series | Chapter Seven

Summary: Taehyung catches you coming home late and makes you regret it Pairing: Noona reader x Jeon Jungkook (She's 28 and he's 22) Word Count: 5.3K~ (kinda got carried away with this one lmao) Warnings: Smuuuuutttt, Domestic abuse (physical and mental), explicit language and yändere behaviors a/n: Sorry it's taken me a while to come back around to this story but I hope you guys like it 🥰 Start from the beginning

After watching as Jungkook rounds the corner and out of sight I turn around and unlock the door, noticing that only the bottom lock is locked. 'That's strange, I could've sworn I locked both of them' I think to myself but don't let my thoughts wander farther than that before walking in. 

Taking off my boots and starting to strip out of my clothes just as quickly as I did the last time I went out I'm met with one of our table lamps turning on in the living room making me freeze in place. 

"Have a nice night?" I hear Taehyung say, totally void of emotion, knowing full well there's anger hidden just behind it. "Tae I can explain" I start off, walking towards where he's sitting on the armchair that faces the door but I stop in my tracks when he stands up and slowly walk towards me. 

"You can explain? What is there to explain y/n? Did you do something that needs explaining?" he continues to ask, deepening his voice as I slowly retreat, trying to maintain some distance between us. "No, I didn't do anything wrong" I say, standing my ground and knowing that it's the truth. 

"Is that so? Then why was it that I heard not only your voice but a man's voice as well right outside our door y/n? Care to explain that?" he asks, continuing to stalk towards me and in my need to escape I stupidly bump into a wall behind me leaving him a chance to lunge at me and trap me against it. 

"He's a friend" I breath out, my voice getting smaller and smaller, dissociating and pulling my consciousness out of the situation, only being able to watch from above. "A friend? Huh, didn't remember you having any friends. Where, pray tell, did you meet this friend? Or better yet, where were you tonight?" he ask, getting up in my face and taking a deep breath. 

"You smell sweet, seems like you might've been drinking tonight huh? Is that what you did? Met a man at a bar behind my back? Then you have the audacity to tell me you did nothing wrong!" he says, raising his voice as he continues to stare me down. 

"We didn't do anything. We just had a few drinks and he walked me home, that's it" I explain, giving him the facts and the facts alone because that's exactly what happened. He pushes off the wall and walks away from me, letting out a sigh with curses attached to it, trying but failing to calm his temper. 

“Are you cheating on me?" he asks and my jaw drops. "No! You do not get to play the victim card with me like I'm the one that did something wrong! This has nothing to do with you" which in reality it doesn't. My intention was to talk about what happened this morning but I decided to focus on Jungkook instead. 

I'm not lying and I'm not the one who's in the wrong here. I have to keep reminding myself of these things because otherwise if I start blaming myself again then he wins. 

"This has everything to do with me! I am your husband and last time I checked my wife isn't supposed to be going out for drinks by herself and picking up men to bring them home!" he yells, his anger building by the second but I'm not backing down this time. 

"I did not pick him up or bring him home. He was a friend that was walking me home so I wouldn't have to pay for a cab or walk in the dark on my own. I didn't cheat on you and you know that" I say, continuing to defend myself and Jungkook. 

"Well you might as well have" he mumbles while running his fingers through his hair. 

"I can't say the same for you" I say without a second thought but throw my hand over my mouth, knowing that I've made a terrible mistake. "Excuse me?" he growls out, rearing his head toward me, his eyes narrowed and waiting for my response, seconds away from losing control... 

But I press on anyway.

"You heard me! You had the audacity to not bother coming home last night and then when you show up bright and early this morning you didn't even give me any sort of pitiful excuse as to why. Then when you get a call from your mistress, the one you probably just left, you let her not only interrupt what we were doing but you also left and ran back to her right away" I say, raising my voice and holding my chin high, summoning all the confidence and strength I'll need to deal with this conversation. 

"My mistress huh?" he chuckles dryly, shaking his head and stalking towards me before grabbing me by the throat and pulling me towards him before slamming me up against the wall, squeezing so hard that he cuts off my cries of pain.

"What makes you think you can talk to me like that huh? What makes you think that you can disrespect me in my own house? You dare accusing me of stepping out on you when you were just with a man tonight. From the looks of your hair and makeup alone I know you're lying" he says squeezing harder for a second before letting loose just enough for me to choke out a response. "I'm not lyin-" 

"Don't you fucking dare! I know he fucked you! Your messy sweaty hair and you smeared makeup is proof enough. Although looks like he didn't do a very good job of it since you still have some lipstick left huh?" he says through gritted teeth. 

I start to see black dots in my vision and just as I'm about to lose consciousness he lets go, letting me fall to my knees. 

I cough and wheeze, trying to flood some oxygen to my lungs while he cracks his neck, getting rid of some tension before saying another word. He glares down at me before crouching down and lifting my chin up, making eye contact while he smiles at me with a look that says he's gonna make sure I regret what I said to him. 

"You're gonna tell me exactly what he did to you" he starts and I shake my head but he cuts me off "No see, you will. You'll show me exactly what he did to you and I'm going to show you that I'll do it better. Remind you who you belong to" he says, taking off his belt and I continue to shake my head, letting my tears start to fall, silently begging for him to stop. 

"You think tears are gonna work on me? Don't you realize that that's exactly why I stay with you? Seeing you cry and beg for mercy even though you body is screaming for more. Watching the tears stream down your face while your makeup is fucked up beyond belief from it all. Fuck baby you're the reason I'm like this. You go around, purposefully getting in trouble and giving me a  reason to treat you like this" he says, caressing my face and giving me a disgusting grin while he watches my face as I fall apart. 

"I don't want this" I sob, begging for all of this to stop. "No see that's where you're wrong. You were so upset that we got interrupted that you went out and did something that you knew would make me want to hurt you because that's exactly what you wanted. You're a slut for pain and you love it when I do this to you" he says while grabbing onto my bicep and dragging me up by it, making me wince in pain. 

"Taehyung stop, please" I sob, "Taehyung stop" he mimics me in a high pitched voice, making fun of my cries for help. "All I hear when you say that is you begging me to go harder, you're begging me to use you like the worthless whore you are" he says while dragging me into our bedroom all while I'm pulling and pushing and fighting my way out of his hold.

Right before he throws me on the bed I'm able to break free and run into the bathroom, him chasing after me but right at the last second I'm able to close and lock it behind me. 

I take shallow breaths in and out, hyperventilating as he bangs on the door and screams for me to open in. I scream back and tell him to leave me alone but it only makes him furious. 

"I'll break this fucking door down you whiny bitch! Open up!" he yells as he throws his body up against the door, the wood slamming into the door frame and I pray to whatever higher power there is out there to send someone here to save me. 

As soon as I finish my prayer I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket. Reaching for it I let out a sob when I realize it's Jungkook's email that he said he would send me and I click on the number right away, not bothering to read the message and hold my breath as I listen to it ring and ring and ring until I hear him pick up.

"Noo-" "Jungkook please, please come back please Taehyung's here and he-" I cut him off but before I'm able to get much more out Taehyung cuts me off as well with another one of his yells. "Who the fuck are you talking to in there? You better not be calling your little boyfriend you whor-" "Jungkook please" I whimper. 

"I'm already on my way I'll be there in 5 minutes, I just pulled out of The Blue Pearl and I'm at the light about to turn onto your street. Just stay on the phone with me okay? Do you have a spare key anywhere?" he asks, talking me through it all and assures me he'll be here soon. 

"It's under the mat" I let out, trying to keep my voice as low as I can so Taehyung doesn't know what's happening. "Okay where are you in the house?" he continues and I tell him exactly where I am and what's going on and he keeps me talking, making sure that Taehyung hasn't gotten a hold of me and that I'll be safe until he gets here. 

"Okay Noona I just pulled up, I'm parking my car, I'm running upstairs" he lists off  and while I hear the sounds that match his claims my breathing gets a little deeper with each word, calming me down and knowing that no matter what Jungkook will protect me with everything he's got. 

"I'm at the door and I'm grabbing the key, I'm turning the lock okay I'm inside" he says and hangs up the phone as soon as he starts walking down the hallway. 

"Who the fuck are you?" Taehyung yells out as soon as he notices Jungkook's form stalking towards him but the next thing I hear is the sound of Taehyung grunting in pain and feeling the thud of him hitting the floor. 

"What the fuck?" he yells out and at that sound I open the bathroom door. "Noona go back inside and lock the door" Jungkook says sternly, barely glancing at me as to keep his eyes on Taehyung to block any movement he might make to harm me.  "You know this guy?" Taehyung says, wiping the corner of his mouth and looking at the blood caused from his busted lip.

"I was the guy she went out with tonight" Jungkook say, throwing my friends argument right out the window. "Jungkook please" I say, my voice strained from the pressure Tae had put on my throat. "Noona go back inside and lock the door" he growls out again, balling up his fists and ready to throw another punch. 

"Maybe you should listen baby. Don't wanna watch while I beat up your little boyfriend here" Tae grits out and while Jungkook is still turned to face me he punches him straight in the jaw, leaving him stumbling back a few step but stays standing. "Jungkook!" I scream, rushing towards him to check on him but he ignores my efforts to do so and puts me behind his back to keep me out of reach.

"That's a bit cruel now isn't it? Worrying about him over your own husband? I guess you really are a slut" "You shut your mouth" Jungkook growls, squaring his shoulder and I can tell just from his back how he'd be willing to kill Taehyung if I asked him to. 

"Taehyung get out!" I say as loud as I can, the pain on my larynx worse than it's ever been before. If Jungkook hadn't gotten here I really think Taehyung would've gone too far this time.

"You heard her! Get the fuck out" Jungkook says getting ready to grab him but after Tae takes in Jungkook's figure he steps back and starts to leave on his own. "Fine, you can have her. She's worthless to me anyways" he says over his shoulder and I have to grab Jungkook by the arm to keep him from lunging at him again. 

"Jungkook please stop, just let him go" I say, holding on with all my might and at my voice he relaxes a bit but still keeps his guard up. "Keep your bitch on a leash y/n. We wouldn't want anyone to get hurt" is Tae's last sentiment and at that I let go of Jungkook, letting him do as he sees fit.

"What'd you fucking call me?" Jungkook asks, holding onto Taehyung's neck just like he had done to me and all Tae can do is claw at his hand and gasp for breath, letting out choked curses as he does. 

"Huh? Sorry? Didn't catch that" he says, squeezing even harder but I place my hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to reality again and at that he stares Taehyung down before letting go of his neck and shoving him out of the apartment. 

Before Tae is able to say another word Jungkook slams the door in his face locking it and putting on the chain lock in an effort to make sure he won't be able to get in too easily.

Jungkook leans his forehead against the door, hand rested against it in the form of a fist before he turns around and as soon as I try to say something he wraps his arms around my torso and holds me tight, wordlessly showing me that he's here and he will protect me from anything and everything if I let him. 

After a few minutes of standing like that I lean back and look at him, tracing my hand gently along the swollen area on his jaw. "I'm sorry" I choke back, letting the emotions of the moment hit me again. He brings his hand up just like I had, tracing it along my neck where the skin is red and showing signs of bruising that I'm sure will be there tomorrow. 

"Don't" is all he says as he runs his thumb along my lips, the bottom one spilt in the corner from where I had bitten it nervously at some point. 

"But I-" "No, don't. I knew what I was signing up for when I came here" he says, tucking my hair behind my ear and wiping away the tears that have started to fall. "I would've done a lot more if you hadn't stopped me" he says, studying my features before he pull back and assesses my body 

"Did he touch you anywhere else? Are you in any pain?" he starts, pestering me with more and more questions before I can even answer one and all I can do in response is smile, watching as his eyes dart all over me. "Jungkook I'm fine" I say but he scrunches his brows and tongues his cheek. "You're obviously not fine now tell me what he did to you" he says sternly, not backing down from this. 

I take in a shaky breath before relaying everything that happened and he pulls me in for a hug once I've finished, making sure to be a lot more gentle this time but still, no less full of comfort and promises of protection. 

Now sitting on the couch together he keep a hold of one of my hands, playing with my fingers as we sit there, neither of us knowing what to say. I look up at him and notice that he's been staring at me, waiting for me to say or not say anything, just wanting to show me that he's here and is focused solely on me. 

"Thank you for coming" I mumble and he smiles, nodding his head while he rubs circles into my palm. "I wish I could've been here under different circumstances but thank you for calling me and letting me be there for you" he says and I nod my head as well, both of us going back to sitting in a comfortable silence for a while.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up" I say, taking note of his busted lip and the blood that had started to drip down his chin. "What? This? This is nothing" he smile, making light of the subject but I nevertheless lead him into the bathroom. 

I close the lid of the toilet before having him sit down, him obeying and letting me take care of him with little to no protest.

"This might sting a little" I say before using some rubbing alcohol to clean up the surrounding area. He flinches and grabs my wrist in response, his eyes narrowed in pain from the sting. "I'm sorry" I apologize but he doesn't bother saying anything, his eyes now focused on my lips.

My eyes flitter down to his as well, feeling as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room and before I can stop myself I'm already leaning down and kissing him. 

The kiss is soft, chased and so full of longing from the both of us but I pull away, scared that I might've crossed a line that he might want to keep drawn until we figure things out.

"I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that" I say but before I have the chance to open my eyes he's pulling me in by my hips and guiding me down to kiss him again, a hand on my jaw trying to keep me close. 

We kiss for what feels like only moments but when we pull away all we can manage to do is try to stop our racing hearts as we slow our panting breaths. 

"Are you going to leave him" he lets out before taking in another breath, the patterns slowly going back to normal.

"I- What?" I ask, caught off guard from the straightforward question and it takes my brain a second to catch up. "Are you going to leave him? Because if we do this I don't think I'll be able to go back to what we were before" he says, his thumb rubbing circles against my hip as he still has me pulled in close. 

I look down at him for a moment, studying his features and notice his parted lips, now swollen from my doing. His brows pinched in concentration and just bellow are his eyes, pleading for me to say something, full of those same galaxies that continue to pull me in. 

"I'll leave him" I let out in a hushed tone, words that I had only hoped I would say one day. His eyes trace all of my features making sure that I truly mean what I say and as soon as he's satisfied with my answer he stands up, picks me up by my hips and places me on the bathroom counter, our roles reversed with him now towering above me. 

"If you want me to stop then tell me to stop" he says and I blink up at him for a second before nodding my head in response. "Use your words Noona" he says, caressing my cheek and my jaw drops before regaining composure seconds later. 

"I'll tell you" I respond and at that he leans in and kisses me, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter and wedging his knee between my parted legs, letting me use him if I want to. I place my arm around his neck and place my other hand on his jaw, keeping him close and wordlessly asking him for more. 

When he pulls away a bit I chase his lips, scooting closer to the edge and let out a breathy moan, getting friction when I wasn't expecting it yet. "Use me to get yourself off Noona" Jungkook says against my lips, pleading for me to keep going but letting me take control. 

I do as he say and chase after his lips while I throw both arms around his neck to anchor myself as I rock my hips back and forth, moaning at the feeling of my clit rubbing up against his thigh, my thin leggings and his jeans the only barriers between us. 

I pull away to catch a breath but my hips never stop as he's now holding onto them and guiding me, keeping the pace just right. I let out breathy moans, not being able to hold back enough to hide what this is doing to me.

"You make such pretty noises for me. So responsive" he says, pulling me further up his thigh and making me gasp at the feeling before letting out an unrestrained moan. 

"There we go, let me hear you. Let me know how good I'm making you feel" he rasps out in a deep voice before pressing his lips against mine, swallowing those noises he just asked for. 

I swear I could cum from just listening to him. 

"Shit Jungkook" I curse, pulling back and gasping for breath, so close to release already. "Tell me what you need" he says, hands still dragging my hips at a steady pace. "Fuck touch me please" I whine out, the sensations on a whole other level when he's the one doing this to me. 

"I am touching you" he taunts, forcing me to tell him exactly what I want. "I need your fingers. Please fuck" I groan out, feeling as he drags me harder along his thigh. 

"Noona wants my fingers yeah? You want them down here?" he pauses his motions, tracing the wet stain on my legging and I moan out a 'yes' before he slips his hand under my waistband and gently draws a stripe up between my folds with his middle finger before just barely ghosting it against my clit. 

