#wish i could go out for a walk in it but its not summer anymore so i Will freeze if i do that

[valtsv]

started storming outside which means i get to listen to real 100% no artificial flavourings ambient thunder and heavy rainfall while drawing yayyyyyyyy :)

[ajortga]

sequence of events

pairing: jenna ortega x crutched?! fem reader

word count: 1.6k+

authors note: thank you so much for 800 followers, i appreciate each and every one of you. <3. my writing did not clearly match the image i wanted but i love making your requests come to life.

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based off request!

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Hi, I just recently started reading your blog but I really like the way you describe feelings, it’s simply amazing and since requests are open, I would like to ask if you could make a fem! reader who is disabled and walks on crutches, but one day Jenna accidentally pushes her and the reader almost falls into the pool and after fluff I know it’s stupid, but if you don’t want to, don’t write, it’s just my request, if you write, thank you so much! Best wishes!

-

It was not a rare sighting whenever you would be the person to catch the sympathetic stares that people shot at you whenever you walked around just perfectly.

Well, perfectly fine with crutches.

It was like almost every single day that you walked, people would slightly move to the side and give you a small nod. Or maybe they would apologize a bit too much. You think it’s happened too many times for you to count anymore. 

Ever since you were little, your left foot was physically paralyzed. You couldn’t go anywhere without having people staring at you a bit too long for your comfort. You’ve just gotten used to it.

The worst part about it was not being able to kick your feet in the air happily whenever you read a rom com. God it stunk because you would smile widely and only your right foot would be swinging, which would cause you to accidentally knock something down on your bedside table.

With the sun of summer beginning to make its grand departure, Liz, one of your best friends, planned the whole day for you two to experience the “actual hot girl summer day.” 

The months before summer, every year you’d make a whole list, preferably 6 pages long of all the summer-y things you’d spend the summer doing. But every year you’d only cross out less than a fifth of your bucket list. 

You glide your sunscreen against your skin and to the slope of your nose and tuck your hair behind your ears while watching a show displayed on your laptop.

Once you’re finished, you slowly balance yourself on your crutches and make a call to Liz.

She picks up on the first ring as you squeak out a, “I’m ready!”

-

Liz 💐: i’m here under the tree 

You slowly crutch your way out of your house and to the spot Liz’s car was at. God, there was one time that you were walking to look for her and she jumped from the damn bushes, it made you scream so loudly and almost fall on your ass.

Of course you bring out your phone, zooming into her location from the Find My Iphone app, letting out a sigh of relief when you see that her phone was where she indicated. You stand still, elbowing your crutches before sliding your phone back in your pocket.

Your steps escalate a little quicker, your crutches picking up the pace as you glance at the bush you fell in almost 6 months ago. You hate that your driveway was always parked with random cars. Basically all your friends had to resort to another location. She was still pretty far, out of sight for now.

You bring out your phone when you feel it ring again, glancing down at what it said.

Liz 💐: you look like a monster on roblox that’s just bouncing in the same spot.

Okay, what? – You narrow your eyes, not understanding how she could’ve possibly seen-

Something emerges from the pushes as your friend pops out and screams, making you scream so loudly, then start cussing her out, threatening her with one of your crutches. How the hell did she manage to do it again?

“LIZ, I’M GOING TO FUCKING-”

-

Jenna was sitting against the chairs you would see at any community pool, reading her book about tips in life, sunglasses on.

Yes, it had taken you an hour later, with Liz having to frantically push you into her car and paying for the food you wanted, for you to be somewhat sane.

After a little bit of shopping and buying new books to make you relive a rom com story, Liz holds the door for you as you walk out to the pool. Jenna’s eyes raise to the noise, looking at the door and she swears you’re the most beautiful girl she’s ever seen. Her eyes would be cursed every time she closed her eyes, your face popping up every time she dreamt. It takes her a moment but she flares up in realization, because she’s seen you before! 

She met you once when she had bumped into you from one of the coffee shops. You both had talked for an hour straight. The freckled cheeked girl remembered how alive humanity felt for her the next couple of days because of that. You both were just talking about how the seasons were so intriguing. 

People being people made her feel good whenever she thought about life for the week following.

Her eyes trail over yours, then the pattern of your nose, the way the sun kisses your cheeks in just the right way. Your hair glows in the sun as soon as you step in the light, the breeze perfectly blowing against it. You were ethereal.

Wow, was all the brunette could think as she put down her book, losing all of her interest in it because you had taken all of it. That book was stinky dinky if it meant being able to say hi to you once again and somehow impress you. 

She got up and put the book into her bag, standing up and walking behind you. As she walked beside the pool, right in front of her, she took off her sunglasses. It would be awkward if you didn’t recognize her because she had them on. 

Once she took them off, she fiddled with the lens, her fingertips lightly brushing over it to get a speck of dust off.

Next thing she knew, her shoe had got caught against bumpy brick floors and she was falling face flat into you.

She squeals, trying to catch herself so she won’t fall straight against you, especially since you were unaware, your crutches holding you steady. 

You’re a bit too focused on your friend’s deep conversation to notice what was going on, until something slams right behind your back and straight up sends you flying into the pool with a scream.

“Oh my god!” Liz yells as you bend, crutches landing on the ground nicely. Unfortunately, it was the opposite case for you as you splash into the water, the coldness making you yell. You couldn’t move. You can’t swim, how the hell does someone swim if one leg doesn’t work, you cry out for help, spluttering out water as your working leg flaps uselessly up and down the water. 

“Liz! I can’t-”

What the fuck had Jenna just done? Immediately she used the stairs right where you were and crawled down, the life guard was way too busy talking to someone to even notice the commotion. God she couldn’t let you drown-

-

You were coughing, choking on water that did not feel good at all. Your chest felt tight and hurt like shit every time you breathed in deeply. Liz and the pretty girl you recognized from when you met her at the bookstore were yelling in your face, asking you questions that just sounded like gibberish.

“Are you bouquet?”

“Ho mice god!”

“How the bell bid chu mop sea urchin?”

What. The. Hell.

“I am so sorry!” The brunette says, wrapping you in a towel and setting your crutches to your sides. You were a little too busy admiring her freckles to be mad. “I just remembered you from the other day and wanted to say hi and I fucking tripped and-”

You blink, slapping your chest over and over again as you slowly grin, that probably looked a little foolish and silly. “ ‘Ts okay, it was an accident,” you mumble, voice a little croaky as the warmth from the sun soaks up your damp clothes.

It was definitely not okay to Jenna, she thinks you might have dived head first, because now you were looking at her and grinning. Shouldn’t you be upset? God you were all toothy and everything, oh god! Did she make you crack your brain?

She should not be thinking you looked like you just came out of a movie when she accidentally pushed you into the pool!

Jenna did not know what to do, just rubbing the towel that was marshmallowed over your body. Your friend looked like she was about to explode. 

-

Jenna, in fact, did make it up to you. Because an hour later three of you guys were getting Jamba Juice smoothies and tacos. 

“God, I swear I wasn’t trying to kill you,” She rambled, mouth a little full, you noticed the way that she always used her hands as an illustrator while talking. “I just wanted to see if it was you and ask how you were and-”

“Jenna, I swear it’s fine,” you brush off, sitting on the chair while Jenna was standing up, pacing back and forth. 

“It wouldn’t have been fine if you had died, Y/N!” Jenna and Liz speak at the same time, making you sip your smoothie. Seriously, you were fine. Your clothes were for the most part, dry, and it just was a struggle to take a deep breath at some moments.

“But.. If you want and are willing..” You trail off, squirming to grab your phone as you swipe it to your contacts and place it in Jenna’s hands with one of your eyebrows raised. 

“Deal!” She said, grinning as she booped her fingers into your phone.

It was a little late at night when you crawled into bed, your right foot taking lead as you hide under the covers. You and Jenna had texted for a while, and you just got another message.

Yay! You just got a Jamba Juice gift card from your friend, Jenna!

jenna the head cracker: juice

You almost cackle, immediately scrolling through gift cards and tapping on one that was just right.

Hooray! You just sent your friend Jenna the Head Cracker a non-trip shoe deal!

you: shoes

[jessjad]

Rightfully deceived

Epilogue

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1079

Warnings: none really.

A/N: I hope you all had wonderful holidays and a good start into the new year! 😁 And here is the end of my story. All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

One year later...

It was late November again, a bitterly cold wind was blowing across the country and the first snow had already fallen. A sight that always made Y/N wistful. She looked out the window across the white fields and icy trees to the horizon, behind which the sun had now almost disappeared. The orange-red light made the snow sparkle. Her mom had loved winter, which made the memories of her death bittersweet.

A lot had happened in the last year and Y/N had often wished she could exchange a few words with her mom, ask her for advice or just hug her. She had been the good soul of her clan and had cared for everyone. A trait that the young woman hoped she had inherited. But there was no way to talk to her anymore and so Y/N had to do a lot of things alone for the first time.

It had often been difficult or even frightening, but Millie had always been by her side and supported her from woman to woman. But not just her. Dean hadn't left her alone anymore either. Although it wasn't always that easy for him too. But each situation had strengthened their relationship more and more.

When Y/N thought of her husband, she couldn't help but smile. She had loved him for so long and her heart almost burst with happiness because Dean had also loved her before. Even if it took him a long time to realize it. And he had tried to explain it to her over and over again. The Alex incident had been followed by many long nights of conversation. Honest, open hours full of feelings and affection. There had been days when she no longer believed that this was even possible.

The door behind her opened and Dean walked in, carrying some firewood under his arm. As soon as he saw his wife standing at the window turning to him with a loving smile, he had to smile too. What kind of year had it been? It had had its ups and downs and often wasn't easy, but they had persevered through everything together.

It had shocked his clan when Dean had shot Alex. Many people didn't understand it at first, but there were enough witnesses on the tower who could confirm the necessity. But it probably hit Cassie the most. In the days that followed, she seemed completely different. She had withdrawn and appeared thoughtful. After about four days, she had sincerely apologized to Y/N and Dean for her behavior and told them that she couldn't stay here any longer.

Y/N had reacted to this with mixed feelings. After all, Cassie hadn't tried to drive her away or kill her. And even though she was offended by her behavior, his wife had shown compassion. In the end, she could understand what it was like to be in love with someone for a long time without those feelings being reciprocated. But Cassie couldn't stay any longer and so they let her go.

"You okay there, my love?" asked Dean as he put more firewood on the fire.

"Yes, yes. It's just this time of year and the snow." Y/N answered and turned back to the window.

Dean stood up again and came over to her. He put his arms around her from behind and looked out into the wintry world with her for a while. He knew that it made her a little melancholy, but that also passed.

"I just prefer summer." she turned around in Dean's arms. "Especially when you're on the high seas."

He had to chuckle at that and hugged his wife a little tighter.

Y/N had accompanied him on many business trips and in May Dean had extended the business trip by three weeks and had taken her to France. Also so that he could show her the stars on the open sea on clear early summer nights.

"We can do that again next year." he replied, which earned him a beaming smile from his wife.

"But you know it won't be as easy as this year, right? After all, we're not alone anymore."

Dean smiled now. "Which probably makes it even nicer." He gave her a quick kiss on the lips and let go of Y/N to go to the second door in the bedroom, which was open a crack and gave a small glimpse into the room behind it.

They had had to switch bedrooms three months ago and had now moved into a larger room because they simply needed the extra space. And they were also closer to Sam and Millie, who had finally gotten married in July and were now overjoyed themselves.

"How is he doing?"

"No! Stop, Dean! You're gonna wake Connor up!" Y/N whispered loudly with a chuckle as she saw how Dean attempted to open the door a little further.

"He'll be fine." He replied, but hesitated for a second before he opened the door a little more.

Y/N came over to him and both looked to the small bed in which their son lied and slept peacefully.

Dean pulled Y/N to his side and she hugged him back. He placed a kiss on her hairline, enjoying the warmth she gave off. The last year had so many firsts for them and sometimes he couldn't believe how happy he was now. Dean looked at Y/N and knew that she was a big part of this and he would do anything to not lose her again.

"He has your eyes." The woman said lovingly.

"And he has your nose." Dean countered with a smile.

"Come on. We should let him sleep as long as he does so calmly and peacefully." Y/N said and turned away from the door again.

Dean did the same. "You're probably right." But his wife couldn't go far before he took her back into his arms. "Actually, I was thinking about something." Dean grinned.

"And what is that?" although Y/N already had an idea.

"I'm sure Connor would like to have a little sister." he wiggled his eyebrows and Y/N laughed. She pressed herself a little tighter against him and looked at him lovingly.

"I'm not sure if it will work that quickly, but we can practice anytime if you want." Now she wiggled her eyebrows and Dean laughed.

"That's sounds like a solid plan to me, sweetheart." Dean agreed and begann to kiss her with all his heart.

A/N: And now we're truly at the end here. I'm a little sad now, tbh. 🥹

It has been such a ride and I wanna thank all of you who have joined me on this. And I want to thank everyone who left me feedback or reblogged my story. I was so overwhelmed with the responses and I felt so blessed. I appreciate you all so much! 💜 And I hope we see us again in february to my new story. 😁

@chriszgirl92 @elenasalvatore1 @laurensfangirlingsideblog @moonxlightsworld @muhahaha303

@stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78  @allthosepeopleilovetofangirlover @ninii-winchester @itsdesiree86

@foxyjwls007 @jtink27 @tommysaxes @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @aylacavebear

@suckitands33 @pillowjj @hobby27 @mischiefnevermanaged89-blog @winchesterwild78

@nikimisery @acid-spiderr @deangirl96 @lyarr24 @k-slla

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@leila22rogers @whimsyfinny @a-girl-who-loves-disney @goest-and-fuckest-thyself

@zepskies @star-girl-05 @tmb510 @louisianalady @deansimpalababy

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@taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @deans-spinster-witch @strepsils123 @7leb-kakaw  @psychicbouquetblaze-stuff

@thebiggerbear

[angelesca]

for who did the sinner turn to for solace? w.c. ~2.2k

˚☽˚.⋆ you chanced upon a sinner's hidden sanctuary. a desperate devotion that left you breathless, broken, unable to return to what was once peaceful.

yan!sunday x gnreader | obsession, worship, religious themes, yandere, angst, you find a hidden room(freaky), some kinda power dynamic in favour of reader, suggestive end, idk whats going on anymore

a/n: fanfic in celebration of sunday's drip marketing~~~♡♡♡

pristine walls tower over your insignificance. halls endless in their venture as you walked for what felt like an eternal stretch - until you stood behind a door that whispered your name.

one foot into the ominous entry was all you promised yourself. 

the bony fingers of a glacial witch froze your limbs, casting impossible elements foreign to the summer season. your shoulders trembled, eyes shaky, it was difficult to hold yourself together.

for a moment, you were not alive.

you became nothing but a mere empty husk. to brace these horrors were to have you entirely deprived of rational thought, disassociated from your existence which was shedded at the entrance. otherwise, to accept the concrete reality would have obliterated your body, bones, and blood.

dark miasma misted your vision, gradually fleeing as you walked further in. sinful obsessions reeked in the secluded room. a crushing omnipresence left no space to breathe, as if dark spectres were haunting the grounds. baptised by stygian waters, this was a purgatory of forbidden nature. 

your neck creaked in stiff intervals. the terrified, thunderous pounding in your chest forced you to hold your breath, in fear of anything that had ears. 

this was a sinner’s solace.

no matter where you looked, all you saw was your face. if it was not your face, it was your belongings, stolen. if was not any of your belongings, it was inks of gospels dedicated to you, writhing on the walls. if you did not look anymore, shutting your eyes, flashes of your being plastered everywhere persisted, even in the security of your head. 

stale paintings littered the expanse of the room, documenting every moment of your life. papers scattered everywhere, scratched with the handwriting of a delirious monster. unscathed by sunlight, cobwebs and dust inhabited the dark corners. 

your heart dropped. in the very centre was most absurd: standing tall was a marble statue dedicated to carving the radiance of your physicality, posed with one hand scrambling for the skies. 

there was no escape from these depths; you had wandered too far to forget this ever. the haunting spectres have latched onto your shoulders, a perpetual token of this hell. 

witnessing the testament of a sinner’s guilty solace fractured your belief in heaven, your faith interrogated by the aeons. behind this room was a person who obsessively prayed every second, sore knees dug to the floor, for they wished a miracle of repugnance into the innocence of life. 