"Jungkook please" I beg, my hips chasing after his hand. "Patience Noona. I promise I'll make you feel good" he whispers in my ear before pulling his hand out of my pants, wrapping my legs around his waist and carrying me to my bed. 

"Wanna eat you out" he says after making both of us fall on the bed. "Is that okay?" he questions and I nod my head before saying 'yes'. He kisses me for a little bit again, making my brain get even foggier than before, giving me that same fluttering feeling he always does but this time lower and accompanied by a pulsing need for his touch. 

He notices how I start to squirm and takes mercy on me, chuckling dryly as he pulls away and sits back, looking at my leggings and then up at me and when I try to take them off on my own he pulls my hands away and kisses my palms instead. 

"No this is about you. Let me take care of you yeah?" he asks and I nod my head, trying to keep myself from moaning at his words, his fiery gaze locked on me before placing my hands on either side of me and getting up off the bed while slowly sliding down my pants. 

"No panties huh? No wonder I could feel how wet you were" he teases and I cover my face in embarrassment when I look down and see the wet stain I caused on his jeans. "Don't hide from me" he says while he comes down to hover over me, making me want to do it even more. 

"Come on pretty, let me see you" he rasps out and at that I take my hands off my face, him not having used any pet names with me before leaving me caught off guard.

"There she is" he says with a crooked smile letting my jaw drop. He laughs and kisses my open mouth before trailing his lips down my neck, paying close attention to it, wanting to kiss away the pain. 

I hiss at the feeling of his middle finger drawing lazy patterns along my clit, caught off guard by the sudden touch. "You gonna let me take care of you?" he asks, his words dripping with promises of ecstasy and I only whimper in response, his finger now drawing circles around my entrance.

He watches my reactions as he dips it inside of me, feeling all my senses heightened from the sensation of being with someone other than my husband. Someone who truly wants to take his time with me. 

"You're already acting like this and I've only put in one finger. Let's see what kind of pretty noises you make when I add another huh?" he taunts, slowly dragging his finger out of me before adding another one. 

My hips buck up at the feeling, chasing his touch and he chuckles, enjoying the fact that my body is not ashamed in show my desire for him even if my mouth can't say it.

"Just like that, ride my fingers Noona, use me" he says and I moan at his word, something primal stirring up in me at the sound of them. My hips buck up into his hand without remorse and I gasp when he adds another one. 

He takes his hand away when he feels me tightening around his fingers and I groan at the loss of touch. "It's okay, I'm right here. Just want the first time you cum to be on my tongue" he says, leaning down to whisper it in my ear making me melt into the mattress, completely at his mercy. 

"Can you take this off for me?" he asks, playing with the hem of my shirt and I nod my head, sitting up and taking it off and as I go to take off my bra his eyes widen at the thin black lace wrapped perfectly around my breasts. "Keep it on" he husk out and I close my legs at the sound, needing some sort of friction but he pulls my legs apart thinking that I was trying to close myself off from him. 

"None of that" he says and takes time to really look at me, making eye contact before studying my features and taking in how fucked out I already look. "Lay down for me" he says, leaning in to kiss me and guiding me down on my back again. 

He takes his time kissing me, trailing his hands up and down my torso before replacing them with his lip, tongue and teeth, leaving no inch of skin untouched. "God you're so beautiful" he groans, taking time to worship my body, reminding me of how I'm meant to be loved. 

He pulls down on the lace covering my breast and latches his lips around my sensitive bud, hardening from the arousal coursing through my veins. He switches to the other one and gives it the same time and attention, his brows furrowed together in concentration, finding pleasure in this act as well.

"I can't get enough of you" he growls out, trailing his lips down my torso and kissing my waist, sucking marks into it as a reminder of what I let him do to me.

He looks up at me before focusing his gaze on my glistening folds and how I'm clenching around nothing, begging to be full. 

He leans in and licks a hard stripe from my entrance to my clit, sucking it in gently and moaning into me, making my hips buck into his face, chasing more of that sensation. 

"Fuck you taste like candy" he moans, making out with my cunt, leaving me grasping onto his locks with one hand to keep him close and placing the other over my mouth to hold back the moans I'm bound to let out. 

"Take your hand off your mouth or I'll stop" he commands, looking up at me with a fiery gaze that tells me he'll make good on his word. 

I lower my hand slowly and keep my eyes on him and watch as he become hungrier at the sight of my flushed cheeks and rising and falling of my chest. "You're such a good listener" he grins and before I'm able to say something in response I'm cut off by the moan I let out when he dips his tongue inside me. Now alternating between kissing, sucking and fucking me with his tongue, moaning into me all along. 

I can tell I'll never be able to find anyone as skilled as he is with his fucking mouth. 

I'm seeing stars already from the build up alone and I buck my hips up into him, begging for more. He pulls back and looks up at me, his chin glistening with my arousal and his eyes full of hunger, begging me to give him everything I have to offer. 

"You gonna cum Pretty?" and at that I arch my back, moaning and feeling so close to cumming like I knew I would. His fucking mouth making me weak for him in more ways than one. He grabs my hips and presses them down into the mattress to keep me in place for him. "Stay nice and still for me yeah?" he says, coaching me through it and making me hang onto every word. 

"Good girl" he says, kissing the inside of my thigh before going back to eating me out, going even harder and faster than before if even possible, never letting up on giving me anything and everything I need and all I can do is let out a slur of unintelligible moan and whimpers, motivation for him to keep going. 

Before I'm able to get anything out he takes his mouth off of me only for a second, looking up and savoring my reactions before growling out "Cum" leaving me cumming on his tongue, just like he said he wanted me to.

He continues his ministrations, licking and kissing and sucking up everything I've given him, slowing his pace but keeping his mouth on me still, obsessed with the way I taste. 

I try to pull back and wiggle my way away from him but he pulls me back in by my hips keeping me in place. "Stop running" he growls out and when I whine in overstimulation he looks up at me with a devilish glint in his eyes, telling me he's no where near done with me.

"I know you can give me another one" he taunts, kissing and sucking marks on the inside of my thigh and my vision goes blurry with lust, desire flooding my senses all over again and I nod my head before laying it back down on the pillow, him pulling away only to grab another one. 

"Lift your hips for me love" he says while caressing the outside of my thigh and I do as he says and he places a pillow under them, angling me just how he wants me and giving him a better angle this time. 

Fuck I'm in trouble...     

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[rosenclaws]

Can I request 15 and 34 from the fluff prompt list with either Logan or Charlie, please? Congrats on 600!! 💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛

Join my 600 Follower celebration!!

15 - “I’m asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

34 - “I shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy.”

a/n: Thank you for requesting!!! Funny enough though they're both fluff prompts this somehow turned angsty dasflk;j im so sorry i do it to myself

He's hiding something. You know he is. Logan has just been different. I mean he was always grumpy and short tempered but this was something else. You thought, or well you had hoped that your time in the void had really bonded you.

You were trash from another universe while he had gotten dragged through hell by Wade. He got you and you got him. You were a failure to your universe so they pruned you. Logan was the worst variant of Wolverine. Something felt nice about having someone else who was the worst with you.

Ever since you landed in Wade's universe you had only gotten closer. Both of you picking up odd jobs for money until you finally landed a steady bakery job. Horribly early hours and lots of hard work but it meant you could be home by lunch. Logan was often out late too. He wouldn't tell you what he was doing but he came back with enough rent money so you didn't question him. You used to eat lunch together. It was a way to make sure the both of you were actually taking care of yourselves. It wasn't anything fancy. Just sandwiches or pasta or something easy.

But for some reason Logan has been avoiding you. Constantly. To the point where he'd leave the room if you were there. It was really starting to bug you. You don't know what's going on with him. You catch him staring sometimes. His eyes are worn and broken. When you try and approach him they harden right back up and he stalks away. It was infuriating.

You finally reached your boiling point when you came home early from work one day. Your back aching and you're dead tired. You lean your forehead against the door, just taking a moment. Then you hear him laugh. You know it's him. He's got this unmistakable snort that he tries to hide but he can't. So he's just avoiding you, no one else. Its you. You're the problem and you don't understand why. In a fit of anger you slam the door open.

"Out! Everyone except for you." You point at Logan. The room clears quickly. Wade opens his mouth to say something but you glare with a ferocity so strong he shuts up.

"Good luck kitty cat!" He whisper yells before hurrying out the door.

"What?" Logan grumbles, his eyes averting to the ground. You scoff and throw your things on the couch.

"What is your problem? You've been avoiding me."

"Why do you fucking care? Not like we were close anyways." He asks with a roll of his eyes.

"Bullshit Logan. I'm asking because I’ve seen the way you look at me. I see you across the room look so sad but the moment I even take a step you're back to this shit." You gesture to his closed off stance.

He's running from you and you demand to know why. He puffs out his chest and stands up. Mumbling about how ridiculous this is and tries to walk away from you.

"Logan! For fucks sake!" You follow him, your anger morphing into confusion as he continues to run.

"Just tell me what I did?!" Your voice breaks as the desperation comes out. You just want him back.

"Nothing!" He growls as he turns back to face you. Slamming his hand against the wall. You jump as he cages you in. He's breathing hard as he stares at you. This is the closest you've been in weeks.

"Nothing. You didn't do anything wrong." His voice is softer, sadder.

"There has to be something Logan. I miss you." He sighs and clenches his fist.

Fuck he thought he could avoid this. That he could get you to run away before he fucked it all up but for some reason you're still here.

"I shouldn’t be allowed to be this happy. I mean just look at me.” Logan thinks so low of himself. He always has. He's a fucked up lost cause. Everyone he cares about dies or gets hurt and its always his fault.

"You make me happy." He confesses.

You make him feel unlike anything else. Like he's not the monster he was. You look at him and he just, smiles. It's weird and strange and a feeling he's not used to. It scares him to his core.

"Man you really are stupid." You say in disbelief.

"I...What?" Logan looks confused but you grab his face and kiss him.

He stumbles back in surprise but ends up taking control quickly. Pushing you against the wall and digging his hands into your hips.

"You make me happy too Logan, so please don't run away from me."

You comb your fingers through his hair as you tug him closer to you. He closes his eye as he leans his forehead on yours. The urge to shut you out is there, listening would be easier but there's a chance at real happiness right in in front of him and he'd be a fool to ignore it.

"Fuck it." He grabs your waist and pulls you tight. Smashing his lips onto yours in a messy kiss.

He can be selfish, just this once.

Just for you.

[drdemonprince]

i read in the comments to my last ask about "ordinary unhappiness" the idea of depression as a lack of agency and i feel like that is true? when i feel miserable and in pain, it's not because something is sad but because something is either unachievable or impossible (or at least there is the perception of it). and like i think that's what you were getting at too? this thing that drives you to keep going, this lack of satisfaction. i simply don't have anything i can give into such that i would ever even feel a lack of satisfaction. i've never had anything to give myself into and feel frustrated and perhaps sometimes successful in but instead i just envy the people who do have those things. nothing i've ever done has felt maintained a sense of emotional connectiveness in that way (positive or negative). i guess to wrap this back around to another potential talking point, i'm curious how you find that in your life? is it weird for me that nothing has ever felt worth putting myself whole ass into? idk, i find it envious you've got both writing and gay hypno fetish stuff you're able to just throw yourself into so wholly and utterly

Passion isn't inherent, it can be a choice too. I only look like I care a ton about writing and gay hypno stuff because I have deliberately chosen to pursue those passions, for many years, and cultivated a deep interest in them, anon.

When I was in my early twenties, I felt completely empty. I was a void. If you've read the first chapter of Unmasking Autism, this is the period I'm talking about in that book. I went away to graduate school (because I was good at academics, and I had some illusions about what a career in that field would do for me), but I had absolutely zero zest for the subject of psychology at that point. I had no research ideas. I read psychology books and publications purely out of obligation. I did what was required of me, but nothing additional beyond that, and I spent the rest of my time sitting at home, sometimes literally staring at the wall and crying. I had no friends or hobbies, aside from taking long, long depression walks listening to podcasts in order to fill the silence.

This was when I was at my most depressed, and my most suicidal. Just existing was a pain. I'd sob in bed at night and cry out begging for God to kill me, and I didn't even believe in God. The only thing that distracted me from my pain was a guy I was seeing, who was beautiful and very cruel and inconsistent, and I clung to him through all kinds of lies and abuse because it felt as though my happiness was located inside of him.

I had a friend that I wrote to about how miserable I was, and all the twists and turns that my horrible romance was taking. Her name was Heather. (Unlearning Shame is dedicated to her). She told me hey, you're a really good writer, did you know that? I really enjoy reading your emails, even when you're speaking about the most pitiful anguished shit, you really put it poetically and have a ton of insight. You should write more.

For a while, I ignored her. I didn't care about writing. I just wanted to get my pain out on the page because I had nobody to talk to, and oodles of time to waste. I had nothing otherwise that I felt I HAD to say. I had no PASSION. I did not feel like I was put on this earth to do anything. Other people seemed to have these drives, and I had nothing.

But then one day in a fit of depression I stopped by a bookstore right near my apartment, The Armadillo's Pillow, just to get outside of the house. I happened upon a book I had loved in high school, Jonathan Franzen's The Corrections. I took it home. I read it. It transported me for a few hours away from my pain. I went back to the book store and picked up some sci-fi. A John Varley collection, I think. I was also swept away from my suffering, even when the stories had flaws that I noticed. I was interested in the actual craft of storytelling: what worked and what didn't. And there was finally some beauty in my head instead of the usual dreariness and self-hatred and emptiness.

And so. I made the choice to write. I could have taken it or left it at that point. I didn't care about anything. Caring is a muscle that you have to flex. And when you're depressed, it can be very hard. I needed a lot of nudges from the external world and other people, to realize that I had some things I did gravitate toward, even if I didn't realize it.

All that time of course I WAS driven to write. I was churning out 5k word letters to Heather every day practically. I was reading stupid shit online. And when it was put in front of me, and I had no reason to feel guilt about not working hard enough on other things, I reached for books. But I didn't feel passion strongly under the heavy blankets of my depression. Or usually at all, really. I am a quite internally muted person whose emotions are suppressed. But they're there. Speaking to me softly. And to overcome my depression, I had to decide to listen to them instead of ignoring them all of the time, and give them kindling, and then fan them into a flame.

I started blogging regularly while I was in graduate school (right here, hello, you can check my archive dating back to 2011), and finding a reason to live. When I was writing, I felt like the world was interesting, and beautiful. It gave me new things to do. I attended literary readings and book launches all over town. I submitted work to magazines. I bought old copies of magazines and read them. I inhaled books. I listened to fiction podcasts. I joined writing groups. At first, it felt like a slog, like anything else. Doing these things, I was not "happy". But I was interested. I liked learning about the world of publishing, critiquing people's stories in my head, and commisserating with other Tumblr writers about the stuff that got featured on the Prose tag that sucked.

After YEARS of doing this, of choosing to fan my passions, it became a genuine motivation in my life. But even then? I lose track of it sometimes. I get busy, or there's no place comfy to sit and read in my apartment, and I forget that I like writing and reading for months at a time. And then I have to choose it again. It takes effort to care about something, every time.

It's the same way with hypno. I did have a fetish for this stuff all my life long. But it's a passion that people always thought was weird and gross, and that I thought was bad. I didn't tell anyone about it until my late 20's. I felt ashamed masturbating to it or looking up hypno content online. For years I snuffed out that flame of passion until I could barely feel it anymore. It wasn't until I was super depressed AGAIN in my later 20's that I took a bunch of weird off-label anti-depressant drugs under the table and had a weird dreamy headspace overtake me and make me insanely horny that I remembered how much I loved hypno, and because I was in search of an escape from my tormented brain, I sought hypnotists out.

And I had the time of my life. But I also had boring, awkward encounters, bad hook-ups, and had to do a ton of work.

My passions have drawn me out of depression because I needed them to. I had to find them, listen to them, and then give them lots of food. And it's one of the few things that a person does often have agency over, no matter how dispiriting their circumstances. You can make choices about where to put what attention you do have, in what free moments you do have. When you're on the bus or in line at the grocery store and you're thinking about how much you hate yourself, you can try to think about a story you read or a sexual fantasy you had, instead. It's a lot of work. But it's better work than the work of hating yourself, which takes a whole lot of energy and attention itself.

I hope you can find something like this for you. It doesn't really matter what it is. It can be some hobby you've always wanted to try, or something "childish" you've suppressed. Having a passion isn't like being chosen by the universe to care about something. It's not like love at first sight. Nothing fucking works like that in life. It's always work. It's always a choice you have to make, because no one else will give it to you. But there can be hints that you can follow, sometimes.

[midnightshade]

GojoHime: Evidence and Discussion

Jujutsu Kaisen isn't a romance series. It's a horror action series that focuses more on platonic bonds and camaraderie between its characters. That being said, just as any shounen series, it has its fair share of ships, each with its own assortment of crumbs and small details.

GojoHime is a particularly interesting ship to look at. Being a massive fan of it myself,  it's fun to pick through the evidence that supports it. I'd like to share the evidence that I and many other GojoHime fans have found. I'll be starting with the smaller, weaker evidence first and working my way up to the strongest evidence.

Before I start in earnest, I want to clarify that this isn't made to attack any other ship. People can ship whatever they want, and no ship in the series is canon (aside from exceptions like Hakari and Kirara). I like GojoHime so I want to talk about it. That's really it.

With that out of the way, let's begin.

First, let's start with the evidence outside of the manga itself. This one isn't very compelling, but it is cute. In Japan, there is a chip brand called Bakauke. Bakauke has two mascots known as Borin and Barin, who are girlfriend and boyfriend. When Bakauke collabed with Jujutsu Kaisen, Utahime and Gojo were chosen to represent the Borin and Barin respectively, thus being depicted as girlfriend and boyfriend.

Moving on to evidence found within the actual manga, we see that on the splash page for Gojo and Utahime, the print behind them depicts arrows known as a Yagasuri pattern. In Japan, this is a symbol often used for weddings. It's meant for good luck because "a shot arrow does not return," and therefore, a married woman does not (or should not) return to her parents.

We also see depictions of them under an umbrella often used at weddings. Sharing an umbrella is also a common romantic trope in Japan.

Other smaller evidence exists in the form of their phone call. This consists a beeper code, where the number of their call spells out "I like you" in code, and another interesting detail is that Satoru calls Utahime from his recent contacts, implying that he calls her often.

Gojo and Utahime were made to be opposites. Aside from the obvious "opposites attract" trope, it creates a compelling visual story between them. Man and woman, strong and weak, modern and traditional, blue and red. Satoru hates alcohol and loves sweets while Utahime loves alcohol but hates sweets.

Gege said Gojo only puts down his Technique with people he trusts, which we see him do with Utahime. He trusts her enough to have to actively put his Technique back in place after she throws a teacup at him.

Moving on to some of the strongest and most convincing evidence, we have Waka Inoue, Utahime's very own technique, and Gege's past works.

Gojo had a picture of Waka Inoue as his background as a teenager. He clearly finds her attractive, as is common, considering she's a popular model, but the reason why this is important is that Inoue shares a lot of similarities with Utahime.

Both women have noticeable bangs, they're the same height (166cm), and they share a love for alcohol, karaoke, and sports, specifically baseball. Waka is described once as a "competitive crybaby who hates to lose," and as we see in the Anime, Gojo has a way of firing Utahime up and she is also prone to being a bit of a scaredy-cat and a crybaby. We also see her more competitive side come out during the baseball tournament between Kyoto and Tokyo.

Moving on to Utahime's Cursed Technique, as some Japanese fans have pointed out, Utahime's Soro Soro Kinku (Solo Forbidden Area) is based on a real love song about forbidden love with lyrics about a masked lover. The records from the singer, Akina Nakamori, are called Utahime records, and the singer even does Gojo's unlimited void hand sign during her live performances of her song, "Fin."

The most compelling bit of evidence for me is Gege's past works. Two of his three one-shot manga have characters who are very similar to Gojo and Utahime. The male protagonist is usually cocky and teases the female protagonist, while the female protagonist gets annoyed at his antics but is otherwise down to earth and kind.

In Nikai Bongai Barabarujura, the protagonist, Noroma, reminds me of teen Gojo in appearance and behavior. He is "the strongest" who teases Nodoka, the female protagonist, for being weak but has an obvious respect for her drive and inner strength.

In Kamishiro Sosa, we have a similar set-up as before. The male protagonist, Ganji, is very energetic and careless with the female protagonist, Rekko's, feelings, and is seen to have a very similar type of banter as Gojo and Utahime have.

Gege clearly likes that type of pairing, which isn't surprising given the bickering couple and rivals to lovers is a popular trope in romance. It's not unusual for Mangaka to reuse old ideas, and that seems to be what happened with Gojo and Utahime. Even their appearances share similarities.

As you can see, GojoHime has a lot of thought put into it, and it's very interesting to see the little details Gege has put into their dynamic. There's definitely a reason why so many adore this pairing, and I'm glad Gege has paid attention to that.

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 17: FOREVER & FOR AFTER

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 16 | MASTERLIST | Epilogue (soon)

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: SMUT (oral m/f receiving, unprotected sex, praise, teasing, dirty talk), FLUFF (reconnection, personal growth, engagement), mild angst, alcohol mentions, food mentions, irl fire references, links for immersion wc: ~13.4k 💌: this couple has wrecked me. until next time ❤️ song inspo: For Us x dvsn (highly recc listening to feel the vibes)

The sound of your footsteps echoed softly in the empty tunnel, with the occasional drip of rainwater landing somewhere off in the distance. Trent’s hand was intertwined with yours, leading you down to a different area you weren’t all that familiar with.

“Where are we going?” you asked, glancing at him while he led you down the hall. You pulled at his jacket that was draped over your shoulders to warm you up.

“Dressing rooms,” Trent replied casually. “I just need to grab my stuff. It’ll just be us. Everyone’s gone by now.”

You followed him curiously as the hall opened into a larger space. Trent pushed the door open and held it for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you stepped inside. The energy was still in the air despite no one else being around, it was almost eerie, but you wandered further in, trailing your fingers lazily along the polished benches of the dressing room until you stopped in front of one that made you feel an overwhelming sense of emotions. 

Isaac Y/L/N

You brushed your fingers over the nameplate, frozen in the realization you were having. It was weird seeing your brother’s name in the same dressing room as Trent’s.

The jacket slipped from your shoulders slightly as you sat down in Ziggy’s spot, giving you a clear view of the name Alexander-Arnold across the room. Trent was crouched down in front, going through his bag, but his eyes met with yours when he noticed you staring at him.

“You okay?” He asked carefully while adjusting from his crouch to sit in his seat across from you.

You nodded, smiling sheepishly. “I’m okay..it’s just weird seeing Z’s name in here. It’s like I blinked and he went from begging my parents to play football to being in the prem.”

Trent leaned forward in his seat, smiling back at you with his hands clasped loosely. “He earned it though. More than most.”

“I know…” you spoke softly, staring back at Trent. “This whole night has been insane honestly.”

Trent stayed quiet while studying your face, but then he leaned back and shifted his expression to a more vulnerable look.

“I almost left,” he said suddenly.

You tilted your head, giving him a confused look. “What? Left where?”

“Liverpool” Trent clarified. “I almost left Liverpool.”

“Why would you even think about doing that?” you asked, fiddling with the zipper from his jacket hanging over you.

He breathed out slowly, dropping his gaze to the floor before catching yours again. “I didn’t feel right.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “But you’re–”

Trent cut you off, letting out a subdued laugh through a soft breath, void of any humour. “I felt stuck, Y/N. I tried different hobbies, tried throwing myself into football..I even tried dating but nothing worked. It felt like I was just floating. I was moving through everything but nothing was moving through me, y’know?”

You nodded slowly, you weren’t sure if you truly did know, but the vulnerability in Trent’s voice kept you quiet.

“And I thought maybe a new city, new people, something shiny and different would make me feel alive again.” He admitted, absentmindedly rubbing his hand over his jaw. “But even just thinking about it made me feel worse.”

You frowned at the thought of it all. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“I tried something else instead.” He glanced up at you with a small smile. “Therapy.”

You blinked in surprise. “Therapy???”

“Yeah,” he responded with a low chuckle. “Mo told me about this therapist...Dr. Ali. She called me out on all my shit, but she helped. A lot.”

Dr. Ali? My Dr. Ali??

Trent went on to describe a technique she used that 100% made you realize it was the same therapist that guided you through your own tangled mess of thoughts. You felt your jaw slack slightly, but you didn’t say anything, too stunned to interrupt him.

“Therapy made me realize I was running away from myself” Trent continued in a quieter voice. “Leaving wasn’t going to fix the fact that I didn’t know who I was without football. Or without…” He trailed off, meeting your eyes to complete his sentence. 

You swallowed hard, staring back into his eyes while your heart pounded against your chest, trying to process what he was saying. You were still stuck on the fact that he’d ever consider leaving, but the coincidence of having the same therapist without knowing it really threw you for a loop.

“I didn’t like it at first but therapy helped me work through a lot of shit even when I thought I did everything I could do here. But it wasn’t just that. Your brother helped me more than he’ll ever know.”

“Ziggy?” you added for clarification, as if you had any other brother besides him.

Trent gave you a soft smile. “Yeah. When he started training with us, he had that same spark he had when he hung around me at the park. He’s taller for sure, but he still looks like a kid next to us. Kind of reminds me of when I first started too.”

Trent’s words pulled at your heartstrings as you looked up at your brother’s nameplate and then back at Trent. “That’s sweet. He really looks up to you, T.”

Trent studied your face, baring into your soul from just a few steps away as he stood up and slowly made his way to you. “One day during a rough day at training, Ziggy gave me the same look you’re giving me right now and I knew I couldn’t leave.”

“What look?” you asked.

“Like you’re wondering if you made the wrong decision because you don’t know what happens next.” He cupped your chin with his warm palm, tilting your head up. He brushed his thumb over the corner of your bottom lip softly. “Like you’re trying to figure out if you should run away or just stay along for the ride.”

Trent’s eyes didn’t leave yours once as he kneeled down beside you, taking your left hand in his palm. He brought your hand to his lips, placing a kiss below the knuckle of your ring finger. “That day, I knew I couldn’t leave. And I’m glad I didn’t because if I did...I wouldn’t be here with you right now. Everything always leads me back to you.”

He wasn’t wrong though. Every wrong turn and every miss had both of you still orbiting around each other, even if it wasn’t visible. You felt fluttering in your chest that spread down to the pit of your stomach. The words Trent intentionally spoke encased you in warmth you weren’t sure you would ever feel again. The memory of the past two years filled with shedded tears, aches of missing him, and nights spent staring at your phone wondering if you should unblock him seemingly faded away like a polaroid in reverse, peeling back darkness until the colors redeveloped to lift the shadows and create an image that was now bathed in sunlight.

“Y/N..” Trent started again after your silence continued. “I’ll knit the threads of fate myself until they spell your name. I love you intentionally and I don’t want to spend another minute of my life without you.”

You smiled softly, feeling the corners of your lips tremble as you tilted your head toward him, whispering.

“Then don’t.”

And just like that, neither of you did.

The time that followed felt like stepping into a long lost rhythm. It was natural and easy this time around, feeling entirely new and like a breath of fresh air. Both of you decided to take time and figure out what this version of your relationship would look like by intentionally keeping things private. You only shared with a tightly knit group of family and friends, choosing not to share your rekindling with the world. You didn’t post much on your own social media accounts after the fire, and Trent barely posted on any of his because all the moments he wanted to share were always with you.

Except he still used one account pretty regularly to document something special: Scentimental

The one you still had blocked.

Unbeknownst to you, Trent still used the burner account to document every note he tested while trying to help you finish the fragrance you originally started when you first met him. The one you just couldn’t quite figure out the missing piece to. The memory of the night you vented to him about it replayed in his head constantly. The two of you were lounging on your couch with the TV dimly lighting the room. You started with your head on his lap, but by the time you got so worked up about it, you were sitting upright, motioning your hands around like you were in a meeting.

“I don’t know what to add and it’s pissing me off..” you sighed in frustration. “Everything I’ve tried smells nice, but it’s not it. I want it to smell like how we feel when we’re together. Like–like…”

“Like what?” Trent asked while leaning forward to listen.

You pressed your lips together to try and find the words. “Like warmth. But not the cozy kind. I want it to feel happy, bright, and alive.”

“Like when you wake up the first morning on holiday near the beach?” he suggested with humour in his tone.

You laughed, slightly intrigued but not yet ready to battle with the pride of figuring it out yourself. “Maybe. But not just that. It’s for us so I want it to feel like us. Like everything we’ve ever been through.”

From that day forward, Trent made it his mission to quietly log his attempts on his burner page. You had no idea he was sneaking random bottles into the house, testing scent strips at the training centre or in hotel rooms, each clip tagged with short captions for note taking.

In one video, he wafted a tester strip in front of the camera and sniffed it while frowning. “Smells spicy. Too spicy.” Another clip showed a failed attempt of using a smoky tobacco note. “This shit smells like a cigar lounge. Y/N would hate this.”

One day, he uploaded a final video clip. The view wobbled as Trent adjusted the camera and leaned into the frame holding a vial of gold benzoin liquid he ordered from southeast Asia. “I think this is it” he said while dabbing some of the liquid on his wrist to sniff it. His eyes shut for a few seconds as he took in the notes, and when they opened again, a golden smile spread across his face. “Yeah, this is the one.” He held the vial up to the light, inspecting it with a newfound sense of clarity. “It’s warm and sweet like a honeyed vanilla, but not too strong. It feels like us…like serendipity.” Trent placed the vial on the table with a clink, leaning back in his chair and dragging his fingers over the stubble on his jawline. The camera kept recording as Trent stared off, lost in thought. The faint sounds of outside traffic filled the silence until he let out a quiet sigh, reaching for the hotel notepad on the desk. When the pen hit the paper, the first few lines came slowly as he crafted the words that were running through his head for a long time. His handwriting was a bit messier by the time he hit the third line, spilling out his thoughts faster than his hand could keep up with.

When he finally finished, he held the paper in front of him and read it back to himself with a faint crease in his brow, then he ripped it from the pad, carefully folding it and tucking it into his pocket with a soft chuckle. Trent glanced at the camera again, twitching his lips into an awkward smile. “Alright, so…” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously before continuing again. “I’m pretty sure this is it.” He picked up the vial of benzoin and rolled it between his palms before setting it back down. “But now it’s on me to do the other part.”

He paused hesitantly, but then continued. “I’m gonna ask Y/N to marry me.”

Trent fiddled with the pen in his hand, looking away from the camera as he took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking about this for ages and I’ve had this ring–” He stopped himself, laughing in a self-deprecating way. “I don’t even wanna say how long I’ve had it because it’s embarrassing but it’s just…”

His voice grew smaller again, as he glanced at the vial again before speaking. “It��s mad, innit? She’s my person. I know it..I’ve always known it. But now that it’s actually time to ask her, I’m bricking it.” Trent blinked up at the ceiling as his eyes became glossed with tears. He took a deep exhale through his nose. “What if she says no though? Then what?” he whispered more to himself than to the camera, but then he shook his head like he was trying to shake the thought. “Nah. Nah. She won’t say no. She can’t say no. We’ve come too far, right?”

Trent laughed quietly, wiping his thumb discreetly under his eye. “I sound like one of those lads in the Love Island confessionals right now. Why am I speaking to a camera about this?” he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. After another stretch of silence, he looked directly into the camera with a face that can only be described as terrified, but very deeply in love.

“I just hope she says yes” he said softly with a hesitant smile, tapping his finger over his screen to end the recording before he could get any more emotional about it. The weeks that mirrored the videos he posted were filled with small, but intentional steps to build your forever. While Trent was secretly testing notes, the two of you were creating memories to match, each one more beautiful than the last.

One night, after the twins said they’d be out late, you and Trent decided to seize the rare opportunity to spend a quiet night together. The two of you lounged in the bonus room upstairs, which was mostly meant to be a ‘man cave’ for Ziggy, but somehow turned into a more communal space for everyone in the house. You had a blanket draped over your lap, ready to watch a show called Giri/Haji – a Japanese-British crime drama you knew he’d love.

“What’s this about again?” he asked as the show started playing.

You cuddled up next to Trent, giving him the rundown as the Netflix sound played. “It’s about this detective named Kenzo who’s trying to find his brother in London but it’s not the typical cop drama. It has all these family dynamics and it switches between Japanese and English. Trust me, it’s good.”