“i specifically warned you not to fly too far off, little bird.”

all senses suddenly rushed back in as you gasped, breathing rapidly, a strong sense of flight or fight dominating you. 

a familiar voice oscillated. behind you was equilibrium embodied - the peak of perfection - bedecked in a suit spectacular in its symmetry. well-crafted, wearing himself with dignity befitting an emperor of order and systems. 

clearing your throat of its tar, you squeezed out whatever strength was left. yet, you only muttered one word, one name. the only person you could comprehend in the haze of your mind: “... sunday.” 

not a single strand out of place. that was who everyone else remembered sunday as. an illustration of integrity fortified. if you were to reveal the existence of this chamber, no one would take your measly word.

“pray tell, out of all doors, how did you manage upon the only wrong one?” sunday chuckled dully. “how clumsy, yes, this was how you always were. i know this.”

as much as he adored your bright, curious eyes, it did not work out in his favour this time. it was plausible that he did not study you as well as he believed he did.

accumulating a deep breath in, you turned your body towards sunday. “w-what is this-”

you did not recognise the figure before you. nothing that you remembered him to be. the entity was pointedly dressed as ‘sunday’, but you could not diagnose the foreboding curve of his lips, the hands that hid the unknown behind him, the darkness in his eyes.

his gilded eyes seized your own, hooking onto your intentions that waved at him like obvious bait. a tilt of his head, his lips split into a more delicate smile. ‘sunday’ caught the traces of your eyes that spun all over him, catching the dangling of your web. he weaved his own as his eyes pursued the tails of anxiety on your expression. how adorable you were when your gaze flicked away in response.

“what was the question, dear?” ‘sunday’ insisted. his words echoed vividly in your head, projecting a deadly premonition. think carefully before answering, lest you get pulled into an abysmal fate.

you hesitated before speaking, “all this… was you?” 

“do you really have to ask?” his words were for you to solve, although there was no help needed when everything was point-blank.

“... is this real…?”

a dream, you hoped. however, it was but a half-hearted prayer in comparison to 'sunday’s' fervour to your shrine. he was but a single apostle, yet, his staunch piety was worth thousands more. 

“you wound me. i have expended countless hours and fortunes on this,” the lock on the door clinked. he started towards you, his golden gaze stiffening your body. “is it not to your liking?” he gestured towards the statue, his prized possession.

your lips opened and closed like a broken hinge, mouthing silent words. shoulders rattling as you felt the statue’s glare boring holes into you.

‘sunday’ piloted your holy hand, with his gloved ones, towards his lips. the bud of a gentle kiss was planted on your knuckle, blooming petals of heat across your skin. it was abstract. how did it come to this? your hands balled into fists, quickly backfiring from him.

you took a step back. ‘sunday’ took one forward. you took two steps back. ‘sunday’ followed with two more of his own. eventually, your back hit the base of the statue. a game of cat and mouse in his territory had nothing to your advantage. 

you breathing hitched as ‘sunday’ trapped you with both his arms, caging a poor little bird. your elbows propped on top of the statue’s base as you shrinked back as much as you could. 

“this, it’s not right,” you asserted, “you are obsessed… with me.”

‘sunday’ smiled, his wings fluttering. he did not fight it. it was but the bare truth. what else could he say when you already acknowledged his conviction to your sanctity?

his fingers trailed up your thighs, rubbing circles on your hips with his thumb. his eyes were magnetised to every small shift in your features. always studying, always watching. your breathing halted, perturbed by the revelation of his adoration. his touch ignited sparks, forcing your emotions for sunday to surface. but there was a strange imbalance. you had feelings for him, but his allegiance to you was beyond petty love - an ascension to a farther plane reserved for just you and him.

this was a disciple and his aeon. this was worship.

“no!” you clasped onto ‘sunday’s’ arms, trembling. it was unthinkable. that you, a common nobody, could so profoundly entrench into ‘sunday’, distinguished from the rest. it was too great of an obsession. “this is all wrong!” 

as much as you vehemently denied it, a nudge in the back of your mind argued your words. you knew. you knew that your shallow screaming meant nothing to a zealous devotee who was drowning in his fabricated religion. if he managed to hide this for so long, he must have reached the point of no return.

‘sunday’s’ eyes darkened, furrowed at your refusal. “you are right. these feelings are taboo when i promised an oath of fidelity to ena.” he tilted your chin, regarding you with caliginous affection. “you are temptation; my downfall.” he admitted. “yet, i could not help but indulge in you.”

no amount of reciting could revert a reprobate when he was taking pleasure in his sins.

you gritted your teeth, nails drilling into his arms. “you are a miscreant,” you hissed. tears began to dawn on the horizon of your eyes. “hell awaits… to enact your damnation.”

“and that is fine,” he breathed, “if that is what you command.”

“...what… do you mean?” you whispered shakily, scanning his face for answers.

“i will follow your words. if you wish to condemn me to hell, then i will gladly do so.”

you understood the implications of his words, but it pained you to hear it: you were his aeon. you had the power to forgive his wrongdoings. he would not see you as anything less. you were to absolve his sins and encourage his compassion, his wrongs and rights as an aeon does.

“i am only for your sole judgement. whether my devotion to you is sin is for you to decide.” ‘sunday’s’ eyes softened, and in that brief period, you saw sunday again. you recognised the angelic smile, his mellow hands that roamed the breadth of your divinity, those auspicious golden eyes.

sunday’s nature was to be devoted; to demonstrate his reverence was proof of his faith. his dream of an endless penacony, duty bound to ena, the path of order, crawling hell and back for the revenge of his sister. now you, a once free bird, who flew too close to the crossfire.

you loved him and wished that he saw you as an equal. but the scales tipped too far to your side. “can’t you… just love me?”

sunday averted his face shamefully, his wings curtailed. “what i feel towards you, it is beyond comprehension.”

apparitions of a phantom arm forcefully speared for your heart, squeezing and constricting. your limbs were stinging in a wintry storm before you inhaled deeply and recollected yourself. 

you scoffed at the unbelievable situation.

you didn’t know what to do. to forget and abandon sunday now was to erase his existence - he could not remain as anything but your ardent aide. however, it was unimaginable, cureless, for you to consign sunday to the chasm of your past. 

thus, to keep sunday, you must ascend to godhood. 

with a tender palm, he cradled your face lovingly. you were as radiant as the first summer he met the brilliant you.

his affection shoved you to the brink. you tested him once more, for certain. “i… love you.”

sunday did not say anything, your confession a passing breeze.

tears fell harder, your eyes stinging. he severed your attachments. it was a disciple and his aeon after all. this was all it could amount to.

“you... a-are ridiculous,” you muttered in hiccups, grip tight on his arms.

a shadow and his light. a knight and his liege. sunday would serve, sacrifice, and lay down his life for you. the pinnacle of devotion that ‘love’ could not begin to define, which was feeble and easily broken as sunday knew it. 

“i know.” sunday chuckled wistfully, anguish smeared on his face. it hurt him dearly to see you cry because of him. relaxing his forehead on yours, his wings encircled you to create a safe solace where only he knew of your tears. all your agony and heartbreak, it was directed only at him, to embrace the weight of your woe. 

you concentrated on his faltering eyes through the fogginess of your tears. you gritted your teeth. “i will curse you to hell, you and your reincarnations.”

“of course, if that is your will.”

he kissed his thumb, swiping it over your quivering lips. he pledged a muted covenant of his faith to your religion until his flesh and blood were spent. 

sunday was beyond redemption, a sinner who scorched the ground he walked on. in the worthless desert, he found sanctuary in your oasis, but he would not take it for granted. he would not corrupt you any further. he would not dare to take your treasured firsts. 

that would be left to someone who truly knew how to ‘love’ and cherish you.

your finger traced an unsteady crescent arc along his jaw. sunday slanted forwards, hiding in the crook of your neck as your sweet, taboo scent rooted itself into his mind. it was the same addictive aroma that always seeped from your body, clothing- naked skin. 

sunday released a shaky breath, nails burrowed into his palm. what a dirty, sinful mind he had. he beseeched you to grant him salvation for his disgraceful behaviour. “i will do all that you ask of me.” he desperately needed your permission to repent. “tell me how you want me.”

you bit the inside of your cheek. “i…”

before you could answer, sunday caressed your neck, slipping his hand under your shirt to expose the line of your collarbone. his lips feathered his across it, not quite touching, his warmth diffusing across the boundary, which he physically restrained from transgressing. your nerves recoiled as your body reciprocated his fire which kindled an inferno inside you.

there was no room to think. do as you please with him, for you were his aeon. “...show me your devotion, sunday.”

“how so?” sunday nudged a thigh in between your legs. “guide me as you like.”

he chanted his craving for you. begging to revel in your celestial light and taste the forbidden apple. the rising embers scorched the air of its coolness, infected by your fluster. your rapid heart sang back, thrashing against your ribcage. it was hard to breathe.

your head did all the praying, praying to be forgiven for pushing sunday to the void. he no longer understood love, only religion. his eyes rich with fondness for your brilliance, for you, his true aeon: the path of no return.

a/n: drip marketing made me insane. milord looks scrumptious in all his holiness, amen posting may slow down more bc i go back to uni *sobs* but fear not, i have many ideas waiting to be written!! so stay tuned!!! thanks for reading!🪽

[adore-laur]

Dadrry idea: since Harry left his position of head chef and there’s a second baby now, maybe they’re struggling a tiny bit with money. Not too much but things are a little stressful and they have to cancel a holiday maybe? Or one of the girls just doesn’t get a toy she wants or something? And they have to explain it to the child just while Harry picks up a few more shifts

——

Harry handled the finances and was highly aware of each transaction made in the family. With two kids, you both had to be quite frugal, especially since Harry was working fewer hours at the restaurant and you were a stay-at-home mom. While there was never an issue of not having enough money to pay the bills and provide your children with life’s necessities, the prospect of running out still haunted your mind. It was possible that an unforeseeable emergency could snatch a hefty chunk of money away. Additionally, there were other boring adult charges like mortgages, taxes, and monthly subscriptions that all left a bigger deduction with each year that passed.

Then there was the summer trip to Italy happening in two months. The plane tickets had already been bought and gifted for Christmas, and the villa was booked in advance. It was expensive, but the other option of staying in a cramped hotel room for a week was undesirable in all regards. The space and privacy were crucial for your sanity.

Italy was not a cheap travel destination per se. There would be money spent every day on transportation, dining, tourist traps, and whatever else sucked you in with its magnificent European beauty. Indulging in extravagance would be tempting, but if you planned and budgeted ahead of time, maybe the financial repercussions of the trip wouldn't be so deplorable. Your wishful thinking was blatantly deceptive.

After putting the kids to bed, you sat at the kitchen table under the dim chandelier and waited for Harry to finish unloading the dishwasher. His silent presence was comfortable as you pondered the logistics of the upcoming trip. Well, pondered was putting it lightly—you were brooding.

"I can hear you thinking," Harry said, setting the last bowl in the cupboard to his left. He washed and dried his hands, then walked over to you with his cotton pajama pants slung low on his hips. His bare torso was at your eye level, and you fought the urge to bury your face in the warm, chiseled skin there.

"My head is going to explode," you muttered, feeling an imminent migraine pulsing near your temples.

He fell into the chair beside you, exhausted from an eventful Saturday filled with dad duties, and scooted it closer to you. "Why, baby?" he asked, his palms scrubbing down his face as he yawned.

"I'm overthinking everything."

Placing his elbow on the table, he cradled his cheek in his palm and gave you his full focus. "Break it down for me."

"There's mainly one thing." You huffed, deciding to broach the topic before it got swept under the rug. "The Italy trip. Prices are going up, and I'm worried we won't be able to afford going anymore."

Harry's expression was the epitome of flummoxed. "Wait, what? Where is this coming from?"

"You're not working full-time," you explained, "and I'm not raking in any income. I mean, will we be able to financially recover from the trip? What if—"

"Hold on, hold on," he said softly, his eyes pinching shut. "Can I interrupt, please?"

You half-heartedly waved your hand in his general direction, in desperate need of his sensible guidance. "Be my guest."

"Let's backtrack for a second. Honey, why do you think we won't be able to afford it? The biggest costs are already out of the way."

"I just told you why. Think about it, Harry." You tapped the table to emphasize each point. "A meal for four people will probably cost over a hundred dollars. That includes breakfast, lunch, and dinner, so if we multiply that by the seven days we're there, it's going to be well over a thousand dollars."

"Okay," he said. He didn't seem to have anything to add after that, so you continued.

"Then there's transportation." You groaned, staring up at the ceiling. "We still have to decide if we're renting a car. If not, we'll have to pay for a bus, or a train, or a taxi. That's going to add up very quickly."

"Mm-hmm." Harry had a dopey look on his face, a hint of a smile tugging the corners of his lips up. Whatever. You were being realistic, and he was in a dreamland where money grew on trees.

You carried on, getting tangled in the vines of your brain's dense jungle. "And then what about all the sightseeing and activities? That's the most expensive aspect." You shrugged helplessly. "I was recently searching for free things to do in Tuscany. I guess there are a lot of buildings we can look at, but I don't know if the kids would enjoy it."

Harry nodded along. When he realized you were done with your long-winded explanation, he lifted his eyebrows and said, "It's a good thing we can spoil them with the raise I got yesterday."

"And also—what?" You stopped abruptly, catching your breath. Did he just...?

Harry stood and bent down to kiss your forehead in that sweet way of his—gentle and imploring, like he wanted to caress your brain and will it to calm down. "I got a raise yesterday," he repeated nonchalantly, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you demanded, lightly smacking his shoulder.

"I'm telling you right now. I wanted to wait until we had a moment to ourselves." He crouched in front of you, holding your knees just like he'd done when you told him you were pregnant for the second time. The memory was so vivid that it almost left you stunned with emotion. "Five percent pay raise. We're going to be just fine." His simple smile was remedial. "We are not canceling this trip."

You exhaled, releasing all of your worries into the air, the pounding in your temples dissipating. "Why didn't you stop me from rambling on?"

"Because it's healthy to speak those types of thoughts aloud instead of letting them simmer," Harry replied like the perfect husband he was.

You cupped his cheeks and kissed him deeply, pouring all of your love and gratitude into it. "I'm so proud of you," you whispered against his mouth. He savored your words by humming and sliding his tongue across yours for a brief second. "I appreciate the hard work you put into making our little family happy. And thank you for making this vacation possible."

"Wanted to spoil my girls," Harry murmured, craning his neck to kiss you more. His wet lips pulled at yours, greedy for their pliancy.

"Are you going to pick up more hours at the restaurant?" you asked in between the sounds of lip-smacking and heavy breathing. Something about him at night, in the dimly lit kitchen, with you as his sole focus, was igniting that secret fuse only he could play with.

"Shhh..." His fingers dug into your waist as he lifted you off the chair. Your legs and arms wrapped around him, warmth flooding right under your skin like wildfire. "No more work talk. I want some alone time with my wife before a hungry baby wakes us up."

You giggled and bit his bottom lip in excitement before he carried you to the bedroom.

Miraculously, your six-month-old gave the both of you forty minutes of uninterrupted time to roll around in the sheets.

When you went to sleep later that night, visions of Tuscany's hillside vineyards and swimming in the vast sea erased your concerns. As did the unequivocal vision of the man beside you making precious memories with his babies.

With Harry, there was no need to sweat the small stuff. His eyes were set on the most important thing—family.

——

[bubblegump-1-nk]

Shall I Write It in a Letter

pairing: Gryffindor!Reader x Theodore Nott

summary: In which Theo wakes up one morning and realizes he can no longer not have you, so he writes you a letter. But when that letter gets lost, things become complicated. - inspired by Anne with an E; song: Bloom by The Paper Kites.