“I trust you.” Trent chuckled, pulling you closer to him as he wrapped his arm around you. Neither of you paid attention for long. Somewhere between the opening scenes and Kenzo’s arrival in London, Trent’s hands slipped under the blanket draped over you, tracing slow, lazy patterns on your thigh, edging higher and higher until you shivered, but not from being cold.

“Trent…” you whispered, trying to sound stern, but the minute his lips grazed over your neck you lost all composure.

“Mm?” he murmured while his fingers fully explored the curves and crevices of your body.

You tilted your head back, moaning softly. “I want you so bad right now…”

Trent grinned against your skin, stamping his words on your neck. “C’mere then.” Just as his lips crashed into yours, footsteps thudded up the stairs. You didn’t hear any of it between the noise of the TV and your thoughts drifting in and out of a lust filled haze.

“Hey!” Ziggy’s voice boomed through the staircase. “We’re ba–”

“What the fuck?” you shrieked, yanking the blanket higher so he wouldn’t see where Trent’s hands currently were.

“I fucking knew it!” he exclaimed, turning the lights back on with a lot of dramatics. “You’re both disgusting. Is this what you do when we’re gone? Out in the open?? Right in front of my bedroom???”

“Get out!” you glared at your brother while Trent discreetly fixed your clothing. 

“Nah, I’m staying” Ziggy answered smugly, plopping his body directly between the two of you on the couch.

Trent sighed heavily, running his hand over his face because the twins cockblocking your alone time was becoming increasingly more common. “Bro, don’t you have something better to do?”

“Nope, not really,” Ziggy replied with a grin, grabbing controllers from his gaming setup. “Mario Kart, anyone?” Much to your dismay, Ezzie appeared a few minutes later, holding a bag of snacks with a grin. “Sorry to interrupt. Mind if I squeeze in?” She flopped on the couch next to Ziggy with her own controller, creating a twin barricade.

You buried your face in your hands, groaning out of frustration. “Why are you both here? You said you were going to be out late!”

Ezzie shrugged, popping some snacks into her mouth. “Change of plans. The vibe at the club was off. So…are we playing or what?”

Trent gave you a smirk as he grabbed two controllers and handed one to you, making you roll your eyes in playful annoyance. Despite the twins’ precise interruptions, your nights with Trent were still full of lots of love and quiet moments for connection. The time you spent with him was the happiest you’d ever been. When Trent had more time off from football, you explored some of the world’s most beautiful, hidden corners. 

In the Dominican Republic, you found yourselves in the secluded beauty of Playa Ermitaño in Samaná. The journey to get there was its own adventure and included boarding a tiny boat that skidded across the Caribbean water and past lush green cliffs that jutted out of the sea. You teased Trent the whole way, watching him clutch the side of the boat every time it rocked too hard against a wave.

“Not a fan of the ride, are you?” you asked, laughing just as another small splash hit his face.

“The boat could be bigger, no? I feel like I’m gonna slip off!” he yelled out, gripping the railing tighter when a bigger wave hit.

You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, tugging on his arm to pry him off the railing. “Relax baby. We’re fine. It’s not that deep.”

“Literally or figuratively? Cause both are mad for you to say to me right now.” he muttered while gripping the railing as another wave rocked the boat.

By the time you reached the shore, the sight of the beach was enough to make him forget the ride. The sand was soft, white, and stretched into a crescent shape, framed by tall cliffs and thick greenery. The water was clear enough to see coral reef down below, and the only sounds were the small lap of waves and occasional rustle of palm trees swaying in the breeze. A small group of locals greeted you with smiles, offering you plates of traditional food like grilled fish in banana leaf and fried plantains. After your meal, you coaxed Trent into a calm and shallow edge of water near the shore. He stepped in hesitantly, keeping close to where his feet could touch the sand.

“So you’re really not going to swim?” you asked, floating just a few doggy paddles away.

“I’m in the water. That’s swimming, yeah?” he argued, gesturing around him like standing in waist deep water counted as swimming.

“No..you’re wading. There’s a difference.” You swam closer, kicking your legs as you leaned forward to rest your hands on his shoulders. “Don’t worry, T. I’ll save you if a Caribbean mermaid pulls you under.”

“Baby..don’t even joke like that” he muttered, staring at the saltwater clinging to your skin. Something about the way the sunlight glistened off your wet skin caught his attention even more, and his hands found your waist under the water, pulling you closer while you wrapped your legs around him. “You look so sexy in this bikini baby. Need to take it off of you.” His voice dropped to a tone only you could hear as he brushed his lips against the corner of your mouth.

“Do you?” you whispered back teasingly, grinning while your hands trailed from his shoulders to the back of his neck. It wasn’t long before he had you pinned up against a shallow rock, hidden from view by the cliffs and the water lapping at your thighs. You broke apart when you heard some laughter from another group arriving on the beach and Trent groaned, resting his lips on your neck. “Saved by the tourists” you teased while smoothing your hand over his damp curls. You pushed off of him and back into the water as he watched you swim away with amused and slightly frustrated smile on his face.

In Greece, you explored more secluded islands that felt like old Greece. These trips weren’t the Mykonos and Santorini tourist spots you saw on every influencer’s feed. Instead, you hopped around small slices of paradise like Lipsi and Donoussa where the locals and village cats outnumbered the visitors, and luxury yachts were far and few between.

After a day of wandering around cobblestone streets, you found yourselves in a taverna tucked behind a row of olive trees. The Mediterranean breeze carried the scent of lemon and oregano from the kitchen as the two of you sat under the glow of hanging lights above you, drinking ouzo and laughing like you were the only two people that existed in the world.

“You’re gonna hate this” Trent grinned, holding up his glass of ouzo.

You tilted your head, confused. “What? Why? It tastes fine to me.”

“Nah, not that. What I’m about to say..” he replied, grinning while leaning back in his chair. Trent gestured around the taverna, swishing the ouzo in his glass. “The food, the drinks, the old man who just served us like we’re his family..it’s nice, innit? Good vibes.”

You narrowed your eyes, cutting your eyes at him as you caught on. “What are you on about?”

“I’m saying we could live here” Trent’s smile grew wider. “Just drop everything and buy a house in a little village with whitewashed walls. You could make perfumes from olives or something. I’ll teach kids football and...uh..I don’t know? Fish or something.”

You stared at him, trying to gauge if he was serious. “T.. you can barely swim and I don’t think olive tree perfume is a thing.”

“Not yet,” he countered with a smirk. “But if anyone can make it a thing, it’s you. And I don’t have to swim that far. I’ll just catch some little fish for dinner. Bare hands.”

You snorted, shaking your head at his nonsense. “Mhmm. And I’ll sell my olive perfumes to the two tourists that accidentally end up here every year.”

“Yeah, exactly.” he nodded like you just made his point. “The simple life. Just us. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

As ridiculous as the idea sounded, that little life sounded intriguing, even if it wasn’t all that possible. You looked at his softly illuminated face over the rim of your glass as his smile curved into something just as bright as the Mediterranean sun.

“You would go mad after two weeks” you teased.

“Yeah.. probably,” he admitted, laughing. “But it’d be a good two weeks.”

You smiled, leaning forward to rest your chin on your hand as you stared at him. “I think I like this little life we’re building though. Even if it’s not here.” 

And just like that – the ouzo, the sea breeze, and the little taverna existed just for the two of you.

Eventually, you finally made your way to the villa in St. Barts you were supposed to travel to around the time Les Notes d’Amour burned down. It looked like paradise, but calling it paradise might’ve been a little unfair to Trent, who was sprawled out on the bed, completely wrecked and staring at the ceiling like he was praying for some type of intervention after the multiple rounds you had.

“I can’t baby. I’m finished,” he muttered in a tired voice.

You were on top of him, not taking his answer seriously. “T, you said that last time and then you started it up again.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure this time.” 

The two of you explored every crevice of the villa in ways that could never make it to any booking listing the moment you arrived. The outdoor shower with the view of the ocean was the first stop, followed by the pool deck, the plush couch in the main lounge, against the trunk of a palm tree, over the balcony, and finally the bed in the master suite. Not to mention the quick detour against the marble counter in the bathroom before your dinner reservations, or the quickie you had bent over the outdoor kitchen area. But still, you were insatiable somehow.

“I need more,” you pleaded, running your nails down his chest.

Trent groaned and covered his face with one hand. “Baby, you drained me dry, literally. There’s nothing left. You won..I concede. Throw in the white flag or whatever you want me to do.”

You pouted, jutting your bottom lip out while leaning closer to brush your lips against his ear. “You don’t have anything left for me?”

Trent peeked at you from his hand and the guilty look on his face made you giggle. He was a mess with a sheen of sweat covering his upper body, and a look in his eyes that said he would if he could, but he really couldn’t. “Baby..I swear if I had anything left you’d get it.” he promised in a soft voice. “But you tapped me out. I can’t even get it up anymore, I tried. I’m fucking knackered.”

You sighed, shifting to lay on his chest while his fingers trailed down your back. “Do you think it would be any different if we came here when we were supposed to?” you asked in a muffled voice against his skin.

Trent wrapped his arm around you to hold you closer. “Nahhh..it wouldn’t have felt like this.”

You lifted your head to meet his eye. “What do you mean?”

“I mean we weren’t us then. Not like this, anyway.” He paused to kiss your forehead. “This feels right. Like it was lined up the way it was meant to.”

“You’re too sweet. I don’t deserve you,” you whispered.

“Yes you do, Y/N,” he replied with no hesitation. “You deserve all of this, and I’m gonna spend every day making sure you know it.” You smiled, tracing your first initial, adding ‘AA’ at the end on his chest absentmindedly. You were finally thinking about it, but you didn’t know if you were ready for it. Every holiday you went on, you thought he may finally pop the question, but he never did. It didn’t bother you all that much, you were enjoying spending quiet moments alone with him – even if you were daydreaming about marrying him increasingly more often. You looked back up at Trent, who was now passed out after his exhaustion caught up to him. You stayed there, pressing your ear against his chest as the rhythm of his heartbeat created melodies with the crash of ocean waves from the shore, lulling you to sleep. You were comfortable, even if neither of you put an official title on what was next – every holiday, late night convo, and quiet minutes spent together felt like steps forward.

A few months later, you and Trent were seated at a conference table for a meeting with your architect as you stared at a huge blueprint of your future home. 

“Alright, so I was thinking this area here," Trent said, tapping on the living room section with his finger, “should be open enough to add a trophy display. Something with lights and glass. I want it to be the first thing people see when they walk in.”

You squinted at the plans with a frown creeping on your face. “A trophy area? Are you serious? In the living room like a museum??”

“Nah, it’s not a museum baby.” Trent looked somewhat offended that you were shooting his suggestion down. “Where else am I supposed to put my Ballon d’Or when I win it?”

You couldn’t help it; the laugh burst out of you. “Riiight, because that’s right around the corner.”

Trent snapped his head to you, smirking while also giving you a glare. “When I win, you’ll be the one polishing it.”

“Um, no. I’m not your maid.” You shook your head and leaned forward to study the plans again. “And if you get to have a space for your trophies, then I’m getting a fragrance room. You don’t need a whole room to hold a few trophies.”

“A few?” he repeated in an offended tone. “I have more than a few and I’ll be getting loads more.”

The architect, a patient older man with greying hair, was listening to all of your bickering but he eventually cleared his throat to intervene. “Maybe we can consider a multipurpose space? Something that can display his awards but also house other elements like art or personal collections?”

“Or fragrances” you interjected with a cheeky grin, knowing Trent was probably rolling his eyes next to you.

“Fine,” Trent dramatically sighed, leaning back in his chair. “As long as the gym stays. I need that for work.”

You scoffed as you eyed the massive size of the home gym on the blueprint. “Trent.. you literally train at AXA every day. You don’t need a huge gym at home too.”

“Yeah, but AXA doesn’t have you walking around in leggings and tiny tops” he smirked, making you playfully shove him. “I need enough mirrors in there so I can see that.”

“Flirting with me isn’t going to change my mind” you countered back while trying to hide the smile creeping up on your face.

The architect stepped in again and shifted the conversation back to something more practical. “We can scale the gym down a bit and allocate the space for a nursery in the future? Or a dual purpose area?” 

The mention of a nursery made both of you go quiet. You looked at Trent, who had a soft expression on his face. “Yeah... a nursery. I like that idea.”

You took a deep breath, not sure if you were ready to start prepping for babies that didn’t exist yet, so you switched the conversation back to the gym to mask the emotions you felt. “You’re just lifting weights, T. I don’t get why you need a gym here.”

Trent leaned in closer to you, smirking as he loudly whispered in your ear. “You don’t complain when I have to lift you up and help you when you get tired on top.”

“Oh my god, shut up!” you whispered back just as loud, trying to hide the secondhand embarrassment you got from your man mentioning that in front of some greying old man. The architect coughed into his hand, pretending he didn’t hear anything, but you knew he probably heard it all.

After what felt like hours of going back and forth – arguing over color schemes (you vetoed Trent’s suggestion of an all grey scheme), kitchen appliances (he insisted he needed an espresso machine even though he barely drank coffee), and the location of the dining room (closer to the garden was your compromise) – you finally reached an agreement that put a smile on everyone’s face.

The architect made note of the updates with a satisfying nod. “I think we finally have a solid plan here. You’ll both be very happy.”

You leaned back in your chair, looking over at Trent who was taking pictures of the plan with his phone. “You know…” you tapped your fingers on the table, ready to egg him on from all the terrible design ideas he had. “I could probably just buy you out of your contract with how much money I make now from Rêveur. Then you wouldn’t need a gym at all..”

Trent shook his head, laughing at you. “You think you’re that rich, huh?”

“Baby…” you grinned smugly. “I know I am.”

He laughed, reaching to hold your hand. “Good thing I’m with you then. Got a sugar mama already in case shit goes south.”

“Absolutely the fuck not” you argued back while the architect packed up his things.

When the meeting wrapped, you looked over plans one last time, imagining what it would look like when it was finally done. It wasn’t just any house anymore. This was a home – yours, his, and maybe someday, a little more.

Another night on a full moon, you and Trent found yourselves at Lovebirds – a favorite escape whenever Trent managed to carve free time out of his busy schedule. But eventually, going there turned into a monthly ritual. The restaurant was silent except for the occasional clink of a pan in the kitchen. Trent booked it out just for the two of you and your favorite chef who made you her official guinea pigs for experimental dishes she wanted to add to the menu.

“Okay, lovebirds” she called from the kitchen, her voice carried over your date night playlist you asked her to play over the sound system. “You’re on dish duty tonight. You can’t keep getting off this easily if you’re going to keep me here all night. I don’t care if he’s a footballer.”

You smirked at Trent as the chef appeared with a tray of ingredients. “Think you can handle it, T? Or are you going to burn something again?”

“First of all, that was ONE time. You can’t blame me for that, the oven timer was way off.”

The chef laughed while setting the tray down. “The oven timer was fine, Trent. You were just too busy staring at Y/N to notice your soufflé collapsing and burning to a crisp.”

You laughed loudly, watching Trent shake his head. He wouldn’t admit it was his fault, but he was supposed to be on oven duty that night. “She’s lying” he said while nudging your knee under the table.

“She’s not” you teased, standing up to pull him with you to the open kitchen. “Let’s see if you can redeem yourself baby.” The chef handed you each a spoon and started yelling instructions like you were both her actual employees, though she wasn’t being all that serious and was more amused than anything. The night’s experiment was a roasted aubergine spread with pomegranate molasses.

“Mix it slowly Y/N” the chef instructed. “And Trent, chop those herbs really fine. No big chunks…got it?”

“Yes, Chef” you both said in unison as you got to work. You were concentrating, but when you eyed Trent’s attempts at chopping the herbs ‘fine’, you giggled. “T, those aren’t fine. You barely chopped those.”

He held up his uneven pile of herbs. “I did chop them. It’s….rustic. You’ll love it.” 

“It’s lazy” you retorted while reaching over to take the knife from him. “Here, I’ll show–”

Before you had a chance to finish your sentence, Trent snatched the spoon from your bowl and dipped it into the aubergine spread you were mixing after quickly adding the herbs. “T! That’s not ready yet!” 

Trent couldn’t care any less and popped the spoon into his mouth, humming dramatically. “Nah, it’s good. Perfect even. Probably because I chopped the herbs.” You groaned but couldn’t keep the smile off your face as you swatted his arm. The chef laughed from the other side of the counter, muttering under her breath about how hopelessly in love the two of you were.

A few minutes later, you leaned over to taste the spread, licking the side of your spoon and catching some of the sauce on your lip without realizing it. Trent noticed instantly and leaned in close with a playful look in his eyes. 

“Don’t move” he whispered, brushing his thumb over your lip.

You froze and your eyes snapped to him as he leaned in and kissed the corner of your mouth, very intentionally. When he pulled back, he swept his tongue across his lips like he was savoring the taste.

“What was that for?” you asked a little breathier than intended.

“You had sauce on your lip” Trent said nonchalantly, going back to his chopping like nothing happened.

You frowned, touching your lip. “No, I didn’t.”

He smirked without looking up. “Yeah.. you did.”

The chef yelled from the other side of the kitchen to interrupt your little moment. “If you two are done flirting now, I’d like to eat before the next full moon!” You smiled, turning back to the spread while Trent was still smirking with his eyes dancing over to yours every couple of minutes. By the time you sat down to eat, the aubergine spread was perfect, even with all the distractions. The chef declared it her new favorite and sent you home with a jar of it as a thank you for being her “favorite disaster couple.”

All the memories you spent with Trent stayed fresh in your mind, but time waited for no one, and before you knew it – Camille’s wedding day was here. There were months of planning, fittings, reasoning with her through bridezilla meltdowns, and trying to talk her out of a custom drone show for the occasion. When you finally arrived at the countryside venue, you had to admit her and Jules really outdid themselves.

As the maid of honour, you stood by Camille’s side through every meticulously timed minute of the ceremony, dressed in an elegant sage gown – because apparently laurel wasn’t the move anymore. You focused on Camille for the most part, but you felt the unmistakable pull from Trent’s presence somewhere in the crowd of people. You didn’t dare look at him directly, but you could feel his eyes on you like a magnet. Having Trent there didn’t make you as nervous, even as Camille whispered a frantic “don’t cry or you’ll make me cry and our pictures will be ruined” under her breath. 

You were a crier at weddings. 

A big one.

The ceremony moved in slow motion as every vow and violin string stretched the minutes. You were so focused on not crying that by the time Camille and Jules finally kissed and the applause came, you let out a deep breath and caught yourself glancing toward Trent for the first time. He wasn’t clapping; his hands were resting in his lap, but his face held a certain look of love that made you want to be next to him immediately. The entire time he was never focused on Camille and Jules – his eyes were on you.

Hours later, the reception party popped off with a bang. Drinks were flowing in every corner and people on the dance floor were having the time of their lives rapping along to a Kendrick Lamar song Jules just had to have the DJ play. You successfully delivered your speech afterwards with a little liquid courage and managed to not trip over your words or burst into tears which was a win in itself. At some point, Camille insisted on you joining the bouquet toss despite not wanting to participate at all. You were drunk off your ass and too busy trying to act as normal as possible. When she threw it you weren’t even paying attention. One minute you were laughing at something Jules’ cousin said, and the next – the bouquet smacked you in the chest before you even had time to realize what was happening, catching it in your arms instinctively. Everyone in the reception area cheered for you and Camille squealed from across the room.

“It’s a signnn!” she yelled while clapping, which sobered you up instantly.

“Of course this would only happen to me” you muttered under your breath, trying to hide the embarrassment you felt from all the attention. People at the wedding knew you and Trent were exes at one point, but no one but a few knew you had been back together for a long while. You were hoping no one would catch on.

Later, you found Trent grinning ear to ear while sitting at a table off to the side in a quiet corner. “Didn’t know you were so competitive” he teased as you sat down beside him.

“I wasn’t even trying!” you argued while holding the bouquet up. “This thing attacked ME. Not the other way around.”

“Yeah, sure...” he dragged the words out with a sly smirk. “The bouquet jumped out of Camille’s hands and landed in yours. Unless you have powers like Matilda, I don’t know about that, baby.” You rolled your eyes because that’s exactly what happened, but then you started laughing – courtesy of the champagne you had in your other hand.

The night kept going until you and Trent ended up on the balcony in the cool night air. The venue’s garden stretched out below, bathed in the moonlight as you leaned against the railing. Trent was next to you, nursing his own glass of champagne because he was way too drunk for his own good.

“You know what this means now, right?” he asked, keeping his eye on you.

“What means what?” You squinted at him in confusion.

“The bouquet” he gave you a pointed look. “You caught it, so now I have to marry you.”

You snorted, turning to face him fully. “So that’s how this works? A bridal bouquet decides my entire future?”

“Tradition is tradition.” Trent set his champagne down on a decorative table and drunkenly dropped to one knee.

“T..what are you doing?” you asked, laughing as he grabbed your hand and kissed it.

“Fulfilling our destiny” he slurred, holding your hand up like he was ready to decorate it with an invisible ring. “Y/N, will you –”

“Get up!” you cut him off, laughing so hard you could barely breathe. “Baby, you’re sooo drunk right now.”

“Drunk words are sober thoughts” He dropped his voice as he stood up to slide his free arm around your waist while the other still held on to your hand.

“You’re going to be embarrassed when I tell you about this tomorrow morning” you giggled, tilting your head a little as his lips drunkenly trailed your skin with soft, lazy kisses.

“You have no idea” he kissed your neck again, but this time his next words were very slurred and too indecipherable. “I’m planning it all right now and you have no idea.”

A couple months later, Trent sat at Camille’s dining table, resting his hands on both sides of a small custom box he couldn’t stop messing with. Camille was sitting in her chair drinking a smoothie filled with vitamins now that her wine drinking days were temporarily retired. “I can’t believe you’re finally going to ask her. I didn’t have that on my bingo card this year” she teased while tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “The man who takes forever to make decisions is finally going to propose to my best friend?” 

Trent leaned back in the chair, running a hand down his face in annoyance. “Are you going to help me or just chat shit the whole time I’m here?”

“Both” Camille replied frankly, smirking and folding her arms. “Why do you look so nervous?”

Trent hesitated while tapping his fingers on the table. “I’m scared shitless. What if she’s not ready?”

Camille laughed as she took another small sip of her smoothie. “If you wait until she’s completely ready you’ll be proposing when you’re both dead. Y/N is never going to give you a sign that says ‘hey i’m ready now’. But I’m sure she’ll say yes..I’ve seen her Pinterest boards.”

“Pinterest? She has wedding stuff saved?”

Camille nodded. “She’s fully planned out your lives for the next 5 years. Just don’t do anything stupid like big balloons in a hotel room or writing it on a plate with chocolate. She’ll definitely say no if you do that.”

“Nah, none of that. I already planned it out.”

“Oh?” Camille inquired, leaning forward. “What’s your plan, dreamer boy?”

Trent cut his eyes at Camille as he pulled out a notebook that looked like it saw better days at some point in time. “How do you know about that name?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Camille laughed, leaning forward curiously.

Trent flipped to a page covered in lots of scribbles, some crossed out and others underlined with confirmation. “I gotta finish this fragrance she was working on when we first met,” he explained. “I want to add benzoin. It reminds me of us whenever I smell it.”

Camille smiled in awe from the amount of intention he placed in preparing this for you. “You really thought all this through, huh?”

He nodded, closing the notebook. “I need your help bottling it though. It has to be perfect for her.”

“Couldn’t you do it yourself?” she tried to tease, but her lash line was watering and threatening to spill over.

“Nah, not me. I want it to be right. You’re the only other person I trust with this besides her.” Trent admitted while sliding a custom box toward her. When Camille opened it, there were three cutouts, each engraved with celestial symbols – the sun, moon, and an eclipse. Trent carefully placed a bottle of Rêveur into the sun’s slot, then he placed a bottle of Vanille Étoilée he took from your personal collection in the moon’s cut out. Trent handed Camille a third bottle he designed for the new fragrance.

“It’s called Serendipité,” he added in a low tone.

Camille traced the bottle’s engraving with her thumb and then looked up at Trent. “And where is all of this happening?”

“Maui” Trent answered quickly. “Long flight but it’ll be worth it for her.”

Camille cocked her eyebrow. “That’s super far...why Maui?”

Trent rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a long winded breath. “It’s the best place on earth for us to watch the sun set and the moon rise. And it’s calm. No one will bother us there.”

Camille blinked a few times as her eyes filled with tears. She sniffed, waving her hands in front of her face like it would stop her tears from spilling over.

“Whoa..what did I say?” Trent asked, confused at why she suddenly broke into tears. 

Camille dabbed at her eyes, sighing with a watery laugh. “I’m fine. It’s just.. I’ve never seen this part of your relationship with her. You’re so nervous and thoughtful about it and it’s–” She paused, biting her lip as another wave of tears erupted. “She’s so happy Trent. And I’m so glad you both finally got it right. That’s all. Don’t mind me.”

“Camille…”

“Don’t” she pointed at him through her tears. “Do not make me cry any more than I already am. I’m all over the place right now. Just take care of her okay? You already are, but keep it up.”

Trent nodded, giving Camille a side hug. “Always.” Camille took a deep breath, wiping away the rest of her tears as she took the bottle and added the last note. “And make sure her nails are done before you ask or she’s going to kill you.” 

Trent laughed, reaching for the box as Camille slid the finished bottle across the table. “Got it. Thanks for the heads up.” He placed the final bottle into its spot in the box. Camille absentmindedly placed a hand over the small bump appearing on her stomach, hesitating before she finally spoke up.

“You two can’t keep going on holiday around the world like this. I’m gonna need my best friend for moral support and both of you as babysitters a few months from now.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Just focus on your proposal, dreamer boy” Camille cut him off with a smile, still protectively cradling her small baby bump.

--

As time ticked by, you got closer to your forever, but you would have never guessed the way it came.

Trent insisted on pampering you one day, so you sat in the nail salon, scrolling through your phone for nail ideas as Ezzie gandered at the wall of polishes. She was always quicker than you when it came to choosing – you could sit there for hours trying to choose between two options. Which was why you were still sitting with sample swatches fanned out in front of you, paralyzed by indecision.

“I don’t think you should go with summer colors” Ezzie broke through the tip taps of you on your phone. She squinted at one of the options in front of her.

“What? Why not? You told me summer pastels were in right now!” You held up the sample swatches so she could see them. “You don’t like any of these? What about ‘Sucre Dreamer’? That’s a cute nail color!”

Ezzie made a face. “I mean it is cute...but I think you should try something different.” She wanted to throw you off as much as possible so you wouldn’t suspect anything. “Try this one instead.” She grabbed a bottle of polish from the wall, a soft nude that complimented your skin tone well. She flipped the bottle over to show the name, making her face light up. “It’s called ‘Forever and After’. That’s so fitting.”

“Fitting for what? A wedding I’m not having?”

“Nooooo...who said anything about a wedding? That’s madness…” she wanted to sway you away from any sort of engagement or wedding talk. “But I think it’ll look amazing on you. Just trust me on this.”

You looked at her skeptically, but eventually handed the bottle to the nail tech, “Fine but if I hate it, you’re never picking my nail colors again.”

Ezzie sat back down next to you, crossing her legs and smiling while the nail tech added the color to your nails. “You’re gonna love it.”

The color was perfect once it was finally finished, and you weren’t deeping the name like your sister originally thought you would, thankfully. When you stepped out of the salon with Ezzie, you checked your phone. “Trent’s picking us up for brunch at Lovebirds,” you told Ezzie while checking the time. Just as you were about to ring him to let him know you were ready, another car pulled up and the window rolled down to reveal Jude’s smiling face, but he was in the driver’s seat this time.

“Ladies..”

“About damn time! You’re late!” Ezzie announced with an annoyed tone as she hopped into the passenger seat. She leaned over, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Did you get everything? Did you get their luggage?”

Jude nodded with a grin and you squinted at them in confusion. “Uh...what is going on here?”

“Nothing.” Jude got out of the car, opening the door to the back seat to let you in. “Hop in, passenger princess.” He couldn’t wait to use that against you. You rolled your eyes while sliding into the back seat, checking your phone for any texts from Trent, but there weren’t any. “I thought we were going to brunch?”

“We’re taking a little detour..” Jude confessed, driving farther and farther away from the restaurant.

“A detour to where exactly??” you asked, peering out the window in confusion. “I really don’t like surprises.”

Ezzie shifted her body to look at you in the backseat, smiling eagerly. “Well you’re going to love this surprise. Promise. Just hang tight.” Before you knew it, you arrived at the airport. From the distance, you could see Camille’s family jet in the private terminal gearing up for the runway, with Ziggy and Trent standing on one side, while Camille was standing on the opposite side, wearing a sundress that showed off her growing bump while she waved toward you enthusiastically. 

“Camilleee!” you squealed, running over to her to give her a hug. “Oh my days, you’re actually the cutest pregnant person ever for someone who swore up and down they were never having kids. You look gorgeous girl!”

“You next” Camille teased while hugging you back, but then she pulled away with a gasp, pressing her hand into her belly. “Oh! She’s kicking me. See? She agrees with me...she wants someone to play with when she’s out of here.”

You laughed, shaking your head no while waving your hand around. “Umm.. I think I’ll take a rain check on that for now.” You looked around, watching as Jude brought luggage to the jet. You glanced at Camille, then at Trent and the twins who weren’t offering any type of answer or explanation for why everyone was at the airport. “Seriously..what’s going on? I feel like everyone knows except for me..”

Ziggy, Trent, and Jude exchanged some looks while dapping each other up, covering their mouth with their hands while they talked in low voices you couldn’t hear. You looked back at Camille and Ezzie, waiting for some sort of an answer but both of them just grinned, gesturing for you to hop on the plane. Ziggy stood next to Trent, slapping a hand on his shoulder. “Good luck, bro.”

Jude chimed in, throwing in wise words for one of his best mates. “Don’t fuck up and trip over your words. Just say it from the heart, that’s better than trying to memorize any speech.” 

After a few more words of encouragement from Jude, Trent walked up the steps, sitting next to you with a huge, but very nervous grin plastered across his face. You looked at him as the jet’s engines came to life, jetting down the runway to carry you off to the little town of Lahaina, meaning ‘cruel or merciless sun’ in Hawaiian, because no matter the weather, the sun would always find a way to shine there.

“Where are we going?” you asked Trent as the jet climbed higher into the sky.

“Anywhere” he replied simply, kissing your temple.

The private flight from England to Hawaii consisted of roughly 15 hours of watching the clouds in the sky until everything became endlessly blue beneath the plane. At some point, exhaustion took over and you drifted in and out of sleep against Trent’s shoulder. By the time the plane began its descent, you were so disoriented you didn’t know if it was morning or evening when Trent finally woke you up. You stepped out of the plane and into the warm Hawaiian breeze. The air felt sweet, carrying notes of saltwater and blooming plumeria and hibiscus flowers. The sun was beaming down, warming your skin in seconds as it casted it’s rays of sunshine over the island. Trent held your hand, leading you to the car as you took in the way the Hawaiian sun made his skin glow golden.

“T...why are we in Hawaii right now?” you asked while stepping into the car. “You didn’t tell me we were going on holiday again! Please, pleaseee tell me you didn’t pack my suitcase?? Oh my god...no.”

Trent laughed, hopping into the driver’s seat while starting the car. “Nah, that was all Ezzie and Camille.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, clutching your heart as he started the drive. You flipped between different radio stations until you found one playing a song called Saltwater Sweetness by Kolohe Kai, which seemed to fit the mood of the Pacific stretching out, sparkling underneath the sunlight on one side of the island while surfers held surfboards while running to the ocean. There were cars pulled off the road at random, passengers either chasing swells or snapping pictures of the scenery. Elevated greenery and low hanging clouds clinging to the mountains were on the other side of the island, painting a beautiful picture just below the blue sky. Banyan trees lined the streets for patches of shade over the roads as you took in the sacredness of the land. “This is breathtaking. It’s so pretty here.” you sighed in amazement, rolling your window down to let the wind breeze through the car.

Trent glanced at you quickly, mainly trying to keep his eyes on the road because there was nothing to save you if he happened to get distracted. “Wait until you see where we’re staying.”