Warnings: angst that could be fixed by simple communication 😒, hints of cheating

P.S: I super duper highly recommend to listen to the songs either before, during, or after you read my fics . Not only do they encapsulate what the fic is about, but they’re also just super good songs!! <33d

~~~

Christmas break had been in session for about a week and a half, and Theo was spending his time off at home. Although he was sad to be away from his friends, he was happy for the much needed alone time.

The sun was shining brightly through the dark velvet curtains in his room, and he slowly woke up from his dreams. As his eyes fluttered open, he felt a pang of pain in his heart. His dream had been of you, specifically of kissing your soft lips on a warm summers day by the Black Lake. He’s found that more recently than ever, his head is full of you, as is his heart. As he’s laying in his bed, he closes his eyes once more, trying to hold onto the bits of you he won’t ever experience. In this moment, thoughts of you more prevalent than ever before, he realizes he doesn’t have to not have you. Quickly, becoming fully awake, he springs out of his bed and walks quickly to his desk.

He pushes all the papers and miscellaneous items off the surface, and pulls out a paper and quill. He’s become fully aware of just how much he longs for you, and why should he not be able to tell his best friend that he’s in love with her? He’s been yearning for your love for as long as he can remember, and it has finally transformed him into a fool, giving him the confidence to express his love for you.

My dearest y/n,

I’ve found that you’ve been circling my thoughts more than usual lately, so much so that I can hardly call them my own anymore. I think about you all the time, yet I’ve been too much of a coward to say anything. But I’ve realized that I don’t want to wake up one day, either in the near future or in the years to come, and regret not trying, because of pride, or embarrassment, or just simple fear. I need to escape this torture chamber I’ve made for myself, where I must hold you at arms length though I know I wish for nothing more than to be wrapped in your embrace at all hours of the day. So I need you to tell me if it’s all in my head. That the lingering touches and longing stares are just simple delusions I’ve created in my mind. But if they’re not, and Merlin how I hope they’re not, I’m telling you here and now that I am in love with you y/n l/n, and I don’t think I can bear to be apart from you any longer. I also want to go ahead and apologize for telling others I loved you, that they knew before you did, but to be fair I think everyone knew before I did, too. You are my breath of fresh air, the light in all my darkness, my proof that life is pure and good and that happiness is achievable. I may not be a religious person, but if worshipping you was a religion I’d be its most devoted follower. And if my feelings are not reciprocated, please find a way to put this past you because I could not endure losing you as my best friend as well.

Yours Forever, Theo.

After pouring his heart out onto the page, he carefully placed it into an envelope, wrote your name on it, and walked to give it to owl. After sending it away, he walked back to his room, his anxiety suddenly crashing through. Thoughts swarmed his head: She doesn’t love me, I’ve ruined everything, I should stop it from reaching her. But his heart quickly stopped his brain from doing too much damage. You needed to know or else Theo would live in agony for the rest of his life. Upon reaching his room, he sat back at his desk and sent letters to each of the Slytherin boys, confessing what he’s done. He even slipped a copy of the letter to Mattheo, the only one he felt he could truly trust with that piece of his heart.

~~~

It had been two days since the letter had been sent. Had his owl reached you by now? Had you seen it? What were you thinking?

He was an utter mess, his mind swarming with questions and his body teeming with anxieties.

Soon it was 4 days, then 6, then a week, and then the last day of break rolled around the corner. Still he had received no response from you, perhaps you wished to talk in person? His heart hoped that that was the answer, and that the lack of a letter was not your rejection

~~~

You got onto the train just as it was about to take off, thanks to your missing jumper. The train was packed with kids saying their hellos and catching up, and with much effort you finally found Harry, Hermione, and Ron and got inside the compartment.

“Is it just me or is it crazier than usual?” You ask as you sit down.

“Definitely crazier, apparently Lavendar and Parvati got into a huge fight over break so everyone’s running around to hear about it.” Hermione explains as she hands you some candy she bought for you.

You say your thanks and continue talking with your friends when there’s a knock on your compartment.

“Hi Dean!” You say as you get up to slide open the door. You step out quickly to talk with the tall Gryffindor boy.

You have a friendly conversation, lasting about 10 minutes before entering the compartment again.

“What was that about.” Ron asks, before anyone else has the chance to.

“I saw him at Diagon Alley over the break and he asked me out. We hung out a couple times over the break.” You explain.

“Never would have expected that one.” Says Harry.

You raise you eyebrow at him, “and why would that be?”

“Just always assumed it would be Nott.” Harry says.

“I can’t just sit around like a fool waiting for him. He’s shown he just sees me as his best friend and the quicker I get over him the better.” You explain.

“But, he hasn’t shown you that he feels that way.” Explains Hermione, who is team Theo and y/n.

“He hasn’t shown me any differently. Wake me up when we get there I’m taking a nap.” You say, tired of constantly being reminded of your inability to be with Theo.

~~~

You arrive at the castle, and you make your way through the crowds to find your Slytherin friends. Just as you spot their group, Dean Thomas stops you.

“Hey, I’ve saved you a seat next to me, ok?” He asks, while his hands snaked around your waist.

“Thanks, I’ll be right there.” You say to him, giving him a small smile before turning your attention back to the group

-

“Merlin.” Theo says, causing the group to turn their heads. He had seen you walking around the crowd, and had turned away quickly when you had finally spotted them. He hadn’t seen you on the train and obviously hadn’t received your letter, so a part of him still hoped that you just wanted to talk to him in person. His anxiety began to take over him when he saw you walking towards him - would you tell him to fuck off? That he’s some sort of creep best friend? Or would you tell him that your heart beat for him? - that’s when he saw it. Dean Thomas gripping your waist and you sending him that sweet, tooth rotting smile his way.

“Oh shit.” Said Mattheo, who had been the first to spot the pair.

“Fuck that’s messed up.” Said Draco.

“I’m sorry mate.” Enzo said, patting Theo’s shoulder.

“How’d that even happen?” Asked Blaise, confused because he had never really seen you interact with Dean.

Mattheo sent him a look, warning him to drop it.

“Let’s just get out of here.” Mattheo said, gently grabbing Theo’s arm, pulling him away towards the dining room.

Theo could still feel his heart breaking, each shard falling to the pits of his stomach and stabbing him. He got his answer at least, not only did you not love him, you clearly didn’t care enough about him to even write back to him. And now, his God-sent Angel, was flaunting around with another man. How could the sweet girl he grew up with, the one that showed him that even salt could be beautiful, break his heart and crumble its pieces in your fist?

-

You were confused when you suddenly saw the group leave, making their way into the dining hall. You tried to get to them, but the crowds of people pushed you back until finally, you realized it was fruitless when the crowd began pushing you back towards the Gryffindor side of the Great Hall. You decided to just sit down, and that you would try to find the group, Theo specifically because you missed him deeply, after dinner.

Dinner passed quickly after the tedious sorting ceremony. You talked with your friends and caught up with those around you, sneaking glances towards the Slytherin table as often as possible. Finally, Dumbledore dismissed the students and you all made your way towards your common rooms. Since it was the first day back, teachers were making sure students went directly to their rooms, leaving you no time to find the Slytherins. You decided it would be best for you to just wait until tomorrow, though you thought you might implode if you spent one more second away from Theo. A thought that made you feel instantly guilty when Dean appeared at your side.

~~

The next day rolled around, and still you hadn’t been able to get ahold of the Slytherins. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have assumed they had been avoiding you. Finally, right before lunch you entered the library to grab some books when you saw the boys congregated in the back. You made your way over to them, carefully stepping around the stacks of books Madame Pince was reorganizing.

Once you finally reached the group, you went to announce your presence before Theo looked away from Draco (who was telling some boring anecdote) and looked down at you. Before you had any time to give him a smile or say your hello’s, he detached himself from the group and stormed right past you, through the stacks of books, and out the door. You stood shocked, facing the doors before finally turning back around to face the group. Your face was painted with an expression of confusion, which only deepened you received a nasty look from Enzo.

“We’ll be on our way now.” Said Enzo, walking past you with Blaise following close behind.

What..?” You finally managed to get out in your state of shock.

“Listen, y/n, just do us all a favor and leave us alone, especially Theo.” Mattheo said, in quite a rude tone before walking passed you. You stood confused and shocked at the interaction that had just unfolded. What had you done? Why were the boys mad at you? What had you done to Theo?

~~~

“I just have no idea what it could possibly be.” You said to Hermione, as you paced around your dorm room, recounting the story from earlier.

“Maybe it’s Dean. Maybe he’s just jealous.” Hermione offered.

“No, but I’ve had flings with guys before, and it’s not like he hasn’t been with girls before. It’s some thing deeper than that I know it.” You state, picking at your fingernails.

“And your sure you haven’t done anything? I mean you can’t think of one thing that could possibly have led to this?” Hermione asks, just as confused about the situation as you.

“Yes, I mean I literally cannot think of one thing that could have led to this. I would never hurt Theo, ever.” You say, plopping down on you bed, exasperated by the days events.

“I’m sorry y/n but I have absolutely no idea why they’re acting like this.” Hermione said, sad she couldn’t be of more help.

“It’s fine Hermione, it’s not your fault. I’m just going to go to bed.” You say, wanting this nightmare to end.

Could you really be losing your best friend to a reason unknown to you? Not only can you not be with the man that you love because he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings, but now you may have just lost him completely. You fall asleep after hours of rolling back and forth contemplating your complicated relationship with Theo, and even in your unconscious state you cannot escape him because he peeps into your dreams.