As you drove from the north side of the island to the west, you pulled over at a local roadside stand from the smells of fresh banana bread wafting through the window. You followed Trent hand in hand to meet an older woman behind the stand who had dark hair that was beginning to silver.

“Aloha!” She greeted you with a warm, welcoming smile.

“Aloha,” you shyly replied, glancing at the loaves neatly wrapped in rows on display. “This smells so amazing, we had to stop for some.”

“Mahalo (thank you)” the woman gave you another smile, more weary this time. “Been selling here for years. It helps keep me busy.”

Trent picked up one of the loaves, juggling it in his hands, genuinely curious. “You make all of this yourself?”

“Every batch” she nodded proudly. “I used to sell from my house but the Lahaina fires took my house with it. So now I’m here as long as I can be.”

“I’m sorry to hear that..” Trent replied apologetically.

Your heart fell to your stomach. You knew exactly what that felt like. You caught a QR code taped to the side of the stand but then your eyes drifted to a teenage girl off to the side, behind the stand watching over two younger kids while they kicked a ball around. The girl looked up at you and gave you a faint smile with heavy eyes. You eyed the QR code again, nudging Trent gently to catch his attention too. Once he noticed, he pulled out his phone without another word and scanned the code, entering a large sum. He turned the screen toward the woman and her hand flew to her chest when she read the number he entered.

“Ke Akua pu (bless), thank you,” she whispered in a trembling voice. “You didn’t have to–”

“It’s nothing,” Trent interrupted in sincerity, but also with a cheeky wink. “Just paying for our banana bread. I bet it tastes as good as it smells. Thank you for this.”

“Better” she replied more steadier. “Aloha ‘oe (bye, much love to you). Be safe and remember to leave nothing but your footprints! Respect the āina (land)”

You and Trent headed back to the car, fighting for pieces of banana bread that tasted even more amazing than the smell of it, which was already hard to beat. When you finally arrived at the hotel, you were beyond tired. You dragged to your suite with tired footsteps, smelling the faint scent of plumeria in the air. When Trent opened the door you wanted to plop down on the bed immediately, but you walked over to peer out the windowed door of the large balcony, catching glimpses of the outdoor lobby below that had a lush gardens, oasis pools, koi ponds, flamingos, and was steps away from a breathtaking beach.

“Do you want to check out the beach?" Trent asked, pulling his shirt over his head.

You glanced at your phone to check the time and groaned. “It’s nearly three in the morning back home. I’m so tired, T. Bed now..beach tomorrow.”

After freshening up, you both flopped onto the huge bed, falling asleep before the sun set. The next morning was spent at the beach after a short walk and you saw a local vendor selling Hawaiian shave ice. You ordered a pineapple, coconut and banana shave ice, insisting it had to be the best one, but you forgot how strong banana flavored things could be. Trent went for a passionfruit, orange, mango, and guava flavored shave ice. You took your spoon and tried to steal some of Trent’s but he pushed his shave ice away protectively.

“What are you doing?” he laughed, turning away from you when you attempted to steal some again. “Baby, you have your own!”

“But yours looks better,” you whined, leaning over to sneak some onto your spoon anyway. He shook his head, switching his flavor for yours because he knew once you tasted it you’d end up eating the rest of his anyway.

You spent most of the day relaxing until a big family loudly disrupted the normal sounds of the beach. You nudged Trent and pointed further down the beach at a family in all white matching outfits. The mum had a large vlogging camera in her hand, yelling at her kids to look natural while they posed for what was supposed to be an ‘unstaged’ video clip.

“Where do you think they’re from?” you asked, giggling at the mum’s attempts to wrangle five kids into one video shot.

“California. Gotta be” Trent answered without a doubt in his mind. “Those are influencers.”

You watched attentively as one of their kids stomped away from the mum after she yelled at him for not smiling enough. “No, that’s definitely Utah. Matching outfits, exactly five kids, everyone’s blonde, and they’re rich. Those are Mormon vloggers on holiday.”

Trent raised his sunglasses and tilted his head to look at you, squinting from the sunlight. “Yeah? What do you think their channel name is?”

You laughed and thought for a second. “Probably something really corny like LuckySevenFam”

The longer you people watched, the crazier the family became. You watched them litter the beach with random snack rubbish, try to touch baby sea turtles, and one of their many kids complained they were bored despite being in literal paradise. Once the mum finally got everyone in line for the picture, a rogue wave splashed onto their blinding white outfits making the kids scream, the dad shook his head, and the mum was fuming from her perfect shot being ruined. You turned to Trent with a look of disgust on your face as you continued eating the shave ice he traded with you. “Please tell me we’ll never turn into whatever that is.”

Trent tilted your head towards him with his hand and leaned in to kiss you. “Never.” When you finished the shave ice, you and Trent got up to throw it in the bin, picking up the family’s leftover snack rubbish in an effort to leave nothing but footprints behind. After finally leaving the beach for the day, you and Trent headed back to the hotel to get ready to catch the sun set on Mount Haleakala. While Trent was in the bathroom, he discreetly pulled out Serendipité and sprayed it on his pulse points before putting it back in its place in the box. When he came back out, you smelled it immediately and thought for a second, trying to figure out why it smelled familiar even though you never smelled it until now.

“T..what are you wearing?” you asked while spraying a perfume from one of Camille’s collections that she packed for you. “That doesn’t smell like Rêveur or anything I’ve made.”

Trent fidgeted around with a bag to hide the box, then he looked up and smirked at you. “Guess.”

“I don’t know..”

“Your guess is as good as mine then. I don’t know either.” he replied, taking your hand and heading out the door. That irritated you immediately and you rolled your eyes, annoyed while heading out.

The drive up Haleakala felt like a dream being painted in motion. The sky that was once vibrantly blue, shifted into soft pastels. Streaks of lavender and orange painted across the horizon with chunks of white clouds blending into the scene. The higher you drove up, the cooler the air got as the towns of Maui disappeared into the pillowy clouds that were now sitting below the car now that you were nearing the top. Trent’s hands tapped chaotically against the steering wheel and he was quiet and fidgety. Every now and then he would glance at you and smile. You figured maybe jet lag or the altitude was messing with his nerves, or maybe the winding roads leaving no room for any distractions. For a second you thought to yourself:

Wouldn’t it be funny if he proposed here?

But the thought quickly erased from your mind when you noticed how quiet Trent was.

“What are you thinking about?” You finally asked, turning to him. “You’re acting so strange.”

Trent’s fingers stopped tapping the wheel and he laughed, still keeping his eyes on the road. “Baby we’re one wrong move from falling off this volcano. I’m just concentrating on the drive.”

You crossed your arms, unhappy with his answer as you looked out the window at the landscape. Trent knew you were irritated with him and spoke up again, “I’ll tell you soon, Y/N. Just wait.”

“Wait for what?” you pushed with attitude, but his focus went back to the road and the conversation ended there. When you finally arrived at the top and stepped out of the car, the view took your breath away. The sky transformed to a vibrant orange color melting into deep shades of pink, blue, and violet. The doughy clouds stretched below and seemed close enough to touch and in that moment it was just you, Trent, and heaven on earth.

“I’ll never be able to describe this in words. It’s so beautiful up here” you whispered, barely audible from being so awe stricken at the view displayed and ever changing in front of you.

“Yeah. It is.” Trent spoke just as softly, but he wasn’t looking at the view at all – he was looking at you. He reached into a bag and pulled out an engraved box. The second you saw it you eyed him with a curious brow. 

“What’s this?” you asked, running your nude colored nails over the box when he handed it to you.

“Open it” he urged, stepping closer to you. “That should answer all your questions so I can finally ask mine.” You unclasped the magnet top from the box and recognized the two fragrances you cherished so much, but then you saw a third you didn’t recognize. The name Serendipité was scripted across the custom label and you pulled it out to bring it to your nose. The scent smelled exactly how you felt with Trent at this moment. Like a beaming sun in the heavens of earth with an ever changing backdrop.

“Trent..is this...?” you trailed off, unable to form words from the beautifully overwhelming view and such an intentional, loving gesture from your soon to be fiancé.

“I finished it,” he answered quietly. “You said you wanted it to feel like us..so I finished it. I wanted it to be perfect for you baby.”

Tears began spilling from your face and you shook your head, way too overwhelmed but very much in love. “It’s perfect, T. It smells just like–”

“Us.” he finished for you, stepping closer.

You were still holding onto the bottle, trying to process everything when you noticed him shift. Trent’s eyes reflected the sky through his pupils and by the time you snapped out of it, he dropped to one knee. You rolled your eyes in disbelief. “T..no. Get up. This isn’t funny anymore and it’s getting old.”

He laughed and took your hand in his. “Baby I can’t get up this time.”

“Wh-what?” you stuttered, glancing around but there was no one else in the area besides the two of you, the sun setting, and the moon peeking slowly over a cloud.

Ohmygod.

Trent took a deep breath and then began speaking. “From the day I met you, I knew you were something special and worth getting to know more. I’ll never regret sitting next to you that day. You changed my whole world, you made me realize things about myself I never thought possible. Every day I get to wake up and see your beautiful face is a day I’ll never take for granted ever again. You mean the world to me, YN. The time I spent away from you was the lowest I ever felt, and still somehow the universe led me right back to you. I never feel like I have enough time with you, but I want eternity with you. I bought this ring the same day you sent it to me because I knew I never wanted to spend my life with anyone else but you forever, and even after. Will you marry me, Y/N?”

When you saw him holding the ring in his hand you gasped, covering your mouth with your free hand as your other hand began shaking in his hand from excitement and pure adrenaline.

“Yes. Oui. Si. Ja.......How many more do I have to say before you put the ring on me?” you sniffled, impatiently waiting for him to slide it on your finger. Trent’s hands shook when he pulled the ring out to slide it onto your ring finger. He stood up, pulling you into his arms as you buried your face into his neck while still crying. He kissed your temple, your lips, and anywhere else he could reach.

“I love you, Y/N” he whispered against your skin.

“I love you too. I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” you replied with a kiss on his lips, both of you turning to watch the sky go from pastels to a twinkling night sky bathed in the moon’s bright light.

Later that night after a celebratory dinner, you and Trent walked back to the hotel room, but every few steps he would stop just to pull you close to him and kiss your neck, your shoulder and whisper ‘I love you’ in your ear.

“I can’t wait to get back to the room” he whispered into your ear in lust filled anticipation. His hand moved to your waist, squeezing the side of your hip. “You have no idea what calling you my fianceé is doing to me right now.”

You bit your lip, feeling butterflies swoon around in your stomach as his fingers continued to brush against the fabric of your dress.

“T..” you whispered when he nipped against your jaw. “We’re in the middle of the lobby.”

“So?” He gave you a cheeky grin, looking around but it was late and mostly everyone had returned to their rooms by now. “No one’s here. And you look way too beautiful right now."

You giggled, “Baby, I’m sure they have cameras. Calm d–” Trent silenced you with a kiss, entering the lift and walking you in backwards. Once he pressed the floor button, the ride up to the suite became almost unbearable from Trent sliding his hands down your back to your ass while continuing to kiss your shoulder and neck. When the door opened, he grabbed your hand and walked quickly to your suite, fumbling with his wristband fob to open the door. The second he got it open, he led you in and spun you around, bringing his lips to yours again as he walked you backward toward the bed. “I want to taste you,” he whispered against your lips while pulling down the straps of your dress to reveal your sun kissed skin. He removed your dress in a rush before removing his own clothes and laid on the bed, pulling you on top of him with a flip over so that you were straddling his chest from behind. You looked back at him from over your shoulder, smiling while biting down on your lip.

“You’re not shy,” he teased in a rough voice. “C’mere and sit, baby. I want all of you.”

You slowly lowered yourself on him but he had no patience and gripped your waist to pull you down to meet his tongue. Trent hungrily slurped over your pussy, jetting his tongue out to flick against your clit in a steady motion. Your head fell down while you slowly stroked his shaft up and down, feeling him stiffen against your palm. You peppered soft kisses on the tip of his dick and then wrapped your mouth around him, making him groan and thrust up a little.

“Fuck. Keep doing that.” he groaned against your skin before going back to lapping at you like he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. You tried to push the intense feeling aside and focus on the way he twitched every time you massaged his balls while adding suctioned pressure on his cock. Both of you were battling to see who could make the other crash over the edge first, so you increased the suction and took him further in your mouth with tears obstructing your vision from your gag reflex as your head bobbed up and down. You moaned against his dick to drive him crazy and Trent’s hands gripped your thighs tighter while his tongue moved against your clit until you couldn’t think straight anymore. You thought you were winning when he let out a familiar sound that meant he was close, but he shifted gears and started fingering you while he attacked your clit. 

“Don’t stop, right there” you gasped, losing your rhythm as pleasure took over your body. Your hips rocked against his face needily, your moans loud. “T-Trent.. I’m – fuck, I’m–”

“Let me taste it, baby” he commanded, muffled against your skin while still lapping you up. “Cum for me.”

A cry tore through your throat as your body shook against him. You clenched your thighs around his head while he held you down with one hand, and raked his hands over your back to soothe you as you came down from your orgasm with the other hand. You had no time to recover before he flipped you back over to face him and gripped you to lift you up and position you above his cock so you could sink down on it.

“Stay on top for me?" he cooed while running his hands down your thighs to make you shiver. “I want to watch you.” You nodded and shifted to bend your knees on either side of him, bracing yourself against his chest as you bounced on top of him, filling the room with moans, gasps, and wet squelches. Trent’s hands ran up your body, trailing over your nipples and pinching them enough to make you whimper.

“So damn beautiful” he affirmed, never taking his eyes off you. “Look at my fianceé taking me so well. You feel so good baby... keep going.”

Your legs started to shake from the burn you were feeling from trying to keep up the pace. “T…I can’t.”

“Nah, keep going. I’ll help you.” Trent gripped your hips and lifted you up to thrust up into you, making you scratch at his chest from the deep strokes. When he sensed you were too tired to keep going, he pulled you to the edge of the bed and shifted your legs to the side, hiking one knee up to your chest for a fun angle. 

“Fuck” you moaned with a jaw drop when he slid into you. The snug fit paired with the depth was almost too much to bear, making you whine his name. He grinned and leaned down to kiss you before pulling back and increasing his pace. “You like the way I fuck you?” he asked, giving you deep strokes paired with nipple play.

“Yesss,” you gasped, gripping his forearms while your body arched up to him. “You fuck me so good, T.”

“You’re so pretty like this” he locked his eyes on yours, licking his lips. “All mine. Just like this. I’m gonna make you feel like this whenever you need it, beautiful.” You squeezed his dick with your muscles from his words and his face twisted in pleasure with a clenched jaw, heavy breathing, and concentration in his brows. Watching him lose himself inside you made you wetter as he thrusted harder.

“Babyyy” you moaned while dragging out the word in an attempt to warn him you were about to orgasm.

“I know,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you again. He pulled at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue inside your mouth, breathing and groaning between kisses as he filled you up with white ropes of cum. The warm filling made you feel full and tipped you over, causing your pussy to squeeze his cock with a strong grip but he didn’t stop moving and continued to roll his hips up against yours until you were both thoroughly satisfied. You grinned into another kiss when he whispered “I love you” against your lips, eventually echoing the love back – full of emotion.

“I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, T.”

The days spent in Hawaii after the engagement blurred into a montage of sun soaked heaven: lazy mornings spent walking the beach to catch the sun rise, hiking trails that twisted through the lush greenery of the island, the sticky sweetness of Hawaiian malasada donuts on your fingers, sipping mai tais with sand still clinging to your toes at a beach bar, helicopter rides to get a view of the whole island, and sunset sails while watching cliff divers leap from Black Rock at Ka’anapali Beach as a treasured nightly island ritual. Your time there floated through like a dream and before you knew it, you were back in England.

One night, you heard the patter of rain against the window while you and Trent laid in bed. He was cuddled up against your stomach with his eyes closed as you massaged circles into his scalp, making him hum.

“You okay?” you asked in a soft voice under the dim lighting.

“Head’s still banging” he spoke low, wincing from his exhaustion and dull aches. “This feels good though. Thank you, baby. I might just fall asleep right here.”

You smiled and leaned forward to place a kiss on top of his head. Your gaze drifted over to the bedside table where the photobook he created for your first anniversary lay. It was slightly worn on the spine from being opened and closed so much. You reached over to pick it up carefully, flipping through the pages while keeping one hand on Trent’s head to keep massaging it. You flipped through until you reached the photo of Ziggy and Trent smiling brightly in front of the camera while you and Ezzie were in the background, playing with daisy crowns. You shook your head, laughing softly.

“What’s funny?” Trent mumbled against your pajama top.

“Nothing” you answered quietly, turning the book slightly so he could see the picture you were looking at. “I just can’t believe you’ve been here this whole time and we never realized it until years later. It’s mad.” Trent cracked one eye open, glancing at the picture with a sleepy grin.

“Yeah? Would you have given me a chance when we were kids?” he asked, curiously.

“Mmm..I don’t know. Something about seeing you at the park used to annoy me…still does actually, but I can live with it now.”

Trent laughed, wincing a little from his headache. “Baby, that’s fucked up. I thought you were cute but Ziggy would never tell me anything about you. You were kind of weird though so maybe I wouldn’t give you a chance either.”

You giggled, flicking the back of his head with your thumb and index finger. “Careful. I’ll make this headache worse than it already is.”

“You give me enough of them already with the wedding planning” he bantered, shifting around to make himself more comfortable. “You’re lucky I love you.” His words trailed off as he fell asleep, and you continued to flip through the pages. Eventually you closed the book and placed it back on the bedside table. You lifted your left hand up to catch the sparkle of the diamond against the dim lighting. 

None of this was luck.

It was serendipity – a chance encounter that turned into forever and after.

[remnantproduction]

Astrology observation

- Thinking of lessons and different points in the chart. With the IC/MC axis representing the higher self and lower self polarity.

IC being the higher self (where you are pushed to for growth).

MC being the lower self (where you are pulled away from/indoctrinated/ what you succumb to time and time again).

With applying these themes to the signs in my life I noticed a pattern of deficiency that always comes back to self. My own Leo IC/Aquarius MC relating to validation and acceptance. I value and accept the world but don't receive it and don't put myself to be in spaces where I am seen. In fact I accept the world as is and reject myself. So "who is going to value me?" or "Who is going to accept me?"

With a Cancer IC/Capricorn MC, I take care of everyone else, "who is going to nurture me?" I know a couple people with this placement who do not pour into themselves but will never let anyone else go with an empty cup, always making sure the world is straight and putting themself as an afterthought.

Taurus IC/Scorpio MC. Desperately needing to feel stable, to be grounded and have a foundation. Wanting to be that source of stability for everyone else while simultaneously throwing themself into a void. They do not feel grounded themself. I catch and hold everyone else, "Who will be there to catch me?"

[st4rlvr]

Lost Lovers || BCN

The room was dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of my laptop screen. Chan’s face stared back at me, pixelated and exhausted. I could see the bags under his eyes even through the poor connection. It had been weeks since our last fight, but tonight was different. The weight of distance pressed on my chest like a stone I couldn’t shake off.

He was in Australia, miles and miles away, while I was stuck here in America. Time zones weren’t kind, and our conversations had dwindled from hours to mere minutes. I tried to be understanding, to be patient, but loneliness had started creeping into every corner of my life.

“You don’t even care anymore, do you?” The words burst from my mouth before I could stop them.

Chan’s brows furrowed. “What are you talking about? Of course, I care—”

“No, you don’t! You barely call, and when you do, you’re tired or distracted. I’m tired too, Chan! Tired of being the only one holding this together!” My voice cracked, anger and sadness blending into one overwhelming wave.

He opened his mouth to respond but then closed it, jaw tightening. He just sat there, taking it, as if my words were fists beating against him.

“Say something!” I screamed, tears streaming down my face. “Fight for us, Chan! Do something!”

Silence.

That was it. I snapped. “Forget it. Just forget it.” I slammed the laptop shut, cutting off his stunned face. My chest heaved as I stood there in the deafening quiet.

I packed his things in a box that night. The letters he’d sent me, the hoodie that still smelled faintly like him, and every little trinket that reminded me of the boy I had once believed was my forever. I left the box in my closet as if by getting rid of it, I could rid myself of the ache in my heart.

But the ache never left.

Years passed, and life moved on. At least, that’s what I told myself. I had a new boyfriend—a nice guy who made me laugh and held my hand in public. But no matter how hard I tried, nothing felt the same. His touch was warm, but it didn’t ignite that spark I once knew. His laugh was pleasant, but it didn’t make my heart race.

I’d smile at him, but deep down, I knew I was lying to myself.

On nights when the world was quiet, I’d sit by my window and pull out the letters Chan had written me. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away. His words were messy, scrawled across the pages with ink that had smudged from my tears.

“Hey, Y/N, I miss you. I miss your laugh, the way you always roll your eyes at my dumb jokes. I promise I’ll come back to you soon. Just hold on a little longer, okay? I love you.”

My fingers traced the faded lines as if I could summon him back with the touch. I had tried everything to get over him—new hobbies, new places, even a new love. But nothing filled the void he left behind.

Because the truth was simple: I never stopped loving him.

And maybe I never would.

The weight of missing Chan pressed against my chest like a permanent ache. It was relentless, creeping into every corner of my mind. I’d be at work, folding clothes at the boutique, and suddenly I’d hear his laugh echo in my head. At night, I’d lie in bed staring at the ceiling, imagining the way his hand used to brush against mine, even through a screen. It was everything I could think of, like a wound that never quite healed.

I knew there was no way of reaching out. I’d deleted his contact in a fit of anger the night I packed his things. The memory burned in my mind — my shaking fingers hovering over the delete button, the bitter taste of finality on my tongue as I pressed it. There was no backup, no saved messages. He was gone.

And he was across the world in Australia, so it wasn’t like I could bump into him on the street. He was living a life I knew nothing about now — probably surrounded by people who laughed at his jokes and got to see that shy smile of his every day. Maybe he had someone new, someone who didn’t scream at him or walk away when things got hard.

The thought twisted in my stomach, but I tried to shove it down. I had no right to feel jealous or bitter. I was the one who left.

But knowing that didn’t make it hurt any less.

The years had passed, but I never really moved on. Not in the ways that mattered. My new boyfriend was kind and stable, but he didn’t make my heart race the way Chan did. I never woke up craving his voice the way I craved Chan’s. It wasn’t fair to compare them, but I couldn’t help it.

Late at night, I’d sit by the window with those old letters, my fingers brushing over the crinkled paper. His words felt like a lifeline to a version of myself I wasn’t sure existed anymore. The girl who believed love could conquer distance, time, and even heartache.

But I wasn’t that girl anymore.

I was someone who carried the weight of missing Chan like an invisible scar — one that no one else could see but me. And deep down, I knew that no matter how many years passed, no matter how far apart we were, he would always be a part of me. The love I had for him was etched into my very bones, and no amount of time or distance could change that.

The Australian sun dipped low on the horizon, casting streaks of orange and pink across the sky. It should’ve been beautiful — something worth sitting outside and appreciating. But all I could think about was her.

Y/N.

Her name lived in my chest like a song stuck on repeat. I couldn’t shake it, no matter how many years had passed. I tried. God, I tried. Buried myself in work, spent time with friends, even went on dates when my mates convinced me to. But it was never the same. Nothing was ever the same without her.

She was gone, and I had no one to blame but myself. I’d sat there like an idiot that night, just taking it when she screamed at me. I could still hear her voice, raw and cracking under the weight of her pain.

“Say something! Fight for us, Chan!”

I hadn’t. I froze, too scared to make it worse, too stunned by the hurt in her eyes. And then she was gone.

She deleted my number — I knew because I tried to call after a week of silence, only to hear the automated voice telling me the line was disconnected. I still sent letters for a while, but they went unanswered. Eventually, I stopped trying. What was the point when she didn’t want me in her life anymore?

But I never moved on.

Tonight was one of those nights when the loneliness hit harder than usual. I sat on my bed, staring at the box I couldn’t bring myself to throw away. Inside were the pieces of our story: photos, her handwritten notes, and that bracelet she’d made me when we first started dating. The string was frayed, but I still wore it sometimes, even if it was hidden under my sleeve.

I pulled out one of her letters and unfolded it carefully, the edges soft from how often I’d read it. Her handwriting was messy but full of life, just like her.

“Hey Chan, I miss you. Like, really miss you. But I know we’ll get through this because we’re us. We always do.”

We didn’t get through it, though, did we? I let her slip through my fingers because I was too afraid to speak when it mattered.

I rubbed a hand over my face, frustration bubbling in my chest. I wanted to hear her voice again, to tell her I was sorry — for not fighting harder, for not being enough. But I was half a world away, and she had probably moved on. Maybe she had a new boyfriend who made her laugh the way I used to. The thought made my stomach twist, but I deserved it.

Still, there were nights like this when I wondered if she ever thought of me too. If she ever missed the way things were. If some part of her still loved me the way I loved her.

Because no matter how much time passed, Y/N was still the girl who held my heart. And I wasn’t sure I’d ever get it back.

The tears started slowly, hot and stinging, but then they came all at once, shaking his chest with violent sobs. Chan pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, trying to will it all away, but the pain was relentless, clawing at him from the inside. He couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He missed her. God, he missed her so much it physically hurt.

Before he could think it through, he grabbed a pen and a crumpled notebook from his nightstand. His hand shook as he flipped to a blank page. Words blurred through his tears, but he kept writing, sloppily, desperately.

Y/N,

I don’t even know if this will reach you. I don’t know if you’ll read it or if you even care to hear from me anymore. But I have to try. I need to say this.

The pen wobbled in his grip, but he gritted his teeth and kept going.

I miss you. I miss you so much it’s hard to breathe sometimes. I was stupid, Y/N. I should’ve fought harder for you. I should’ve told you how much I loved you, even when things got hard. But I didn’t, and I’ve regretted it every day since you walked out of my life.

His tears dripped onto the page, smudging the ink, but he didn’t care.

There’s no excuse for how I let us fall apart, and I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from. But I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I think I always will.

His hand faltered, the weight of the words pressing down on him. He let out a shuddering breath and scrawled a final desperate plea.

If there’s even the smallest part of you that misses me too… please write back. Please.

He dropped the pen, his chest heaving with sobs. For a moment, he just sat there, the letter shaking in his hand. Then his eyes darted to the pile of old letters she had sent him years ago. He dug through them frantically until he found an envelope with her handwriting on the front.

Her old address.

He knew it was probably useless. She might’ve moved on, might’ve moved houses, or even changed her whole life. But right now, logic didn’t matter. The ache in his chest was too raw to care about rationality.

Chan folded the letter with trembling hands, slipped it into an envelope, and scribbled her address on the front. His tears blurred the ink, but he pressed on. Sealing it shut, he pressed it against his lips for a moment, his heart racing with a fragile hope.

It was a long shot—a desperate, foolish one. But it was all he had.

And if there was even a chance, however small, that she still thought of him, it was worth it.

The box was sleek and glossy, tied with a satin ribbon that matched my dress. Inside was a necklace, shimmering under the soft candlelight of the restaurant. My boyfriend smiled across the table, waiting for my reaction. It was beautiful, expensive, and thoughtful—everything a gift should be.

But all I could do was muster a weak smile. “It’s lovely. Thank you.”

I hated how hollow my voice sounded, but I couldn’t help it. My mind wasn’t here. It was back on the porch, replaying the moment I found it.

The letter.

Chan’s handwriting was scrawled across the envelope, messy and unmistakable. I hadn’t seen it in years, but my heart knew it instantly. For a few seconds, I’d just stood there, frozen, my breath caught in my throat. My boyfriend had been waiting by the car, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.

I shoved the letter into my purse, my hands trembling, and later stuffed it deep in my dresser drawer before we left. Out of sight but never out of mind.

Now, as the waiter poured another glass of wine, I stared blankly at the flickering candle between us. My boyfriend was talking about work, some investment deal that had gone well. I nodded, pretending to listen, but the words barely registered.

All I could think about was that letter waiting at home.

What did it say? Why had he written to me after all this time? Did he miss me? Did he still love me? The questions clawed at me, making it impossible to focus.

“You okay?” my boyfriend asked, his brows furrowing in concern. “You’ve been quiet all night.”

I forced a smile. “Yeah, just tired.”

It was a lie, and we both knew it. But he didn’t press, probably chalking it up to one of those bad days. He tried to reignite the mood, telling me about a trip he wanted to plan for us, some luxurious getaway to Europe.

It should’ve excited me. It was everything most girls dreamed of—a rich, stable boyfriend who showered me with gifts and fancy dates. But all I could think about was Chan’s letter.

The dinner dragged on, each bite tasteless and heavy in my mouth. I gave short answers, barely contributing to the conversation. My hands trembled in my lap, and I had to clench them to stop the shaking.

By the time we left, I was exhausted—not from the evening, but from the war raging inside me.

As we drove home, my heart raced faster with every passing streetlight. I could barely hear the music playing in the car or my boyfriend’s voice beside me. All I wanted was to be alone, to rip open that envelope and finally see what Chan had written.

Because deep down, I already knew one thing.

That letter would change everything.

The second I shut the door behind me, I leaned against it, breathless. My heart was racing, and tears already pricked at the corners of my eyes. I could barely hear the sound of my boyfriend’s car driving away over the thundering pulse in my ears.

Chan.

That letter had been burning in the back of my mind all night, and now it was finally just me and it—no distractions, no pretending. My heels clicked against the hardwood as I sprinted to my room, my chest tightening with every step.

I yanked the drawer open and pulled out the envelope with trembling hands. His familiar, messy handwriting was scrawled across the front. Seeing it again shattered something inside me, and the tears spilled over.

I sat on the edge of my bed, my breath hitching as I carefully ripped open the envelope. The card inside was simple, but his handwriting filled the page, uneven and raw. I already knew this wasn’t going to be neat or composed—it was going to be him, every emotion laid bare.

My vision blurred, but I forced myself to focus.

“Y/N,

I don’t even know if this will reach you, but I have to try. I need to say this.

I miss you. I miss you so much that it hurts. I was stupid—so, so stupid. I should’ve fought for you, should’ve told you how much I loved you when it mattered. But I didn’t, and I’ve regretted it every day since you walked out of my life.

I don’t know if you’ve moved on. Maybe you have, and I’d understand if you hate me. But I can’t live with myself without telling you this.

I love you.

I always have, and I always will. If there’s even the smallest part of you that misses me too… please write back. Please.

-Chan.”

I pressed the letter to my chest, sobs wracking my body. His words clung to me, filling the cracks I thought had healed but never really did. I tried to tell myself I was over him. I had a new life, a new boyfriend, but none of it ever felt real. Nothing had ever filled the emptiness he left behind.

Tears blurred my vision as I reread the letter over and over, his desperate words echoing in my mind.

He still loved me.

And despite everything—the years, the silence, the heartache—I knew one thing: I still loved him too.

The letters became everything.

Every night, I’d sit by my window with a pen in hand, pouring out everything I had kept locked away for years. It was messy, honest, and raw. And Chan always wrote back. His letters were just as heartfelt, filled with stories about his life, his regrets, and how much he still thought about me.

It was like we had found each other again through ink and paper, slowly stitching back what had been torn apart.

We did this for months. Each envelope that arrived on my porch felt like a lifeline, tethering me to a happiness I thought was long gone. With every letter, my heart softened and opened in ways it hadn’t in years. Chan wasn’t just a memory anymore—he was present, real, and waiting for me.

But my relationship with my boyfriend was crumbling beneath the weight of my truth. The more I wrote to Chan, the more I saw through the cracks in what I had tried to build with someone else. His expensive gifts and polished words no longer dazzled me; they felt hollow.

The breaking point came one night when I told him it was over.

His charming facade shattered into anger. “Is this about him?” he sneered, voice sharp and bitter. “The ex you can’t seem to get over?”

I didn’t flinch. “Yes,” I said, my voice steady. “It is.”

I thought I’d feel guilty or scared, but I didn’t. There was only relief.

A week later, I found an envelope on the porch, thicker than usual. My heart raced as I tore it open. Inside was a single letter, written in his familiar handwriting.

“Y/N,

I think it’s time.

I can’t go another day without seeing you. I need to hold you, to hear your voice in person, to make up for every second we lost.

Come to me.

I booked you a ticket to Australia. It’s in this envelope. Please say yes.

Love, Chan.”

My breath caught as I pulled out the plane ticket. It was real—one-way, direct to Sydney. My hands shook, tears welling up in my eyes.