~~~

The following week is agony. Your best friend won’t talk to you, let alone allow himself to be in the same room as you, the boys you’ve known since childhood give you nasty looks every chance they get, you have to entertain a relationship with Dean your not even sure you want to get into and your teachers are stuffing you with assignments. All you need is a good party with lots and lots of alcohol. Once Friday afternoon finally rolls around, you can feel a slight weight lift from your shoulders.

~~~

You walked into the Slytherin common room with Dean. Pansy, Daphne and some other Slytherin girls hosted the first party since break and seeing as you’ve been close with them since 1st year, you were clearly invited. You decided you were going to look your absolute best for this party: you’re makeup was flawless, your hair done to perfection, and the corset and low-waisted mini skirt you were wearing was doing your figure perfect justice.

“Fuck me.” Said Theo as he saw you walk in with Dean. “I’m going for a smoke outside.” He says.

“Need company?” Mattheo asks, not wanting to leave his vulnerable friend alone.

“Nah mate, thanks though.” He says, before walking outside quickly, before he can see anymore of you.

It had only been a few minutes, and you had already downed about 3 drinks. Once the alcohol started to hit, you detached yourself from Dean’s grip making up some excuse, before finding your way towards the Slytherin boys.

You spotted Mattheo sitting on the arm rest of a couch, sipping out of a plastic cup. You walked up to him, hips still swaying to the music.

“Where’s Theo?” You stated, once you reached him, your confidence booming.

“What do you want?” Mattheo asks, looking up at you with contempt.

“I need to find Theodore Nott. Where is he?” You state.

“You have some serious nerve.”

“What?” You ask, taken aback.

“Listen, y/n, you’re once of my closest friends, but Theo’s my best mate. And what you did, that shit’s just fucked up. Like seriously, I didn’t even know you were capable of that.” He says, disgust leaking out of his words.

“I’m sorry?” You say, confused by his words.

“Merlin y/n, I mean how dull can you be? You just expect everything to be all right after you not only completely ignore his letter where he fucking tells you he fucking loved you, but you turn up with some Levski (famous quidditch chaser) wannabe? I mean that’s some next level shit.” Mattheo says, getting up as he presents his rage induced speech.

“What letter?” You say, unaware of what he’s talking about.

Mattheo just stares at you, stuttering to get some words out.

“I said: what letter, Mattheo?” You say, much more sternly.

“Wait, so you’re telling me you never received it?” Mattheo asks, in shock.

“I don’t even know what I didn’t receive.” You say, exasperated.

“Just, wait right here, I’ll be right back!” Mattheo says, before running up the stairs towards the dorms.

You stand there in shock, your adrenaline pumping. Had you heard him right? Theo had sent you a letter confessing his love to you? How had you missed it?

“Here! Here! I have it!” Mattheo yelled, running towards you, waving a piece of parchment around in his hand.

“This. One.” Mattheo says, between breaths as he reaches you, handing you the parchment.

You rip it from his hands, reading it quickly yet thoroughly. Tears brim at your eyes, did he really feel this way? Merlin you felt so stupid, how could this have gotten lost?

“I-I…” you stuttered, unaware of what to say.

“Outside. He’s outside. Go!” Mattheo said, stilling catching his break.

“I- ok, thank you!” You say, before quickly running out the door, finding your way outside.

You see Theo sitting outside, smoking a cigarette. His face is illuminated by the moonlight and you swear in that moment that you’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

“Theo! Theodore!” You yell to him, as you run towards his figure. The grass was still wet from the rain that had fallen earlier that day, and the blades of grass began to stick to your calfs.

Theo looks at you, before getting up and attempting to escape you.

“Theo, wait, please! Mattheo just showed me the letter! I never got it!”

He stopped in his tracks, and slowly turned around.

“What?”

You finally catch up to him, breathing heavily.

“I never got your letter, I didn’t know about it until just now.” You explain, showing him the letter Mattheo had given you.

“What?” He said again, bewildered by what was going on.

“I wasn’t ignoring you, or your feelings. I just never got to read about them until tonight.”

“So, you’re telling me you never received it, at all?”

“No. I never got a letter.” You explain, your eyes searching his for some hint of how he was feeling.

“Did you read it?” Theo asked slowly.

“Yes, just now I did.”

“And…” Theo asked, hope returning to him and hitting him like a truck. He was filled with anxieties and he felts his stomach doing flips waiting for you to answer.

“Of course I’m in love with you, I thought I made it so obvious!”

“I thought I made it obvious!” Theo said with a laugh, all negative feelings and thoughts leaving his body and head at your confession.

“My heart quite literally beats for you, Teddy. I’ve never been so scared then when I thought I was losing you.”

“Really?” He asks. His eyes are lit up and he can barely contain his smile

“Yes you idiot!” You say, smiling wildly

“What about Dean?” He asks, afraid.

“Fuck Dean! It’s only ever been you, Teddy. It’ll always be you.” You say, staring up at him with nothing but love and devotion.

“Does this mean that you’ll have me?” He asks, grabbing your hands.

You nod vigorously, unable to get any words out as tears of happiness are threatening to spill if you utter a single word.

And with that, Theo dips down and kisses you. The kiss is deep and passionate. You two explore each others mouths, and your hands explore each others body. You taste every bit of each other, and feel each others hair, faces, arms, waists, chests, in ways that you’ve never felt before. You take this chance to make up for all the lost time you’ve spent pining for each other in secret. The kiss is hungry, yet gentle and Theo holds you close, as if if he doesn’t hold you as tightly as possible you’ll slip away from him. After a few minutes he pulls away, touching your forehead to his and holding your face in his hands.

“I’m so so sorry for believing the worst in you. I was just in so much pain. Ignoring you was the hardest thing I’ve ever done” He states, referring to the week prior.

“It’s ok, Teddy. Let’s not worry about that now.” You say, causing his lips to come crashing down on yours again.

[aeyn]

Sunlight.

DEAD!Megumi x Grieving! Reader

summary: In the wake of Megumi's death, you're left haunted by the quiet moments you've shared, the unspoken words, and the last goodbye that never came. Clinging to the memories of a love that felt unfinished, replaying the moments you wish you could have held onto forever. Grief, in all its silence, becomes a space you learn to inhabit, where the echoes of your lost connection linger just out of reach.

WARNINGS: (mentioned) character death, depression, ANGST!!!!!!!, heartbreak

Word count : 1134 words (I thought it would be short, but i just kept going with it and here we are....)

a/n: First time writing something super angsty!!! I hope you all enjoyed it... I think I did really well! (˶˃ᆺ˂˶) ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

You didn’t say much that morning. But that wasn’t unusual. You never did.

You stood by the door for a second longer than usual. Glanced back at me. And in your eyes—just for a moment— there was something soft. Something final.

I should’ve noticed. Should’ve asked why you weren’t wearing that fake bored look you always put on before missions. Should’ve stopped pretending I was too busy to get up and kiss you goodbye.

But I didn’t. I waved. Lazy. Distracted. Said, “Don’t die, dumbass.”

And you huffed a laugh. That almost-smile. Then turned and left.

No last words. No “I love you.” Not even a real look.

Just the soft click of the door closing.

And now I keep replaying that moment, over and over, like if I stare at it long enough, I’ll see something I missed.

A message. A sign. A warning.

But there’s nothing. Just you, fading into the morning light, shoulders squared like always, like you were walking into something you’d already accepted.

You always were like that— quiet, distant,

I know now— you were protecting me. Not just from the mission. From the goodbye.

Because if you had said anything real, anything final, I would’ve shattered right there.

But you knew me. Knew I needed to believe you'd be back. So you gave me silence. And left all the words unspoken.

Now I cling to them. The ones you never said. The look you gave me like it might’ve been enough. The quiet care folded into every goodbye you never made a big deal of.

I never got to say it back. But I hope you knew. Hope my half-wave meant please come back, and my lazy grin meant I need you, and my stupid parting words meant I love you more than I know how to say.

I hope you carried that with you. To wherever you are. Wherever you went.

Because I still carry you— in the silence. In the warmth that lingers. In the things we never said but always meant.

Some days, I still set a place for you. Not a real one. Not forks and plates. But a space—next to me, in the quiet. In the pauses between songs. In the second half of a sentence I never finish anymore.

I don’t think people vanish. Not really. You’ve just… sunk beneath the surface of everything.

You’re in the smell of summer pavement after rain. In the echo of a laugh I hear once and never again. In the way I turn, sometimes, too fast—thinking you're there. And the second after, when I remember.

You would’ve hated how soft I am now. How small I’ve gotten. I used to be louder around you. Stranger. Braver. Real.

Now I just exist. Sleep. Wake. Float.

Some days I still wonder what you were thinking. Before. When the silence started pressing too hard, when the light got too far away.

Did you know I would miss you like this? Like a phantom limb? Like an entire future collapsing in slow motion?

I still dream of you. Not as a ghost. Not as someone gone. But as you were—messy, warm, your sharp eyes, good with the dogs, awkward.

You always knew how to ruin me with a smile.

And when I wake up— when the dream folds shut like a book I never finished— there’s that moment. Where the air remembers you.

Where the world almost feels like it did before.

And I just lie there. Quiet. Staring at the ceiling like maybe you’ll come back with the morning light.

You don’t.

But I keep waking up anyway.

If I could stay in a moment… Yeah. I think I would.

But only that one. The one that slipped past like sunlight on water— brief, warm, gone before I could hold it.

It wasn’t anything special. Just your laugh, maybe. The way your voice stumbled when you were too tired to filter your thoughts. The way we both said nothing, and it still meant everything.

I replay it sometimes. That soft little second in the blur of days. You looked at me as if I were made of light. Me pretending I didn’t notice.

But I did. God, I did.

And now it’s fading.

Like all beautiful things do—too fast, too quiet, too soon.

I try to keep it. Bottle it up, hide it away, memorize the sound of it. But it slips. It always slips.

And maybe I was never meant to keep you. Maybe we were always going to be this—just a blink between lifetimes. Something bright and impossible and almost.

But still, I find myself reaching— in dreams, in quiet hours, in the soft hush of early morning— hoping, maybe, you’re doing the same.

Just for a moment. Just one.

You and me. Caught between the seconds. Still turning, still drifting, Still almost real.

I woke up like usual,

flipping to my side, and you’re still not there.

If I could’ve said something that mattered… Yeah. I think I would have.

But it all happened so fast. Too fast to hold. Too fast to save.

One minute, you were laughing like the world couldn’t touch you. And then— just air. Just a silence too big to fill.

People said it was peaceful. That you didn’t feel a thing. But I think they said that for me, not for you. Because I felt it. The echo where your voice should’ve been. The coldness in places you once warmed.

You were gone, and the sky didn’t change.

I hate that.

I hate that the world kept spinning, like you were never here at all.

But I remember.

I remember the exact shape of your presence— the way time curved when you smiled, the way your fingertips lingered a second too long, like you were always about to say goodbye but never quite did.

Maybe you knew. Maybe you knew.

And maybe I didn’t want to believe it.

Now, I go back to where you still exist— the songs we shared, the notes you left, the way your name looks written in my handwriting. 

Your jacket still lingered of your scent.

Your toothbrush is still hanging in my bathroom cabinet.

It’s like you’re going to be back, but I promised myself.

I can’t keep deceiving myself with lies like those. 

You’re not going to be back. Not to collect your toiletries,

And even more so not to collect the memories we’ve shared together. 

And so I replay it— the moment before you left. The last laugh. The last word. The last time you looked at me like I was something worth staying for.

The world spins, but I stay still. In the memory of you. In the breath before the end. In the place where I almost kept you.

[ggyuha]

tainted / sukuna

[ summary ] : you can’t satisfy yourself anymore and a devil sent from below can help you with just that. ( wc is 2.3k )

[ c/w ] : dom!incubus!sukuna x afab!reader, unprotected piv, degrading, pussy slapping, choking, oral (f receiving), fingering, edging

[ note ] : i’m sorry for disappearing on y’all, school is fucking me over (wished it was my bbgs instead) but here you go! a little peace offering :D also my reqs r open so just slide into asks if u have any requests ^^

“come on…” impatience and desperation wrapped your voice like blankets. you continued to pleasure yourself, the tip of your finger rubbing slow, desperate circles on your throbbing nub, seeking to get yourself to finish—but frustration washed over you though when you realised that you can’t make yourself reach orgasm. how long have you been doing this? minutes? hours?

feeling defeated, you let your arms fall beside your half-naked body. tears damped your eyes as you shut them too tightly, feeling the throb in your temples. you opened them again and stared at your ceiling—too long, too pathetically. your thoughts began to unravel, flowing in your head like a melody—a perverse melody. there’s a feeling, churning in the pits of your abdomen, waiting to be released and no matter how much the dirty thoughts stimulated you, the feeling of your own skin against you just doesn’t do the trick anymore.

your room’s temperature felt like it dropped suddenly. you pulled your duvet to cover your thinly cladded body yet the coldness persisted. it’s already mid summer so it’s quite impossible to feel such chilliness, especially when the nights haven’t been going down to 26 yet, at the very least.

you heard a creak not far from your bed. it sounded like your chair on the corner of your room under someone’s weight, like someone sat down. you could barely keep your eyes open from the fatigue and sleepiness and so with half-lidded eyes, you looked around your room. near the corner, you could make out a dark silhouette of a tall creature, manspreading on your chair.

“hello,” it spoke. your heart started pounding against your chest, the thin clothes barely helping with drowning the noise. thump thump thump. “you called for me.” this time, you could recognise that it was a man’s voice. it was deep and seductive or maybe you were just too stimulated but you could feel your core pulsating.

“i did not call for anyone,” you replied in a hushed tone, too disoriented to question his presence. you pulled up the blanket while you sit up on the bed, leaning on one of your elbows. the strange man stood up and walked to your direction and when the moonlight hit his features, you could only let out a gasp—your breath and words tied together, somewhere in the back of your head but your tongue couldn’t do its job.

“is that right?”

his skin was pale and almost glowing, his coloured hair was tousled and messy and thick lines of what seemed like tattoos covered the outlines of his face and his torso. he had a taunting and dangerous expression; sharp, smug eyes, a tall nose and plump lips, a tantalising smile plastered on his beauty. his torso was bare, his defined muscles and abdomen were all for you to stare at. he had white loose pants hanging on his slim waist and behind him, oh behind him was a devil’s tail.

so pretty yet so strange. you knew what he was but you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it. of course, it’s absurd—no matter how needy you felt, there’s just no way someone like him would magically appear in front of you… right?

he took a step forward, and another, and another. in a flash, he was already dangerously close to you, standing but a few inches away. you could smell his scent—strong and minty.

he caressed your left cheek with his hand. you instinctively looked up at him. he chuckled at your reaction, keeping his stupid smirk on his stupid lips. “didn’t call for me, huh? yet here you are, lookin’ at me like that.” he bent forward, his nose brushing against yours. “tell me, girl; tell me why i’m really here.” his tail began tracing your skin, starting from the ankle and up, up, up then—gasp—it drew circles on your inner thighs. it was barely something but it felt too close to the pooling wetness between your legs that you could already feel yourself going wild. “i… i—” you couldn’t focus. all you could think about was what you wanted to happen, right now. he’s strange, he’s sin itself but you wanted him to take you. you wanted him to make you feel good.

“say it,” he grunted. this time, his free hand gripped your waist to pull you closer. you swallowed the lump in your throat and opened your lips. “i want you to take me,” you said, “i want you.” he raised his brows, seemingly unsatisfied with your answer. nonetheless, it was the only thing he needed before he started owning your lips. he pulled and suckled on your lower lip especially before swiping the tip of his tongue in between your lips, demanding permission to slip into your warm mouth.

when he did, he played with your tongue like it was the most normal thing to do, swirling and sucking. you were dying for him to touch you everywhere, anywhere but you remained patient. his mouth finally left your lips and traced wet kisses from your cheek to your jaw to your neck. when he sucked your skin and bit on it, you couldn’t help but moan for him softly. he did this some more, teeth and tongue leaving your neck darkly bruised.

you could feel him leaning in harder. in no time, he had you pinned down on your bed. he held your hands on top of your head while his mouth traveled your skin. he left more marks on your collarbones and then his mouth finally found your chest. he was slow with his movements, teasing as he calmly pulled your tank top over your head before his head leaned back down to bite your skin, your chest, cleavage and the very flesh of your tits covered with hickeys.

his tongue circled around your hard nipple and then sucked on it, your other breast was being fondled by his free hand, nipples pinched between his long fingers. you let out warm breaths and soft whimpers. you couldn’t look at him at all until you felt his kisses began trailing down and down and down. you gasped. “wait—” your eyes met his and it was clear to you or to anyone that could’ve seen it, that it was filled with nothing but lust.

he gave you a lopsided smirk. his hands worked their way around your thighs, opening them as widely as he pleased. you wanted to take your eyes off of the view in embarrassment but you were curious and needy. when you gave no protest, he leaned down and gave your clit a light peck which earned a yelp. you could feel him smirking against your skin. with the flat of his tongue, he began licking your folds gathering your sweet taste before he focused on your throbbing clit and the sensation had you closing your eyes and bending your feet.

he increased the intensity, stiffening his tongue to flick on your bundle of nerves with its tip, working you up with a nasty set of patterns, making filthy sounds while messily eating you out like a starved man—or devil—and soon he had you squirming and wriggling. he spat on your clit, alternating between sucking and licking. you were close, you could feel the familiar tensing of your thighs and your abdomen but then he stopped. you let out a groan of protest. “wait, no! oh god, i was close.” frustration, once again, washed over you. he wiped his face with the back of his hand and gave you a smug look. you wanted to push your hips against his mouth but he got up and his upper half towered over you.

“what a brat,” he said. you furrowed your brows at him and got slightly up to grab his hips. your futile try of taking over was soon put to an end when he pushed you down, his hand gripping your slim neck. he wasn’t choking you exactly but you could still feel the pressure against your throat. “couldn’t wait ‘til i make you cum?” he asked mockingly. you stared at his dark eyes, waiting impatiently for him to do something. “sorry, yeah, please…” you could barely speak. “too polite when needy, huh.” he let your throat go and for a moment, you missed the dangerous grip he just had around your neck.

he pressed his big palm on your abdomen and you watched him as he swiped the pad of his middle finger along your slicked cunt. it earned him a whine, pretty little sound, and he pushed it in. “hng,” you moaned as he thrusted the digit slowly while curling it to touch that sweet spot up your insides.

“like it?” he asked with a smirk. you nodded frantically and he snorted. “‘course you do, you whore.” his tail joined in once more, tracing teasing circles on your inner thigh before pressing against your clit with good pressure. “god!” you yelped as he inserted another digit, his juice coated fingers pumping your insides intensely, curling them to touch your g-spot while the tip of his tail was slow in its ministration.

“god?” he raised a brow at you, looking you with distaste, “dumb bitch. god isn’t here. the devil’s fucking you, ain’t he now?”

you don’t know when did he pull his pants down but he pulled his fingers out, his tail trailing up your body, leaving a nasty string of your juices on your abdomen up to your chest then it wrapped around your throat, just beneath your jaw. you inhaled shakily and he could feel your heart pulsing on your neck.

he wrapped a fist around his length, pulling the foreskin down and you saw how red, how angry his tip is, leaking with precum already. “i—i don’t know about this…” you whispered breathlessly, “i’m not sure it’ll fit.”

“shut the fuck up. horny little bitch, can’t take a good cock when you’re the one that summoned me here?”

he knelt between your parted legs, his dick in his large palm, the tip teasingly gliding along your slicked pussy. you whined and looked at him with pleading eyes. he’s just being downright mean.

he smirked at your pathetic expression and without warning, pushed past your entrance. you gasped at how much he’s stretching you and he wasn’t even halfway in yet. “so fuckin’ wet f’me.” he mumbled and bottomed out, the sudden stretch making you shriek in pain.

he eyed you with impatience, giving you a bit of time to adjust before he began moving. you could feel yourself clenching every time he pushed back in; his tip hitting your hilt so perfectly. you weren’t even over yet with how magnetic this all felt when he started rubbing circles on your clit. “nooo,” you whined, “too much. too much.” but you couldn’t stop moaning. every touch, every move he made felt electric to you—sending you all waves of pleasure. “fucking slut.” he growled while his other hand gripped your hips aggressively. you were moaning so much that breathing out was almost impossible. every time your mouth parted, only a whine or a moan came out.

he cursed you once more and truth be told, you couldn’t care less as long as he kept rocking his hips into you. you could barely hear him now that there’s a faint ringing in your ears. he began thrusting harder, this time his tip aggressively hitting against your hilt, his shaft grazing all the good spots without even trying. it felt good, oh god it was so good.

“fuck, please… more.” he smirked once again. “‘s that right? want me to break you, girl?” his tail unwrapped around your neck to tease your erect nipples, rubbing circles around them before giving them a rough pinch. at this point, you believed you felt at peak. your thigh began tensing, you were practically squeezing his cock with his every thrust. “close… close,” you couldn’t even form a sentence but he understood well; and perhaps it was a bad thing that he did because he started slowing down and rocking softly.

“fucking beg for it, you desperate whore,” he said. your patience was already wearing thin so any trace of shame already left you long ago. “harder, please. i wanna cum, please, i’m cumming—” the room was filled with nasty squelching sounds, his skin slapping yours. he pulled out, save for the tip of his dick, angling it just to push back in and hit that spongy spot mercilessly with rough thrusts. “that’s right. cum all over my cock, you pathetic human.” you moaned loudly, agreeing with anything he’s got to say to you. fine, you’re no better than a slut, fine, you’re so fucking desperate but at least he got you reaching climax so hard, you could see stars.

“shit, that’s it. keep clenching, baby. you’re so tight,” his thrusts became sloppy, ramming into your pussy with urgency. you could feel him twitch inside you and with a few more thrusts, your hips bucked upwards, riding your crashing orgasm while he filled your womb with ropes of his cum, rocking into you with stuttering movements as he finished inside you.

you can tell that he came a lot but again, it probably isn’t unusual for his kind. he pulled out with a pop and his eyes glanced down at your twitching cunt, his cum oozing out. he took two fingers and fucked them back in you. “take it all, slut.”

he pulled his fingers out and returned his focus on you with a condescending expression. he caught you trying to close your eyes and he slapped your sensitive clit. “shit!” you yelped with an alarmed look and whimpered involuntarily. “you think you deserve rest? stupid bitch. i didn’t come here for nothing.”

he flipped you over on your stomach, his big hand pressing the back of your head, your cheek buried on your pillow. “lift that ass up. i’m gonna fuck you ‘til i get my fill, got that?”

[visceravalentines]

folger's, eat your heart out

oh my god this got away from me so bad it's wanted in twelve states. but it's done (is anything ever done) and i'm.......i'm quite happy with it. i really hope you like it.

4.3k words. canon divergence, boys on the run. established relationship. character study, lots of introspection. implied sexual content, nothing too explicit. so much kissing. hand job. light s/m. night terrors and vague mention of canon-typical trauma. mostly soft, so soft. benson is so in love and doesn't know it yet <3

read on ao3 here if that's more your speed.

It’s a Tuesday. Benson knows this because his eyes snap open automatically at five in the morning even though he hasn’t set an alarm in weeks. He opens on Tuesdays, been on that schedule for so long he doesn’t even need the alarm anymore anyways. 

Well, he used to open on Tuesdays. 

He wakes up slow. Gets a savage satisfaction out of being somewhere unfamiliar, revels in it. With bleary eyes he traces the outline of the water damage on the ceiling and it’s different than the one back home. Room smells different too, stale sweat and dust and complimentary green tea bar soap. The mattress is too fucking soft, folds around him like dough. His spine is electric with pain. 

Fuck, he’s getting old. Twenty-nine going on fifty. 

He drags a hand over his face and wishes he could fall back asleep. Not going to happen. Not a chance with this marshmallow bed and the sun popping its stupid Raisin Bran fucking face through the blinds. Benson sleeps dark and cold and silent with his back to the wall. Arms locked in front of his chest like armor. Like a corpse on a slab. 

Or he used to, anyway. 

He can’t feel his left arm. He pushes his chin into his throat at an odd angle to look down at Randy, still asleep, curled up on Benson’s chest like a sandy-colored cat. His hands are tucked together, long, knobby fingers folded over each other, resting in the center of Benson’s ribs. The sun takes each strand of his hair and wraps it in gold, even his eyelashes, laying long and pretty on his cheeks. 

Fuck Folger’s. Nothing comes close to this. 

It’s surreal, still. Being here, being anywhere, together. Like, together. Unbelievable the way he fits so neatly under Benson’s arm. He rests his lips against the crown of Randy’s head. He does it because he wants to, because he can. He inhales slow and deep and he smells warm and bright and a little grimey. Like summer. Like sweat and mud and the most beautiful blue sky you’ve ever seen. Fucking perfect, he’s perfect. 

He's peaceful now, which is saying something. Randy’s a terrible sleeper. Sharing a bed with him is punishing. He thrashes in his sleep, digs elbows into Benson’s ribs and jolts him awake in a panic ready to fight, and then Benson has to stare into the abyss and count to a thousand before he can calm the fuck down and drift off again. 

He never talks about his nightmares. Benson knows he has them, but he knows better than to ask about shit like that. On occasion he’ll wake up to Randy tugging on his arm, pulling it around him like a security blanket. He doesn’t mind that in the least, rolls over half asleep and wraps himself around Randy’s sweat-soaked body. He pins his arms to his sides for both their sakes, buries his face against the back of his neck, and that’s that. Problem solved. 

Benson, on the other hand, sleeps like the dead–save for the nights he wakes up screaming and doesn’t realize he’s doing it. Doesn't even know he's awake until he sees Randy’s face floating above him in the dark, wide-eyed like some twig-limbed owl. Until he feels his hands on his face, wiping salt from his cheeks. 

Shit sucks, because then he has to turn all the lights on and pace the room, chewing on a cigarette and cracking his neck ‘til it's sore, trying to walk it off. Randy sits on the bed hugging his knees to his chest and watches him like a hawk. But he doesn't speak, doesn't try to push it, waits patiently until Benson crawls back into bed and lets him decide where he wants to be. 

He can't stand to be touched during and after those episodes, always hated when his ma would try to smother him when he was still young enough to smother, but funny enough, Randy’s okay. Doesn't seem to count. Maybe it's because he lets him set the pace and doesn't get his feelings hurt when Benson curls up on the edge of the mattress with pillows stacked between them. Either way, most times Benson falls back asleep with his head tucked into the hollow of Randy's neck and those skinny arms slung around his shoulders. And the light on.

The night terrors aren’t new, but it’s been a while since they’ve been this bad. It’s like they’ve worked their way to the surface of his brain. Like a splinter finding its way out of the skin. He doesn’t like Randy seeing him that way, but he can’t really help it. He used to sleep on his stomach with his face in the pillow so he wouldn’t wake Ma and have to deal with her on top of everything else, but he had so many nightmares about suffocating he can't do it anymore. 

But Randy never lets Benson apologize in the morning, insists he doesn't mind being woken up. He's told him that again and again, so often that Benson’s starting to believe him. They’re both fucked in the head just enough that it makes it okay. No hard feelings. 

Last night was quiet for both of them, for once. Benson wishes he was still asleep to take advantage of it, but this is nice too. He can feel Randy’s breath on his collarbone and it’s driving him crazy, a little bit. He’s not used to nice things. He’s always scared he’s gonna fuck them up somehow. Sometimes he wants to fuck them up. Track mud across the carpet, break a dish. Say the wrong thing. Bite down too hard. 

He’s learning how to be gentle. He’s trying, like, really trying. Randy doesn’t make it easy, that’s for damn sure. The way he whimpers when Benson’s hands are on him isn’t fucking fair. The way he bares his throat and gasps and begs. And then he shows Benson the marks afterwards like he’s proud of them, like Benson wasn’t there when he got them. 

“You did a number on me,” he said last night with this sheepish grin, almost giddy, leaning over the sink to look at himself in the mirror. Prodding at the bite mark on his shoulder, the hickies on his neck. Never mind all the shit he couldn’t see from that angle, but Benson saw it. The shape of his body all over Randy’s in bruises. 

Made him feel kinda good and kinda bad, sort of guilty, but then Randy looked over at him with those eyes, hair all mussed, bottom lip cherry red and swollen, and said with unmistakable adoration, “You’re an animal, Bence.” 

Un-fucking-fair. 

But he’s trying, he is. Trying to ease up on the reins. Trying to be soft, because Randy needs soft no matter what he asks Benson for in the dark. He can’t fuck this up. Can’t fuck him up; at least, not any more than he already has. On the list of things he’s ever wanted to fuck up in the world, Randy is at the bottom. 

And it’s good too, the lovey-dovey bullshit. It’s good. It’s great. The way Randy falls asleep on his shoulder halfway through the movie, any movie, no matter how good it is or how loud it’s turned up or how much Benson promised him he was gonna like it. The way he bumps his knuckles against Benson’s when they’re standing shoulder-to-shoulder, just because. Just to touch him. He’ll catch him smiling at him for no reason, all the time, just glance over and there he is looking like they’re on their way to Disney World. No one's ever smiled at him like that. He’s not even doing anything to earn it, he’s just living his fucking life. The fact of his existence is apparently an ongoing novelty to Randy. 

Crazy fucking kid. 

Benson feels like he’s body-swapped with someone on better terms with luck and the skin doesn’t fit quite right but fuck, he’s figuring out how to make it work. He doesn’t get handed things like this. Good things with no strings attached. He’s always kind of on edge, always waiting for someone to break down the door and haul him away. For someone to pause the laugh track and punch through the set. For Randy to suffer a moment of clarity and tell him to go fuck himself. 

He’s never had this kind of good, never expected it. Never really thought he deserved it. And Randy sure doesn't deserve this kind of bizarre sideways bullshit that makes up the best that Benson can offer. He deserves better from him. From everyone. From life. Benson keeps trying to tell him that. 

Too bad he can't quite convince him. Too bad Benson’s selfish and couldn't let go of him if he tried. Wouldn't even try. Wouldn't turn out well. 

He runs his thumb across the angle of Randy's cheekbone, feather-light. He wants to let him sleep and he wants him to wake up and he doesn’t know which he wants more. He draws lines across his cheek, from the corner of his mouth, along the edge of his jaw, carefully, carefully, so gentle his hand shakes. He’s probably never been hit in the face. Probably never had a black eye, broken nose. Shy, scared, beautiful thing. 

There’s been a violence in Benson for as long as he can remember. Bone-deep. And it’s a magnet, pulls other violence right to him like wasps to fresh meat. Sometimes he loves it, sometimes he hates it. He always falls back on it, no matter how hard he tries to leave it behind or wrap it up so tight it can’t get out. He fails again and again. But it doesn’t scare Randy anymore. In fact, it’s like Randy gives it justification. Permission. Validates it. Like maybe it’s hung around this whole time just so Benson could learn how to use it, for his sake. To protect him. At least until he figures out how to protect himself. 

And Randy’s learning, he is. Stands up taller, takes up space. Orders his own food at restaurants. But Benson kind of likes playing guard dog. Likes being needed in that way, and others. Likes being needed by Randy in particular. 

Benson’s already killed for him, so it’s like he’s always trying to find a way to top that. That should be hard, right, but Randy makes it easy. Gets excited over nothing, little shit like finding both their names on some dumb souvenir keychains. Or when he brings him a bag of plain fucking potato chips, his favorite. Or when Benson covers his eyes before the money shot in some gore flick because he’s a pussy and also it dredges up some shit for him that neither of them wants to think about. The way he lights up about that stuff, stupid little stuff, makes Benson feel worthwhile in a way he can’t describe. 

For all he goes on about helping Randy become the best version of himself, the version of himself who’s confident and decisive and knows who Trent Reznor is, sometimes Benson gets the feeling like maybe, Randy’s the one making him better. Not changing him, not really, just…making him kind of okay. Making it all kind of okay. There are so many things Benson’s taken for granted, never thought twice about. About himself, about his life, about where both of those things would end up and how they’d get there. Randy makes him reconsider. Makes it worth reconsidering. 

It feels wrong to stop him. Might as well let him try. What’s it gonna hurt?

Sometimes he wants to laugh in disbelief at it all. Who the fuck is he these days? Going soft right and left and glad for it. He feels like he’s on another planet. Hundreds of miles from home, no phone, no way back. Shooting towards the sun with everything he needs inside his shitty little rocket ship of a car. 

Randy’s a spaceman for sure, no question. Ever since they turned west and hit the desert, he hangs out the window when they drive at night through all that nothing, head craned back to look at the sky. 

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Benson asked him the first time, when he rolled down the window and started climbing out like a fucking lunatic. 

“Looking at the stars,” Randy said. “There’s so many, Benson…you should look.” 

“No thanks, I'm driving.” 

“I mean…you could stop first.”

“I’ve seen stars, Randy.” 

Randy was halfway out the window so his reply was almost lost to the wind. “Not like this.” 

Benson reached over and grabbed him by the pocket of his jeans. “If you fall out I’m leaving your ass behind.” 

He let Benson pull him back inside then, and stared right at him in this new way of his. This new, brave Randy who had finally shaken some of that paralyzing fear of confrontation and figured out how to be direct. “No you wouldn’t.” 

Benson had looked at him for as long as he could without drifting into the other lane, and then looked at him a little bit longer and had to course correct. “You’re right, I wouldn’t.” 

He’s right. He wouldn’t. 

Benson lets the memory slide away and finds Randy gazing up at him here and now, eyes crusted with sleep. He feels a twinge in his chest like a guitar string being plucked. The whole room is golden now. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, and even he can hear the velvet in his voice. Feels self-conscious about it for a second until he gets distracted by Randy wrinkling his nose to stave off a yawn. 

“Morning,” he murmurs, peels his cheek off Benson's chest and leaves a pink circle behind that matches the one on his face. He rubs at his eyes and gives him that dumb Disney World smile. “Sleep well?”  

“Slept great.” Benson swipes away a stray eye booger from the inside corner of Randy’s left eye. “Nice to have one single solitary night where I don't have to fight you to the death.”

Randy bites the inside of his cheek, looks bashful. Benson fucking loves it. “Well, I mean…you wore me out pretty good last night.”

Benson smirks, takes hold of the back of Randy’s neck and pulls him back into his shoulder. “Yeah I did. I oughta do that more often.”

Randy worms his arm beneath the covers and around Benson’s waist and it gives him honest-to-god butterflies. He runs his fingers through Randy’s hair. It's getting fucking long, almost falls past his ears. He keeps asking him to cut it and Benson keeps refusing. It's got this little flip at the ends that he thinks is cute. He bets it’ll grow out into gorgeous fucking waves when it hits his shoulders. 

He takes a fistful and squeezes, does that a couple times before he tugs his head up so they’re nose-to-nose. Randy’s eyelids slide half-closed and his lips part on reflex. 

“What you wanna do today?” Benson murmurs. He can feel Randy’s breath on his chin, licks his lips. 

“...just this,” Randy says, almost a whisper. 

“That’s it?”  

“Yeah.”  

“You’re not bored of this?”  

“No.”  

Benson almost smiles. “Me neither.”

He pushes Randy's head back down into the curve of his neck, rides the swell of satisfaction he gets from his frustrated groan. “Don’t worry, babe, we got all day. How about you, how’d you sleep?”  

“Good.”  His thumb moves back and forth along Benson’s hip and it’s electric, feels like he’s got lightning bolts shooting around under his skin, makes his muscles twitch. He’s still not used to that. Gentle shit like that. “Had a dream about you.”

“No shit?”  He’s not sure anyone’s ever dreamt about him before. He’s kinda flattered. “Was it hot?”  