He was asking me to come back to him.

And deep down, I knew I would. I had spent years pretending to move on, but my heart had never truly left him.

It was time to go home.

The week flew by in a blur of packing, nerves, and countless restless nights. I could barely think straight as I folded clothes into my suitcase, every item packed with trembling hands. I was really doing this—I was going back to him.

My heart raced as I stood in the airport, the chaos of people moving around me barely registering. The ticket crumpled in my hand, worn from how many times I’d unfolded and checked it. My mind was spinning with questions.

What if this was a mistake?

What if I had built him up in my head all these months, only to find that we were different people now?

And yet, the thought of seeing Chan again tugged at something deep inside me, pulling me forward despite my fears.

The airplane rumbled down the runway, and as it lifted off the ground, my stomach flipped. I pressed my forehead against the window, watching the world shrink below me. My chest was tight with a mix of excitement and dread.

What did he look like now?

Had he changed?

Maybe he’d finally dyed his hair blonde like he always talked about. I smiled faintly at the thought, imagining him with golden locks and that sheepish grin he’d flash whenever he was nervous.

Did his dimples still appear when he smiled brightly? God, I hoped so. Those dimples had always been my undoing.

I wondered if he had found new dreams, new passions. If his laugh had changed or if his voice had deepened. But mostly, I wondered if his heart still beat the same way for me as it had all those years ago.

Mine hadn’t changed. It still raced at the thought of him, just as it always did.

I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to calm the frantic rhythm. Hours stretched on as clouds drifted past the window, but my thoughts never wavered from Chan.

I was going back to him—back to the boy who had once held my whole world in his hands. And no matter how much time had passed, my heart still belonged to him.

The airport was a blur as I stepped off the plane, my legs feeling like jelly as I grabbed my bag and made my way toward the terminal. The bustling noise of voices and rolling luggage was deafening, but all I could focus on was the fact that I was finally here, standing in a foreign country that felt like home now.

I scanned the crowd anxiously, hoping to spot him. Where was he?

Chan had promised me he’d be waiting, but there were so many faces, so many people—how was I supposed to find him?

I moved forward, my heart pounding harder with every step. I was so close to seeing him, but with every second that passed, the fear crept in. What if he wasn’t here? What if something had gone wrong?

Then, I saw it.

At first, I didn’t recognize him—his hair was blonde now, a color I hadn’t seen on him before. It was the first thing that threw me off. It was lighter, almost sun-kissed, and yet it somehow suited him. But then…

That smile.

There it was. That sheepish, almost nervous grin that always appeared when he was about to do something a little embarrassing, or when he knew I was looking at him and he couldn’t help but smile. His dimples appeared with the smile, and just like that, the whole world seemed to fade away.

I didn’t care that there were people everywhere, that I was in a foreign country, that I probably looked insane. Without thinking, I threw my luggage to the side and sprinted toward him.

“Chan!” I choked out, my voice trembling with emotion.

His eyes locked onto mine in an instant. For a split second, he froze, then everything seemed to click. His expression softened, and before I could even take another step, he was moving toward me too.

I didn’t even realize the tears had started to fall until I reached him. He was right there, standing in front of me, his arms wide open. I collided into him, and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed. His arms wrapped around me tightly, pulling me into his warmth, and I buried my face in his chest, crying freely.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

I pulled back just enough to look at him, my hands resting on his chest, and I laughed through my tears. “I can’t believe you actually changed your hair.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his newly dyed blonde locks. “You said you liked it, so… I thought I’d give it a shot.”

I shook my head, still laughing and crying all at once. “You look perfect,” I said, my voice thick. “You’re still you.”

Chan smiled again, that same shy, heartfelt smile. “I missed you so much, Y/N.”

The world around us felt like it disappeared. There was no airport, no time zone difference, no past years between us. It was just the two of us, together again. And in that moment, everything was right.

I smiled up at him, feeling a warmth spread through me, but then I noticed it—his eyes, glassy and glistening with unshed tears. Chan, who had always been so composed, was fighting to hold it together, his gaze shifting away from mine as he quickly wiped at his eyes.

“Hey,” I whispered, my hand reaching up to gently touch his cheek, urging him to look at me. “Chan… why are you hiding from me?”

He took a shaky breath, trying to mask the emotions threatening to spill over, but it was clear that they were too strong for him to control. “I… I didn’t think this day would ever come,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t think I would get to see you again, not after everything… after everything I put us through.”

I could feel the ache in my chest as he spoke, his pain so raw and vulnerable. The realization that he had been carrying this weight for all these years hit me hard. It wasn’t just me who had suffered—he had too.

“Chan,” I murmured, wiping away the tear that had escaped down his cheek with my thumb. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m here now. That’s all that matters.”

His shoulders trembled as he took another deep breath, fighting to compose himself. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/N. You have no idea. Every day, I thought about you… about us. And I just… I couldn’t fix it, couldn’t make things right until this moment. I was so scared you’d moved on… that you wouldn’t even remember me.”

I shook my head, my heart aching at his words. “I never moved on, Chan. I couldn’t. I was waiting for you, even when I didn’t know how to wait. And now… I’m here. We’re here.”

He finally looked at me, his eyes full of gratitude and love, but also tinged with the sorrow of lost time. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I should’ve fought harder for you. I should’ve never let you go.”

I leaned in closer, pressing my forehead to his, feeling the steady beat of his heart against mine. “We both made mistakes. But we’re here now,” I whispered back, “and we have time to make it right.”

Chan let out a soft laugh, his hand trembling as it cupped the back of my neck. “I swear, I won’t ever let you go again. I’ve learned that the hard way.”

I closed my eyes, letting his words sink in. In that moment, I felt like everything that had happened, all the years apart, had led to this—us, standing together, tears and all. And no matter what came next, I knew one thing for sure: we would face it together.

[canonkiller]

Kind Words is an incredible program but never heard of Space Mail before.

space email was like - and I'll preface this by saying I was a teenager and did not know how this kind of thing would actually function - conceptually, you'd write your message and then throw it into the void to have it delivered at some point to someone else using the page. you had no control over who your emails were sent to, when they would be sent, if they had been read, etc. you just had your inbox, which would periodically receive a random message with just the names the sender chose to include, a subject line, some text, and the date it was sent.

I found it endlessly engaging. I loved seeing what people sent out into the world. confessions, jokes, fake silly 'spam', venting about their struggles, enthusiastically talking about their new pets, updates on their day. I'd spend hours on it, writing and receiving notes just because it was possible to do so.

I heard it came back a while ago, but I haven't tried the new version as much. Had too much going on with myself to sit with that kind of thing. I don't know if it's changed! but I hope that the people who threw their thoughts into the void in the early 2010's are doing okay, now. I hope we all made it through okay.

[cheynovak]

Between Power and Freedom

Part 5

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Shurley Female character     

Summary: Y/N, the ambitious daughter of a powerful CEO, grapples with her father's choices, while she secretly takes a job with Dean Winchester, the rugged CEO of a rival company. Sparks fly between Y/N and Dean as they navigate their growing attraction amid corporate rivalry and family pressure.

Warnings: This story will contain parts that are 18+!

English is not my first language 

*Please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

I knew I had to come up with something soon before my dad lost his shit. It was only a matter of time before he started demanding answers about my progress with Dean and Winchester industries.

During our last phone call, I had explained how unstable Dean's life was with Jo—how their fights seemed to escalate and how much tension hung over him whenever she was around. I also casually mentioned how Dean had taken me to dinner with the investors and Chuck seemed pleased with the arrangement.

“Good work on that,” my dad had said, his voice cold and calculating. “Get more into Dean’s life. Manipulate him. Let him fall in love with you.”

“Yeah, right, like that’s something I’m capable of,” I shot back, rolling my eyes even though he couldn’t see me. “I have a master’s degree; I’m not Cupid.”

“Doesn’t matter. Figure it out, break it down from the inside ” he insisted, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I sighed, feeling the weight of his expectations pressing down on me. But deep down, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to agree, if only to keep the peace. So I decided to focus on my work like I used to, putting my energy into my job rather than dwelling on the complexities of my feelings for Dean.

Weeks passed, and it became painfully clear that Dean was intentionally putting distance between us. Whenever Jo was around, he acted as if I were air, completely ignoring me while plastering on a smile for her.

I tried to joke or get his attention, hoping to draw out the true Dean I had come to know, but nothing worked. It was like I was shouting into a void, and the more he shut me out, the more frustrated I became.

At work, I kept my head down, throwing myself into projects and trying to prove my worth to Bobby and the rest of the team. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, if I became indispensable enough, Dean would realize he needed me in his life—not just for work, but for something more personal.

But as the days turned into weeks, my attempts felt futile. Whenever Dean and Jo entered the office together, the atmosphere shifted. Jo had a way of commanding attention, her loud laughter and brash comments cutting through the air like a knife. Dean would respond to her every whim, and I was left on the sidelines, watching as the connection I thought we had faded into nothing.

One afternoon, I found myself alone in the break room, pouring a cup of coffee, when Sam walked in. He looked at me with concern, and I knew he could sense the tension in the air.

“Hey, Y/N, everything okay?” he asked, leaning against the counter. “Yeah, just peachy,” I replied, forcing a smile. Sam raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You sure? You’ve been quieter than usual. Is it about Dean?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “It’s never mind." Sam frowned, looking thoughtful. “You know, Dean has a lot going on with Jo. He’s dealing with... his own issues. Sometimes he just needs space.”

Space? I thought, the frustration bubbling over. What kind of space? I’m not trying to invade his life; I just want to be friendly. But it feels like I’m competing with her every single day.

But all I said was "sure".

Sam his voice calm. “He’ll come around when he’s ready. He's a good boss, but his personal life just mingles with work I guess.” I nodded, appreciating his advice but still feeling the sting of rejection. “Thanks, Sam."

As I stood there, staring into my coffee cup, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my situation was only going to get messier. I had a job to do, but my heart was tangled in a web of emotions that seemed impossible to untangle.

That evening, as I sat at my desk, I noticed Jo laughing in the hallway. It was a familiar scene, but tonight it hit harder. I clenched my jaw, feeling a mix of anger and sadness. I didn’t want to be this pawn in my father’s game, nor did I want to be the other woman, vying for Dean’s attention while Jo played the part of the doting girlfriend.

With a deep breath, I decided to focus on my work and push the feelings aside. I had to remind myself that I was capable, that I was more than just a pawn in someone else’s game. But as I glanced at Dean, I couldn’t help but wonder how long I could keep this up without losing myself in the process.

--

Another dinner at Bobby's made it painfully clear why Dean had changed.

Jo announced to everyone, with a beaming smile, that she was pregnant. I almost choked on my food, a mix of shock and disbelief flooding through me. I forced a congratulatory smile, clapping along with everyone else, but my heart sank.

Dean, on the other hand, seemed anything but pleased. He sat quietly, his expression unreadable, and I could feel the tension radiating off him like heat waves.

--

The next night, I found myself working late. I had thrown myself into my projects, trying to escape the reality of Dean’s new situation, but my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts.

Bobby asked Sam the come back but part time, he wanted me by his side. To share the same title. Sam thought it was a great idea, this way Bobby could train me until his retirement and I would get promoted earlier.

When I decided to leave my office, I noticed a light still on in Dean's office.

I hesitated for a moment before knocking softly on the door. “Hi,” I said, stepping inside. Dean looked up from his paperwork, his brows furrowing as he saw me.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice lacking its usual warmth. He looked downcast, his tie a little lose, his hair messy. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was spiraling. “What are you still doing here?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing. Did you have dinner yet?” I inquired, trying to keep my tone light. He sighed deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “No, I tried to work through it, but I can’t seem to focus.”

“Is it Jo?” I ventured, surprised by my own boldness. Dean looked at me, surprise flickering across his face. “You noticed, huh?” I nodded slowly. “It’s just... I’ve seen... You don’t seem really thrilled about everything.”

He leaned back in his chair, the weight of his thoughts evident. “Just between you and me?” he asked, lowering his voice as if the walls themselves could hear.

“Of course,” I replied, stepping closer and closing the door behind me for privacy, even though we were probably the only two people in the building at this hour.

Dean took a moment, gathering his thoughts. “I don’t think I’m ready for kids,” he finally admitted, his voice strained. “I never pictured myself being a father, start a family, let alone with Jo. I just... I feel trapped.”

My heart ached at his words. I wanted to reach out and comfort him, to let him know he wasn’t alone in this turmoil. “Does she know?” I asked softly, afraid of his answer but needing to know.

He shook his head, frustration mingling with confusion. “No. I mean, how could I tell her? She’s so excited about it. I can’t just crush her like that.”

I took a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “Dean, it’s not just about her. You have to think about what you want too. This is your life, and it’s a huge decision.”

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I know, I just… I don’t want to let anyone down."

I could see the conflict etched on his face, the struggle between duty and desire. I stepped closer to him, my heart pounding.

He locked eyes with me, and for a brief moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.

I felt a surge of hope as his gaze softened. “Still maybe you need to talk to Jo. She deserves to know how you feel, and you deserve to be honest with yourself.”

Dean sighed, his shoulders slumping. “You’re right. I just don’t know how to start that conversation. It’s going to break her heart.”

“I know it’s tough,” I said, my voice steady. He nodded slowly, the weight of my words settling over him. “Thanks, Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I felt a warmth spread through me at his words, but I pushed it aside, reminding myself of the boundaries I needed to maintain. “You can always talk to me. I’m here for you,” I assured him.

We stood in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words. I could feel the tension between us, a mix of comfort and longing, but I knew this wasn’t the right time to explore those feelings.

“How about I order some pizza, and I’ll help you with this?” I suggested, hoping to lighten the mood. Dean’s face brightened, and he nodded gratefully.

“Yeah, that would be great,” he said, pulling out his phone. I quickly ordered a couple of pizzas and settled back into the rhythm of work.

We tackled spreadsheets, analyzed figures, and brainstormed ideas for the upcoming projects. The hours flew by, and soon enough, we were both feeling the effects of long hours and stress.

After we wrapped up, I leaned back in the seat in the corner of his office, taking a deep breath to unwind. I kicked off my shoes, letting my bare feet rest on the table in front of me. Dean looked over with an amused smirk as he walked back with two glasses of bourbon in hand.

“Nice footrest you’ve got there,” he teased, handing me a glass. “Try to wear heels all damn day, you'd do the same,” I replied, laughing softly.

Dean took a seat on the table in front of me, his posture relaxed as he placed my feet gently on his lap. "You know, you don't need to wear heels in this company, right?"

Just as I wanted to answer he started to massage them, his fingers digging into the arches of my feet. Ah soft "hm" left my lips. “Is this okay?” he asked, looking up at me with an expression that was both playful and sincere.

“It’s more than okay,” I replied whispering, feeling the tension melt away with each movement of his hands. “I might need to keep you around for personal massage therapy session.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. “I charge by the hour,” he quipped, and we both laughed, the sound filling the otherwise quiet office.

The atmosphere felt easy and cozy, and for a moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. But just as we settled into our little bubble, the door swung open, and Bobby walked in.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the sight of Dean and me in such an intimate position.

“No, not at all!” I exclaimed, pulling my feet back into a more appropriate position.

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I hope I’m not stepping on any toes here. I’ve got the latest numbers on the project you two were working on.”

Dean straightened up and regaining his composure. “We were just wrapping things up, anyway. What do you have for us?”

Bobby pulled out a folder and laid it on the table, glancing between us with a knowing smile. “Just wanted to make sure you two had everything you needed before the meeting next week. I’ll leave you to it.”

I couldn’t help but feel a mix of warmth and embarrassment. Dean had dropped the playful facade, returning to his professional demeanor, but I could still sense the underlying tension from earlier.

“Thanks for that,” Dean said to me, leaning back against the table, his expression softening. “I really needed it. You know, you’re pretty amazing at keeping my head straight.”

I smiled, feeling a blush creep onto my cheeks. “Just doing what I can. Besides, you’d do the same for me, right?”

He nodded, a hint of seriousness creeping back into his eyes. “Yeah, I would.”

The air was charged with an unspoken understanding. I knew we were both still navigating our complicated feelings, but in this moment, sitting together in the glow of the office light with the smell of pizza in the air, it felt like we were on the verge of something new.

--

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