Randy snorts. “No, it wasn’t…like that. We, uh…we were at the beach.”  

Benson screws up his eyebrows, looks down at Randy. He can’t see his face from this angle. “The beach?”  

“Yeah. We were just, like…there. Just messing around. I mean, there were other people there, but they didn’t…matter.”  

Benson doesn’t know what to make of this. “Huh. That’s it?  Just…beach day?”  

“Yeah. Well, I mean, until the end. A shark showed up and you…punched it so hard that it died.”  

Benson does a genuine double-take. “I punched a shark. And it died?”  

Now Randy twists, looks up at him, smiling. “Yeah. It was awesome.”  

It sounds kind of awesome. Benson pokes him in the ribs. “You’re a fucking dork.”  

“I’m just telling you what happened!”  

“Look, Randy, I’ve never been to the beach, but I’ve seen Jaws about one thousand times and I know for a fact a shark would swallow my ass whole. And it would eat you and not even know that it happened. I’m not saying I’m scared, I’m just saying, don’t count on me to save you from a fucking sea monster.”  

Randy doesn’t laugh and Benson looks at him and he’s making that face, that little frown and the line on his forehead that means that Benson just said something puzzling. Here we go. He tenses up without meaning to, braces for it. Grits his teeth, pops his knuckles. 

“You’ve…really never been to the beach?”  

Fuck, he hates this feeling. Like loss except you never had the thing in the first place. Like realizing maybe you’re supposed to be mourning something but you don’t really know what that something is or why it’s so important. He knows his upbringing wasn’t shit compared to Randy’s, compared to most kids’. He just wishes he could grow out of giving a shit about it. 

So he gets defensive. He always gets defensive. “No, I’ve never been to the fucking beach. What’s so super-duper special about a bunch of sand?  And water that’s mostly fish piss?”  

Randy props himself up on his elbow, leans lightly on Benson’s chest, completely unfazed by his attitude. “Well…let’s go. You can decide for yourself.”  

“To the beach?” Benson says incredulously. “Randy, we’re in fucking New Mexico.”  

“Not–not today.”  Randy waves his hand dismissively. “We can leave tomorrow. Make a beeline for California.”  

And that’s that. The magical realism of the newly reformed Randy Fucking Bradley. No pity. No shame. Just the simplest solution in the whole damn universe. 

“California.”  Benson pictures the Beach Boys and hippies on rollerskates, rolls his eyes. “Sounds dreamy.”  

“It’ll be worth it, Benson, I promise.”  Randy looks at him with those puppy-dog eyes, chews his lip, slides his arm around Benson’s waist. He knows what the fuck he’s doing, the little shit; he’s too smart for his own good. “We don’t have to stay. We can leave as soon as we get there. I just…I think you would like it.” He leans a little heavier against Benson’s ribs, nudges his foot with his toes. “Please?”  

Benson huffs. He’s not a fucking pushover, swear to God he’s not, but it’s like he can’t help but fold these days. He’s gonna spoil the guy rotten if he’s not careful. He has to at least pretend to put up a fight, just to say he tried. “What if I say no?”  

His brow furrows. The puppy-dog eyes flick down to his mouth and back. “Well...maybe I could convince you.”  

One of Benson’s eyebrows pops up. He likes the sound of that. “I’m listening.”  

Randy sits up unsteadily on the marshmallow mattress and straddles Benson’s hips, tucking his hands beneath the pillow on either side of his head. Benson looks up at him, the angles of his face kissed by the sun, and feels a pleasant sort of ache in his chest. It's almost the same feeling as when he finally gave in and pulled over and let Randy sit on the hood, leaned back next to him and looked up at the stars and felt big and small at the same time. 

“It’s amazing, Bence…you can't even imagine.”  His thighs press against Benson's waist, wrists press against his shoulders. 

“Yeah?” Benson licks his lips. His eyes can’t move fast enough, trying to take in every piece of his face, of his body, his name written all over all of it in red and purple. “Tell me about it.”  

Randy's hair is hanging over his face like a messy kind of halo. He peers through it with this earnest intensity, this lion cub ferocity that might be the hottest thing Benson's ever seen. He shifts his weight to one hand and strokes the sensitive spot behind Benson’s ear with his thumb, sends chills spidering across his skin. 

“The smell of the water and–and the sound. You never forget it. And it makes you feel…it’s massive. It’s amazing.” 

“You know what else is massive?”  

Randy stifles a chuckle, looks away, color rising in his cheeks. Benson grins. “Listen to me, Benson.”

“I'm listening!”

“It makes you feel…it makes you feel small, I guess. But not in a bad way. We could just walk around or maybe…swim a little bit?”

Benson pictures Randy with wet hair, dark and wavy, water rolling down his neck. Salt water, salty skin. “Could be nice.”

“We can do whatever you want.”  He curls his toes against Benson’s thighs. “We could get ice cream and sit in the sun.”

The image of melted sticky sugar dripping over Randy’s hand, down his arm, hits Benson like a truck. Knocks the wind right out of him. He thinks about licking it off, watching him suck it off his own fingers. He wraps his hands behind Randy's knees and grips harder than he means to. 

“That sounds, uh…that sounds good. I’m into that,” Benson says and he sounds like a moron in his own ears but it makes Randy smile so it's fine. He can feel the blood rushing away from his brain as fast as it can and he’s about ready to give in and end the discussion. Move on to other things. 

Randy gets that earnest, uncertain look in his eyes all the sudden and touches Benson's face, brushes his thumb across the lines at the corner of his eyes in this foreign kind of way that Benson’s brain registers passively as tenderness, and all the sudden he can't breathe right. His throat’s fucked up like he’s getting sick. He swallows hard. 

“I want to–I want to kiss you in the ocean,” Randy says quietly. “I think…I'd really like that.” 

So now this is the only thing Benson cares about. His number-one goal. A shining and glorious reason to be alive. He’s going to kiss Randy in the ocean if it’s the last thing he fucking does. 

“How about you kiss me right here, huh?”  He cups the back of Randy’s neck and pulls him in, hard, yanks him really, because he can’t fucking help it. Because he wants him right now, right fucking now. 

Randy resists, just a little, on reflex, and then gets overeager and his lips crash into Benson’s, but that’s okay. Randy kisses like he’s starved for it, always, no matter how long they’ve been at it. Even now, first thing in the fucking morning, he opens his mouth expectantly and moans when Benson slips his tongue past his teeth, one hand twisting the sheets, the other gripping his shoulder. He’s greedy, wants more, always more, is done depriving himself after fourteen years of solitude. 

They’re a perfect match because Benson wants to give it to him. Anything he wants, everything, always, no matter where they are or how much skin is showing. He wants to share his space, his spit, his air, his anger, every inch of the car, every inch of the sky. All the bad nights. All the good ones, too. All the golden mornings that come after. 

Benson laps at Randy’s bottom lip, catches it in his teeth and pulls. He digs his fingers into the half-healed shadow of his own hand on Randy’s waist from all the times before, opens his mouth to catch the gasp that wrenches free from his chest and swallows it whole. 

“Benson,” Randy says, breathes his name like an exclamation of wonder. He presses the length of his body against Benson’s, weaves his fingers through the curls at the back of his neck and squeezes tight. He moves his hips in short, subconscious little thrusts, makes a desperate, hungry noise in the back of his throat. Benson can feel him hard against his stomach and fuck, he better pop a handful of painkillers for his back because they’re not leaving this shitty bed anytime soon. 

Randy leans to the side so there’s a little breathing room between them. He runs his hand over Benson's chest, down his stomach, wraps his fingers around his dick and the sound Benson makes is strangled, animal. 

“We can go, right?” Randy says. He strokes him like he can barely contain himself. “We can leave tomorrow?”

Benson arches his aching spine against the bullshit fucking mattress, digs his nails into Randy's back, feels lucky. Feels like a spaceman. 

“Fuck yes. Fuck–yes–you got it, baby.”

Randy lights up and it's like staring into the sun. Transcendent. Fucking beautiful. 

He twists out of Benson's grasp and ducks beneath the sheets and Benson can't fucking stand it. Can’t believe it’s real. He feels weightless, so light he just might end up way out there with all the stars. Nothing comes close to this, never has, never will. It’s not fair. He probably doesn’t deserve it. But no one ever said life was fair, now, did they?  Sooner or later the odds had to end up in your favor.

He closes his eyes and grips the sheets and lets it be, lets it all be for once. Because for once, it's good. He's good. He's great. And they’re leaving tomorrow. For California.

Sounds dreamy. 

tagging a couple friends who have gassed me up and been so patient sdlkfjlsk i just adore you guys <3

@crumb @ace-of-hearts-and-spades @cherubgore

[mangosrar]

Always, i will be here.

chris sturniolo x reader

a/n: guys this one is lowkey-highkey sad but i love it so much:(

loosely based off always by Daniel Caesar!!!!

My y/n,

I wonder when i first met you, in a way that was more than just physical. I wonder when a line in a song reminded me of you, or the first time i walked past someone who carried a scent so similar to yours, that i questioned if you had just walked past me, or the first time someone made a joke so good i had to relay it to you later and pretended it was my own.

I always thought that heart break was caused by mean words said so harshly they pierce the soul. But in reality, they’re from goodbyes that weren’t told, kisses never shared and hugs never felt. These are the ingredients of a broken heart and they can never be fixed. Broken beyond repair.

The thing is even if you could go back, you wouldnt belong there anymore. I still perform autopsies on conversations we had lives ago. They could hook me up to a polygraph and ask me if i still love you, i would say no, and the line would jump and stutter in the exact pattern of your laugh. It feels better to die at your hands y/n, than to never have felt them at all. The heart has its own memory, and i have forgotern nothing, so dont set me on fire and act like you're the one burning.

I remember once you told me you killed a plant by feeding it too much water, and now you worry love is voilence and i know i always say you hold on to too much and every time you reply; asking me where you should put it down. This is starting to look like a contest of who cares less but i liked it better when you were on my side. Im afraid i will love you for the rest of my life and we will never be in the same room again, and im worried the amount of time we have left together is limited so please lingre near the door or forget your jacket and come back for it later. Please just tell me that im not as forgetable as your absence is making me feel. You only hate the people you love, and i know i could never be someone you dont like.

But surrounded by the churches and the dirt, i fell in love with you here. I had never told you. I wish i was braver. It's okay to not be who you thought you would be. But now summer is almost over, my feelings didnt change, and you aren't coming back. But always, i will be here y/n.

My Chris,

Christopher Owen Sturniolo, you have siezed my spine, took my bones and left me to melt into a sticky pile of mush where my body used to be.

I have spent half of my life loving you, and the other half figuring out my love for you. If i could write a book on all the things i wished you would have said, i would run out of pages. I feel like a kid at christmas whos been hopelessly dreaming about getting a pony,only to be given socks. I pushed you out and now youre so far away i cant even reach for you. I could call you a hundred names and scream and shout about why you were awful. But where would that leave me. I still loved you. I still have to live with that.

Its like youve taken a part of me and left it where i cant find it. I tried to forgive you, so i could move on, but how is that possible when i find you in every song, every tone, every frequency and every static. My brain cannot move an inch without bumping into some part of you. You are just a burning house that i want to live in, so why can't you let me put you out?

I wish you had left me wondering. I think it would have hurt much less if i never knew what made you fall out of love with me. You held me tight as i weeped like a little girl who had just dropped her ice cream, you kissed the top of my head and rocked us back and forth. You muffled my sobs with your lips. You whispered sweet nothings to me as i cried in your arms. You wiped the tears that fell for the heart you broke. You told me there will always be a piece of your heart that belongs to me. You have stained me. Tainted and bruised my soul. You told me that you’ve never had a love like ours and never will. You said that you’re future wife will know about me. Your kids will learn what love is through the stories you tell them about us. And suddenly, im at the kitchen table. Crying. Wondering what went wrong. But always, i will be here chris.

@christinarowie332 @jcwrites-blog @sturnphilia @biimpanicking @sssturniolofart @lividnity

LMK WHAT YALL THINK!!!!

[valentine-cafe]

Another (probably dark inducing) idea for the 209s.

So... Imagine that the reader is as much as they know are just a totaly normal worker/assistant/"bring me coffee" person. But one day they notice that their body is started to turn invisible.

But for now it's only partial and places they can cover, like upper parts of the limbs, torso, and maybe feet since its in the shooe. (Like if they pulled up their shleev there would be a big pach of nothing.)

When they realised what's going on they filled the form to quit but there is still that little time before they can actually not come anymore. And so they are super paranoid about this stuff spreading because if the bosses notice it...

It way already weird for their collegues that they wear more clothes than before, but they lied about having some condition that makes them feel more cold an that passed.

But just a little before they could be looking for another place the boss calls them...

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ verse 209 rishen & jìngyí

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍪 ꒱ spider monster x reader, mantis monster x reader, moth monster x reader, mad scientist x reader, villains x reader, yandere x reader, cw: biting and marking, blood mention ⊹ ۪ ࣪

Oh Rishen would be the first one to call for you, his voice almost echoing through the hallway as he approached you slowly. heels clacking against the marble floors. leaving the anxiety rising rapidly.

you’d look over your shoulder very discreetly with the one half of your face that wasn’t slowly becoming invisible and you swallow hard, clearing your throat and smiling at the man approaching you.

but dread runs deep. when you hear the voice of your other boss calling for you on the other end of the hallway. The end that of course, faced you directly.

“Mr. Herrera, Dr. Herrera — what can I do for you?” you stammer quietly, with an attempt to hide away as much as possible. they approach you slowly, the pace of walk almost turning into a stalk.

“We’ve been getting a few concerned notices from some of your co-workers, dear, dressing a little too much in summer. people are worried you are going to give yourself a heatstroke.” Rishen would mumble, reaching out to you and placing a hand on your shoulder.

you don’t move, you don’t dare move. If you move, who knows what will happen — are they both onto you? or are they simply here out of concern. No not when it is the both of them. They don’t do that.

They only do that when. . .

“And though you suffer from this condition of yours, this was never stated when you first signed in.” Jìngyí hummed out and stood close to you, caging you between the wall, Rishen and him.

“I don’t know what you are entailing Dr. Herrera, I am simply dressing for a condition I’ve recently developed, that is all — “

“Then why have you not come by the clinic?” He inquires, with a brow raised and a dissatisfied expression on his face.

“Now let us not mention the abrupt notice that you no longer wish to work here, what could we do to make your experiences here better hm?” Rishen asks on the side, tilting his head and tightening the grasp on your shoulder.

“I think you’re hiding something else.” He whispers, maroon eyes gliding down to your neck. Nothing, there is nothing.

You understand now — he had tried to shift the fabric of your shirt to see any speck of skin you would use to show.

“Oh dear, would you look at that. Is that not something, we should sit down and talk about a bit more. In the clinic?”

[astraystayyh]

here is the essay that no one asked for because long for you is my fav hyunjin song and one of my all time favorite songs (it spoke to the yearner in me)

first the hauntingly beautiful melody 😭 as soon as i heard the whistles in the beginning i thought of the melancholic chirping of birds that feels like they’re calling out to someone who is far out of their reach, and it just sets the tone for this excruciating nostalgia throughout the song, for a time that has passed that we cannot go back to again.

at the beginning i thought this was about longing for a loved one but when hyunjin said that it’s about ‘missing your past that has lost its shine, and therefore longing for everything from back then’ the song just got more devastating for me, because (imo) this song is about longing for a past version of yourself that you lost and that you had to relinquish and that you never wished to part from, and hyunjin weaved this yearning for someone who technically doesn’t exist anymore so so well :,)

When was the last time we walked side by side

to me this could be about this kind of dichotomy that you feel within yourself when you can no longer recognize who you are and when you kind of lose sense of what you love and who you wish to be. And you no longer feel as if your past selves and your present ones are in harmony, walking side by side, but rather that your present self tries to go backwards to reach for your past self when the only possible trajectory for it is to go forward

In the faded photo, I come across a smile. Spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

again with the longing for your past self, clinging to photos that have faded with how much time has passed and yet you still wish for the smile you had, long ago, to come once again. i relate to this so much because there was a time where i looked back to my old photos and i just missed how smiling came so easily to me back then instead of feeling like a chore. a smile that once withstood the changing seasons, but that is now a simple memory

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal. I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes

hyunjin and the loneliness that only manifests at night :(( just like in cover me he manages to perfectly convey the cold and daunting feelings that come with being lonely,, also the act of waking up and closing your eyes right after, as if you wish to wake up in any reality but your own

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away

OHHH this one had a little (huge) kick to it, this verse is just so poetic and so full of emotions im unwell :(( white often symbolizes purity and beginnings and its referencing to a time where your existence wasn’t tainted by anything, to the very beginnings when everything was well, back when you had enough will and happiness to care for something, to plant a flower. and now that flower has bloomed, but you do not dare to pick it because it is the last string tying you back to that time you longed for, so you leave it there, afraid that once you’d touch it then you’d soil it with everything that makes up your current self. but by doing so, the flower withers away, and i feel as if this last line plants a seed of hope, of light in a very melancholic song. that by longing for the past and forgetting the present all you do is harm the flower, harm yourself. that you shouldn’t forget your present self while reminiscing the one that faded away

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you. So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

THIS PARTTTTT!!!! this is The Part that gave me goosebumps and brought tears to my eyes,,, hyunjin’s vocals throughout the song were so mellow, so soft, so tender to hear, yet so melancholic at the same time. but this part. THIS PART. this feels like floating atop the pool on a warm summer afternoon and you are hit by this wave of nostalgia for a moment that has yet to pass, because you know that you will miss this instant right here, and that you might comeback to this exact same pool next summer, and the one after it, but things would have inadvertently changed AND IT’S SOOOO 💔💔💔 especially the part where the music quiets down and all you can hear is his voice and then THE VIOLIN PICKS UP and it feels as if he’s tugging with my heartstrings and he’s harmonizing with himself and it’s all so HEART WRENCHING in the most beautiful way, like this is the embodiment of yearning.

i got carried away but as for the lyrics this part also makes me wanna cry and weep because it’s so full of hope?? of moving forth?? instead of longing for who you were and letting it hinder you, you long for who you were and behold it as a compass to love your present self, because past or future you are you, and if you loved who you were at one point of time, if you were at peace with who you once were then you can and you will love who you are now too. and i’m so 💔💔💔 also him harmonizing with himself ties it all together like the only person you got is yourself and it reminds me of THE PAINTING 😭😭😭😭😭😭

yes this isn’t over yet. the painting. The Painting. THE PAINTING. hyunjin hugging himself, burying his face in the crook of his neck i am too sensitive for this. i am no art expert but i am always at awe of the way hyunjin plays with colors and lighting and shadows, even if you aren’t well versed in paintings you can still feel the emotions hyunjin wants to portray and it’s all so.. special to me. all his works deserve to be hung in an art exposition

also i feel like this cover painting is the continuation of the one he shared some time ago, they look very alike and the color scheme resembles one another

i just love how hyunjin writes and produces and draws the covers of his songs like 🥹 i’d never tire of saying that he is the embodiment of art

[tgmsunmontue]

Saga of Solitude 2/21

Nepo!Baby Bradley and his life at USNA and afterwards. DADT fully in force. IceMav AU. (Begun prior to 'It's not who you know' - the non-angsty version).

PROLOGUE (He remembers) HANGSTER FIRST MEETING (Lonely Nights) Updating irregularly. This is a SLOW BURN

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

2001

                He walks across the stage at his graduation and he feels buoyed up as he hears the cheers, can hear Mav absolutely losing it, egged on by the high pitched squeals of Tamsin and Petra and when he’s engulfed in the warm embrace of his family he does his best to ignore the fact that he might not get this when he graduates from the USNA. And he will graduate, that’s not in question in his mind. But whether he will allow both Mav and Ice to attend, whether they will even be in the country. It’s all unknown with it being so far away.

                That said they’ve decided that Sarah and the girls will drop him off at USNA, they’re still his family and no-one will look sideways at them being there. He knows Mav could technically drop him off, that no one going into Plebe summer would know who he was, at least not yet. But he doesn’t want there to be talk about him having connections, even if it’s true multiple times over. If he’s going to make friends he wants them to be people who genuinely like him, rather than the potential benefits of being his friend. Not that he thinks there are any. Not yet.

                Ice and Mav have been riding him hard the last few months, training with him and running, swimming, weights and he hadn’t wanted to let guys over twenty years his senior put him to shame. But they had the first couple of weeks, their endurance just out-stripping him. Not anymore though, he’s improved remarkably, the routine becoming almost comfortable and Ice had begun slapping him on the back and telling him that he maybe might have a chance of enjoying Plebe Summer rather than wishing for a swift and painless death on a daily basis.

                The most exciting thing he gets is an almost new Audi, which Ice then promptly tells him he can’t take to USNA anyway. But its highly safety rated and he gives Mav a raised eyebrow at that, because Mav still rides his bike around with no helmet and probably always will. But he’s going to insist Bradley drive a car that is rated for maximum safety for front and passenger side crashes. Apparently, he trusts Bradley, but not everyone else on the road. Bradley doesn’t point out that Mav himself is one of the other people on the road.

                They say goodbye at the airport, none of them in uniform yet with the fact that they’re going a couple of days early. Tamsin and Petra are just as excited about the flight as Bradley, although they’re running circles around them and he occasionally reaches out to throw one or the other up into the air, their delighted giggles making him grin. He wants to start this journey already, wants to make Mav and Ice proud. But he’s going to miss seeing Tamsin and Petra grow up and if he’s going to have regrets about anything, it’s that.

                “We would like a short phone call every Saturday. Doesn’t need to be longer than a couple of minutes, but we do want to talk to you. Obviously only works when I’m in the country.”

                “Of course. And I’ll write letters as well. When I have time,” Bradley offers, because Ice has reiterated over and over how exhausting the first year is. “Can I call you as well?” Bradley asks, turning to Sarah, and his anxiousness must show on his face.

                “Oh honey, of course you can. We’d all love to talk to you. You won’t get a word in edgeways if it’s one of these two hellions you wanted to talk to though…”

                “That’s okay, I might not be much of a conversationalist anyway…”

                The call for their flight comes and he hugs Mav and Ice tightly, throat tight with emotion as he realizes it’s going to be months before he sees them again.

                “I’m proud of you. Keep your nose clean okay?” Ice says.

                “Of course. Always.”

                “Don’t forget to have fun,” Mav says.

                “Not too much fun,” Ice instantly adds and Mav is rolling his eyes, throws him a wink and god he’s going to miss them so much.

                The flight is exhausting, keeping Petra and Tamsin entertained a fulltime task and he’s glad the flight isn’t any longer. They got a couple of rooms booked at a Motel and he falls into his bed, determined to enjoy a solid night’s sleep. Over the next couple of days they do some touristy things, although the number of playgrounds and parks they visit is probably higher, what with Tamsin and Petra getting bored quickly with anything that requires even a small modicum of reading. It’s fine though, he’ll have liberty leave and can come to the museums and stuff if he wants to.

                When they drop him off for his first day, his bags all packed and dressed in his uniform Tamsin has made the connection that he’s not coming home with them and is inconsolable, tears streaming down her face and he finds it heartbreaking that she’s so upset to say goodbye to him. He promises to draw her some pictures and post them, that they’ll talk on the phone and he has to trust Sarah when she says she’ll be fine. He waves good bye and goes to start the rest of his life.

…             …             …

                As the days fly past he’s so glad he was forced into the training regime that Ice and Mav planned out, because while he’s still pushed past his personal limits his recovery time is much shorter, he knows how much food he needs to eat and how to deal with the yelling and sleep depravation exercises. God, Ice really didn’t exaggerate when he said it was going to be hard. He knows the orders inside out, when asked about his family he doesn’t hesitate to say his father was a naval aviator, a RIO who died in a training exercise in 1986. It does generally stop follow-up questions, but he suspects that some of the teachers know who he is, know that Maverick is listed as his emergency contact. He doesn’t ever bring it up.

                He writes more letters than he thought he would, the phones difficult to use except for the brief few minutes he makes a concerted effort every Saturday. However the time he doesn’t have to use memorizing orders coming in handy and he draws pictures for Tamsin and Petra and writes letters, addressing them to where Mav is deployed. Bradley doesn’t make close friends, he does make friends though, lots and lots of friends. Remembers their birthdays, makes little notes of things they tell him, asks follow up questions about their families and helps them out where and when he can.

                He doesn’t share much information about himself though, keeps it close to his chest. It’s maybe a little paranoid but it’s not just him on the line, but Mav and Ice. When pressed he mentions his step-father Pete, how he married his mom after his dad died. When he mentions his mom dying is usually when people either start to look like they seriously regret asking, or they look like they pity him and he doesn’t know which he dislikes the most. He is asked about the photo he keeps by his bed, of Tamsin and Petra and he simply explains that they’re his step-siblings. It all makes sense in his head, knows he can keep all of that straight in his head as none of it is a lie. He knows people are probably making assumption about Pete marrying Sarah, but he’s never said anything about that.

                The seven weeks of Plebe Summer come to an end and then he’s preparing for his plebe year, picking the academic classes which he will undertake alongside the physical activities required at the Academy. He’s flying home for a short break of one week, Maverick is on deployment, so he expects Ice or Sarah at the airport to pick him up. The fact that they’re all there makes his hurt from smiling so much and he goes home with Ice, squishes himself into the backseat because Tamsin won’t let go of his hand.

                He goes back to USNA feeling revitalized after spending time with them, and of course there’s one upper classman who seems to have it out for him, and Bradley is careful to remain respectful, but he also won’t let himself be a doormat. He knows his own worth, even if this one guy is constantly trying to find fault with him and snipe him. He does his best to ignore it, knows that a little of this is part and parcel of the entire experience, but it doesn’t mean he likes it.

                Then September 11th happens and his immediate thought goes to Mav, somewhere on deployment somewhere near the Middle East, and he feels awful, immediately thinking of his own family before the hundreds or thousands of innocent people who are now dead. They’re given very little information, however he does receive an envelope with the mail two days later, no stamp or postmark and it’s simply They’re both alive and well. Uncle Sli. He breathes out and the tension in his shoulders lessens immediately. Slider isn’t someone he sees a lot of, but he’d recognize him and is so grateful for the message.

                He’s not stupid, knows that they’re all now in the military, that there are plenty of risks day-to-day associated with that. However looking at the potential start of World War Three is different when he knows Mav is one of the best fighter pilots that the Navy currently has. He’s just going to have to learn to compartmentalize now and ignore his feelings, the worry about where he is and when he will next see him. Plebe Year continues, and there is a shift in the intensity of some of the people, knowing that active combat suddenly feels much closer to home.

                He chooses to stay on campus through the holiday break, along with a handful of others. He’s thankful all his family are alive and well, but going home to houses devoid of both Maverick and Ice makes him want to stay where he is, because he’s used to not seeing them around here. Word has gotten around that both his parents are dead, so no one asks him awkward questions about why he’s not going home. He’s the only Plebe who has stayed.

                His New Year’s Eve is vastly different than the previous year, when he’d been celebrating with his high school friends, or even the year before sitting on the sofa with Ice as they watched the ball drop. This year he lies in his dorm bed and listens to the fireworks outside, rolls over and simply tries to sleep. He’d had liberty leave, but he’s underage, clearly military and the risks far outweigh any rewards from doing something, anything, for New Year’s Eve. So staying in and sleeping it is. This is only one year of the many ahead of him.

…             …             …

                Spring semester starts up and it’s routine. The academic classes along with the exercises and naval classes. He continues writing letters, making Saturday afternoon phone calls and hangs out with the other Plebes, some of them he’d even class as friends, and damned Ice, he was right about him making friends despite trying to be stand offish and taciturn about his background. They don’t seem to care that he doesn’t talk about his family much, which he guesses is nice, and when a couple of them invite him to their place for summer he mention going home to his step-father and he gets a couple of raised eyebrows.

                “I love my step-father. And my step-siblings. I’ll spend the few weeks of summer with them.”

                “But you didn’t go at Christmas.”

                “Pete was out of the country for work and Sarah is Jewish, so I just, stayed here,” Bradley offers and once again he ignores the slightly pitying looks from the others in the wider circle who are listening in, but the two different Plebes that had invited him to their homes for summer nod with more understanding and he wonders if he’s now going to get invites for every time they have liberty leave or parent-weekends, or fuck, even their next Christmas break.

                So his first year comes to an end and he finishes in the top two-percent of the class. He watches the Firsts graduate and knows that’s going to be him in another three years. Then Uncle Slider is there, along with Wolfman and Hollywood and he knows it’s a compromise of sorts, Ice and Maverick staying away. How he’s going to explain these three talking to him he had no idea, but finds he doesn’t need to.

                “They flew with your old man huh?”

                “What?”

                “Those guys that were talking to you, they all looked proud of you, but also a little sad.”

                “Yeah. Yeah they flew with my dad. They were in the same Top Gun class as him. And I guess they wish my dad was here to see me…” Bradley says, realizing the truth of it, because not only is his dad not able to be here, but neither Maverick or Ice are here either. None of the men he considers father figures, and he knows that Slider at least knows about Ice and Mav’s relationship.

                They had seemed a little melancholic when they’d been talking to him, unlike Ice and Mav who have probably worked through the fact that his parents will miss all his milestones the people who see him less often probably focus on it a lot more. He’s grateful suddenly that Mav doesn’t seem to dwell on it, is gleefully proud of him from a distance and Bradley is left in no doubt of that fact. The same for Ice. God he’s looking forward to seeing them both in person though, doesn’t want to go an entire year again without seeing them, but also knows it’s been a good test, for future deployments when he has to be even further away from them all.

…             …             …

                “God I want to be there so badly…”

                “We’ll be there for his final year graduation, even if it’s purely formal. He’s not alone…”

                “I know, I know, it just… I’ve missed him so much. Coming home and him not being here. God Ice, it’s like I’m missing a piece of myself.”

                “He was going to grow up and move out eventually…”

                “I know. God. I know. I just feel like it’s gone by so fast. I still remember him being this little toddler who could barely walk…”

                “If you couldn’t remember it I’d be worried about you.”

                “Shut up, you know what I mean. It’s the fact that this toddler is now on the other side of the country attending boat school and I can’t even visit him��”

                “We’ll make it work better next year, figure out some visits, because I don’t think Sarah and the girls have coped overly well either. I do think it was probably for the best though, think he will feel incredibly settled going forward. He’s done very well, he’s got people watching him already, and not all of them know about his connections or background.”

                “He’s impressive all on his own, he doesn’t fucking need any connections!”

                “Mav, you’re preaching to the converted. He’s gotten through his first year and I’m hoping he’ll let us visit a little incognito for next year’s parent weekend. I could visit formally, although I’d prefer not to.”

                “Well, at least we get him home for a few weeks this summer.”

                Tom hums, because he’s pulled a few strings to ensure that they all have leave overlapping for the weeks Bradley is back home, and he may have used his eldest daughter’s last summer before she starts school as an excuse and he has no shame in admitting it.

…             …             …

                It’s absolute chaos, Petra’s fourth birthday and his welcome home party all squished into a terrifying combination of a bouncy castle and a group of kids from Petra’s daycare, along with a mom of one of the other kids doing face-painting, which has resulted in him with a rainbow on one cheek and a butterfly on the other. The birthday party is meant to finish around three, early enough that the kids who need naps can still have them.

                Petra is not one of them, looking wide awake, apparently impossible to keep shoes on or her long dark hair braided, or even tied back. She’s swinging on the backyard playset, yelling for higher and faster with excited giggles and… She could be Mav’s kid. As much as Tamsin is the spitting image of Ice, Petra looks like Maverick. He looks to Sarah, her hair is brown, eyes also brown, so it’s not impossible that Petra just looks like her more than Ice but…

                “Papa! Higher!”

                Holy shit.

                “She calls Mav papa?” Bradley mutters under his breath, because that’s a new development no-one bothered to mention to him. Mav is already there, pushing her and laughing with her and god, why didn’t they say anything? Maybe he has it wrong? Does he need to know? He wants to know, but he doesn’t need to know.

                “Did you just realize?”

                Ice has stepped beside him, is nursing a beer and is also watching Petra and Maverick.

                “Hmm? Realize what?” Bradley asks, wondering if playing dumb is going to even work right now. Looks from his kid-sisters-slash-cousins back to Ice, and now that he’s looking properly it’s even more obvious that Tamsin is very clearly his daughter through and through just as much as Petra isn’t.

                “Did you just realize that Petra is the spitting image of Maverick.”

                “I… I’m not imagining it?”

                “Nope. They’re even named after each of us. Your Aunt Sarah is a very generous woman, and obviously it’s my name on the birth certificates. But we all know the truth. And now you do too.”

                “Holy shit… Tamsin and Petra. That’s really obvious when you know.”

                “Hiding in plain sight…” Ice says quietly, taking another sip of his beer.

                “Yeah…” Bradley says on an exhale and wonders how old Tamsin and Petra will be when they figure it out.

CHAPTER THREE - 2002

[blaxcunicorn]

Diaboli 's angelus

Chapter 10

Lenght: 4.1k

Content: fem!reader, NSFW warning, angst,

Authors note: Heeey, here is chapter 10. Sorry that it took long, this term was crazy. I'll try and finish the story this summer!

Tag: @okaystopwhore

Eren pours another round of strong liquor into Armin's glass. "You must really be going through a hard time" Armin smiles gently. Eren is a fighter, but this was the first time Armin has seen his best friend turn to alcohol due to difficulty. "Armin, I disgust her. I don't know what to do." The blonde advisor almost spit out the liquor. "No, I'm pretty sure she…" Armin stops himself. It was clear as day that you loved him, but could your feelings have changed after the news?

"Whenever we have sex, she spaces out and doesn't wish to look at me. She made several rules during our session: I can't kiss her or do other "fun" stuff with her. I have to leave her chamber as soon we are done. We don't have sex for enjoyment anymore but rather to produce an heir." Armin's eyes widen at Eren's defeated look. "Oh, not to mention! I asked Historia the other day why she and the other helpers were always standing outside waiting for me to exit her chamber. She told me it was because she always requested a bath after our session. Can you believe that!" Eren laughs miserably, leaning further into his seat. That statement made Armin choke his drink. "H-have you told Her Majesty the news?" Armin whispers, trying to regain his voice. Eren rubs his eyes, reminiscing how that went. 

"Once a day doesn't hold, Eren; you should see me after dinner as well." You said, looking up at the ceiling. Eren hums while putting his pants on. It hurt to know that you've reduced him into a baby-maker rather than a husband. However, being able to see and touch you for more made him a bit happy. "Mikasa just gave birth." A wave of nausea hit you, settling into a deep knot in your stomach. "It's a girl…" Eren finishes, reading your mind. Mikasa getting a girl means that your position is not entirely in jeopardy. However, you are now in desperate need of a son. "I know this is selfish, but could you please bless her?" You rise up from your back, leaning it on the pillows. "You want me to bless your bastard?" It was almost comical; he could not be serious. After everything he and that stupid affair put you through. "Mikasa serves you. Carla needs  your blessing in order to be protected by the Crown." Her name stung a bit. He named her after his mother. "Does she have to serve me after all of this?" 

"Mikasa needs to be by your side at all times. She'll be back as your main helper after her recovery is completed." You didn't challenge him, as he gave you the same strict eyes he had during that time when you asked him to leave the castle. "I will not bless her." Eren took a deep breath, knowing the outcome of his proposal. He left the chamber, meeting Historia and the women again. However, this time, she was holding a letter close to her heart. He ignored it and walked to the training ground. 

"Your Majesty", Historia and the ladies curtsies. The rest of the women left the room to prepare your bath, and Historia handed you over the letter. You see a familiar royal emblem. It looked like the one on the gifts advisor Kenzo gave you. It was a circle with a capital A at its centre. You open it curiously, and your eyes widen at the message. It was a letter from Mikasa to meet up with you on at the three on top of the hill. You dismissed your ladies except Daisy after the bath. You handed over the letter, and her eyes widened. "What is it to talk about? Is she going to flaunt that she is the one with Eren's child? Having that one thing I desperately need?" You throw yourself onto the bed. "Maybe you should hear her out? Getting her perspective of everything?" You hum. As much as you hate it, she was right. 

You walk up the hill and see her holding something wrapped in a white blanket…It must be the baby. You sat down next to Mikasa and got a glimpse of little Carla and her small cooing, and you couldn't help but smile. The view is beautiful from up there; you have the perfect view of the garden; what caught your eye were the beautiful red and white rosebuds growing next to the statue of the founder Ymir. "I don't care what's going to happen to me…but she is my dearest, my most beloved. I don't want her to suffer because of her mother's mistakes." You felt your chest clench in guilt; your wrath blurred and vanished in thin air. What no, who Mikasa is holding is actually a human being, a person who might soon develop dreams and ambitions, not just some tool for power. "Just give me the chance to tell you the truth, and from there, you can make your decision." You nod, inviting Mikasa to share her and Eren's story.

Mikasa was born to an Ackerman, and her mother was from Hizuru. Her father was on a journey with the late King Grisha on a trip to Hizuru when he laid his eyes on a beautiful woman selling flowers. Her father bought flowers from here every day until he got the courage to ask her out for a couple of drinks. After a couple of drinks and love letter exchanges, they got married, and Mikasa was born. The Ackerman family decided to reside on the outskirts of the palace in a secluded wooded area. Her mother quickly adapted to the Indian way of living, but she never forgot her Hizurian culture. She never wanted Mikasa to forget her heritage and marked a reminder on her wrist. 

When she was eight, both her parents were summoned to the palace as diplomats from Hizuru paid King Grisha a visit. The Royal Court believed that having Mikasa's mother present could help contribute to better the relations between the nations. That was the day Mikasa laid her eyes on him. He was holding hands with his mother. Mikasa quickly curtsied as she was taught by her mother upon their arrival. "Hi," he nonchalantly said. "H-hi", Mikasa quickly responded. “Eren, this is Mikasa. You should play nicely with her. Maybe you can show her around the palace?" The green-eyed boy nods and takes Mikasa's hand. She felt her cheek burn as her hand touched his soft hands. 

Eren took her to a tree on a hill in the middle of the castle. There were blankets there ready for them, and Eren gently helped Mikasa sit down. "Eren?" Mikasa says curiously. "Huh," he responds, getting up from his back and into a sitting position facing her. "Do you know where babies come from?" She asks. "From the stockes, I believe…" They both sit in silence, deepening how dumb it sounded. "Well…Maybe we can ask Armin. He is the smartest person I know!" His smile brightened, thinking about his best friend. "What made you think of kids, Mikasa?" Mikasa blushes nervously. She had promised her mother not to show it to anyone. Looking into Eren's kind green eyes, she gave in to the trusting feeling they gave her. She rolled up the sleeve of her dress and unwrapped the bandage, showing him the fresh mark her mother gave her and explaining the meaning behind it. His eyes widened in curiosity, but he chose not to ask any questions as it seemed like a private matter. Mikasa felt at ease around Eren, well almost at ease, as she noticed that there was a short young man with dark features supervising them. "That's Levi Ackerman," Eren says quickly, noticing the worry in Mikasa's eyes. "He is my royal knight. The man standing next to him is Kenny, he is my father's knight. It is your clan's task to protect the Eldian royal family…"

"Eren! Eren!" Mikasa noticed his emerald eyes glow at the sight of a blonde boy holding a big book running up towards them. Armin needed a moment to catch his breath. “Hey Armin, this is Mikasa”. Armin had the kindest, bluest eyes; they were soft like the sky. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mikasa; I'm Armin", he smiles. Mikasa responds with a soft smile, introducing herself. Armin seats himself in front of the two of them, placing his big book in front of them. "Eren, look, I found a book about the ocean! Once the war with Marley ends, we need to see it! We can take a boat and travel the world as we promised those years ago!" Mikasa listened authentically and just admired how happy that dream made the boys. "Mikasa, you should join us!" Armin said. They both look at her with stars in their eyes.  She blushes and nods, and the two turn to each other with wide smiles.  From that day on, the three of them were inseparable. Mikasa spent an awful lot of time in the palace playing with the two of them whenever she was in the castle. 

Mikasa remembers that day as if it had happened the previous day. Remembering it tends to give her severe headaches. Her father had a day off and decided to spend it with his family. Mikasa was excited not because her father was home for once but rather because Eren was coming for a visit. She was preparing her dolls, placing them on each of her small wooden chairs. Leaving two seats for herself and Eren. Her tea set was neatly placed on her small table. Mikasa heard knocking from downstairs, so she rushed down to greet Eren, only to be greeted by the horrific view of her parents' bloody bodies lying on the ground. "M-mom…D-dad" Before she could react, she was knocked out cold.

"Die!" Mikasa wakes up and is faced with a new horror. Eren viciously stabbed one of her kidnappers. He is stabbing him nonstop while shouting how animals like him should die. When Eren finishes, he walks over to Mikasa, covered in blood and starts untying her. "Did they hurt you, Mikasa?" He asked his dear friend as he gently touched the bruise near her mouth. "I-I'm fine. Where is the third man? There was a third man." Eren looks confused; before they can clock what happened, Eren is kicked in the stomach. The young prince reaches for his dagger, but it's kicked away. The man slams Eren towards the wall, suffocating him. The poor boy looks over at his friend "Mikasa, If we lose, we die…If we win, we'll live…If we don't fight, we can't win…fight." Mikasa didn't know what possessed her body, but she felt electrified by his statement. She picked up the dagger and charged it into the man's heart from the back, saving Eren. 

King Grisha showed up with the Military Police after a bit. "Eren, what were you thinking? Why didn't you wait until the Military Police showed up." He shakes his son's shoulder in horror. "I-I wanted to save her as quickly as possible." He whispered, almost tearing up. The King turns to the raven-haired girl who was wearing his jacket. "Mikasa, do you remember me? Your father used to work for me," Mikasa nods. "I'm cold…and I don't know where to go," Mikasa whispered. Her eyes widened as she felt the warmth of the scarf wrapped around her. Each layer of the woollen scarf shielded against the cold and cruel world and gently whispered promises of solace and protection. "Warm?" Eren asked, blushing. Mikasa touches the soft fabric of the scarf and nods. "Come, let's go back…to our home." Eren gently grabs her hand; it feels as soft as the first time she touched it. Mikasa's eyes were glassy, and her vision was blurry. She didn't know if it was from sorrow for what she had lost or joy from what she had gained. 

Mikasa was raised under King Grisha and Queen Carla's protection. She lived with the other Ackermans but was often with the royal couple who viewed her as their own daughter, which takes her to the day when her heart breaks again. Mikasa waved the Jeagers goodbye as they floated away before continuing her maid training with an elderly Ackerman lady. She has been taking good care of herself when the royal couple has been busy as Mikasa's great aunt. Mikasa gracefully holds a bunch of plates stacked up to work on her poster. 

Armin comes running in with eyes filled with horror. "A-Armin?" She asked, worried. The blonde is tearing up, sending shivers down her spine. "W-where is Eren? Is he fine?" She almost whispered. "T-the King is fine" He hiccups. "The King? You can't mean?" The elderly lady rushed out with Mikasa and Armin following her. Mikasa is horrified, watching everyone bowing down to Eren. "The King is dead. Long live the king", was the haunting chant echoing in the room. Armin lightly pulls Mikasa, gesturing that she needs to bow. Showing approval of the new monarch. Eren walked over to Zacharias with determined eyes.  He and the other top officials followed Eren to Grish...no his office. 

Mikasa decided to visit Eren in the evening, as he had never left his office the whole day before. She found him sitting on his bed with his face in his hands. It broke her heart to see the lively boy she fell for this…broken. "Eren", she whispered as she sat down next to him. She looked around at his half-empty chamber. "They've already started moving. I'll be sleeping in their chamber starting tomorrow." He managed to squeeze out.  There was a moment of silence. There was not much Mikasa could say that could make him feel better. She wished nothing more than to make his pain away. Eren broke the silence. "I-I'm so weak", he laughed whilst tears were streaming down his face. "I couldn't protect either of them. All I could do was hide underneath Kenny."  Mikasa's eyes widened; he was having a mental breakdown. She quickly grabbed his white knuckles. "Listen…I need to tell you something. You've always…been by my side. Thank you." Eren is shocked; Mikasa has never expressed vulnerability; he stares in shock as her eyes become glazed over. "You showed me…how to live with purpose, thank you." 

"And you…" Mikasa softly touches her scarf. "You wrapped this scarf around me, thank you." The two of them sat there in silence for a swift moment. Mikasa could hear her heartbeat fill the silence. Eren wiped the tears with the arms of his shirt. "I'll wrap that around you…as many times as you want. Now and forever���As much as you want", he said softly. Mikasa didn't know where the courage came from; maybe it was knowing that Eren could've died today, but she planted a kiss on his lips. Mikasa couldn't remember who took the initiative, but she was all of a sudden under him. 

Eren's head was now on her lap. "How are you feeling?" Eren whispered as she was stroking his chestnut hair. "I'm feeling good", Mikasa blushed. Who is she kidding? She feels over the moon. The love of her life feels the same about her. Mikasa didn't care about it. Don't get it wrong. Eren felt good physically, but this couldn't fill the emptiness inside him. That was until you came into the picture. Mikasa noticed that their relationship became more platonic. She wasn't invited to his chamber to "have fun", as Eren called it. They would still see each other but with Armin. Mikasa was confused at first, but when she was made aware of your existence, everything changed. 

Mikasa was, after that, determined to maintain a platonic friendship with Eren. She might have to endure the pain of losing the love of her life, but losing him completely would shatter her even more. However, due to your arrival, Levi has been training her extra hard. "Oi brat, what happened to your stamina?" Mikasa was still catching her breath. "I don't know. I woke up with something that felt like a flu the other day," she responded between her breaths. Levi found it weird as it is rare for Ackermans to feel that ill. "You should speak to Hanji. They might know what's going on." Mikasa excuses herself and leaves on the search for Hanji.

“Congratulations Mikasa! You're pregnant! We need to celebrate…What should we name them? Sawney if it is a boy and Bean if it a girl or maybe you're having…" Hanji stops themselves as they see a single tear streaming down her face. Hanji could tell that it wasn't a happy one. Mikasa excuses herself and rushes out of Hanji's office, leaving them shocked. Mikasa started feeling nauseous as she had to move past servants carrying the decorations for the wedding ceremony, which was happening in a week. The minute she entered her room, she finally let out her cries. Was she pregnant? With Eren's child? He is about to be married to the princess of Capri! Mikasa grabs her hair in frustration whilst sliding down the door. Mikasa wakes up from the sound of knocking. "Mikasa, it's Sasha! Is everything okay?" The raven-haired girl stayed silent in hopes that she might go away. "Mikasa, I brought food!" That's when it hit. She hasn't been eating for hours. She had no appetite, but she didn't want to starve the baby to death. She opened the door, letting Sasha in. "Mikasa, you look like shit." The Ackerman girl turned to the mirror and sighed at the state of her. Her eyes were puffy, and her hair was all over the place. Mikasa sits down on her bed, and Sasha sits down right next to her, giving her the food. Mikasa stuffs in the food. The chicken has never tasted this good before. "Mikasa, are you alright?" Sasha looked worried at her friend as she had been stuffing in her food. Sasha has never seen Mikasa this hungry before. She normally doesn't eat that much. "Sasha… I'm pregmmmm" she tries to mumble with the food in her mouth. "What?" Mikasa quickly swallows the food. "I'm pregnant." Sasha's eyes glowed in excitement. “My Gods Mikasa I’m so hap…”

"His Majesty is the father", Mikasa cuts her. Sasha felt the room spinning, but she held the pillow and tried to stay calm as her friend needed her. "Well…this complicates things." Mikasa gives Sasha the “duh” face, “no, I mean…” Sasha brought out a flower bouquet, which she hid under her top. "These are from Jean." She gently hands Mikasa the beautiful purple daffodile bouquet. They were beautiful; she and Jean weren't the closest, but they had amazing conversations. He often checked upon her and, at times, assisted her with the tasks she had. Mikasa teared up. This pregnancy would scare him away. "Mikasa, does His Majesty know?"

"I-I just found out. I haven't told him yet." Sasha places Mikasa's head gently on her lap and strokes her hair. Mikasa closes her eyes as it reminds her of how her mother used to comfort her. "I'll tell him after the wedding as he seems occupied by it. He has barely spoken to me since the announcement." Mikasa mumbles, falling asleep. 

It had been months after the wedding, and Mikasa was almost due. Her stomach was small, which made her believe she was still in the earlier stages of her pregnancy. Hanji had to confirm that she was almost due, although her belly might not show as much. She felt a knot grow in her throat as she knocked on his office door. The sound of a chair moving made her jump a bit, but she remained calm as Eren opened the door. "Oh hey Mikasa, come in!" Eren held the door open for her, and she slowly entered the office. "I've missed you. How've you been? How has my wife been treating you?" There is it again, the familiar sting that word causes her. "I'm alright. Your wife has been nothing but kind to me." Eren grins. "I know, right? Isn't she wonderful?" Mikasa could see the effect you had on him. He hasn't been this happy since his parents passed away. "But Eren, there is something I need to tell you…" Mikasa nervously plays with her dress. "Mikasa, are you o…"

"I'm pregnant!" She blurred out. Eren had to sit down as his legs gave up on him. "It's mine, right?" He whispered, holding his head. All Mikasa could do was nod. She knew talking would make her cry. "I'm so sorry Mikasa… I'm so sorry… I'm…" was all he could mutter. Mikasa gently grabbed his hand, trying to bring him any form of comfort.  "I just got married, Mikasa. We've had a bumpy road, but everything's been good now. This might ruin things; on top of that, how can I convince her to bless the child? What will the council do? And Zeke…" Mikasa gently placed his hand on her stomach to feel the baby's movement to calm him down. "I'll try and see what I can do to solve this for you."

"Maybe I can leave, come back and pretend it isn't yours." Mikasa tries to suggest. "Absolutely not; as messy as this situation is, I wish to be in the baby's life and support you all the way. I can't live in the same castle as my child, pretending not to be its father. Just give me a few days to talk to the council and the Queen. I'll sort something out; in the meantime, keep it low and don't hesitate to call for me if anything." Mikasa nods and excuses herself out of his chamber. She felt a bit of relief with Eren by her side; what she didn't notice was Pieck's fading footsteps. 

"Oh, Mikasa, how have you kept going all these years?" You said low, trying to keep your tears from streaming. "The world is cruel, but yet so beautiful. It has taken a lot from me but also given me a lot of things," she says, kissing Carla on the forehead. Mikasa hands you Carla, and you see her for the first time. She was beautiful, and ease ran through you when she gigged. Carla has her mother's beauty, her pale skin and her black hair. However, she had huge golden eyes, resembling neither Eren nor Mikasa. "Eren named her Carla because she got her eyes." You couldn't help but smile when she grabbed your pinky finger. She was perfect.

Mikasa's eyes widened when she felt the royal emblem on her lap. "Y-you are giving her your blessing?" Mikasa almost teared up. "She is innocent in all this. It wouldn't be fair to punish her for it." You smiled, handing her back to her mother. It warmed Mikasa's heart to see how comfortable Carla was in your arms and how warm your eyes became at the sight of her. "So, you and Jean, huh?" You grin, gently hitting her upper tricep. Mikasa blushes and hides her face behind her precious scarf. "Jean wanted to look past it. It didn't matter. He wants to help raise her and start a life together." The scarf was hiding a huge smile. Only Jean had that effect on her. Mikasa locks eyes with Jean. He waves before continuing his training with Eren and the other knights. 

Mikasa noticed how you looked at Eren, and there was a bit of sadness in them. She wondered if you and Eren had that bond; did he bring out your goofier side or give you stupid smiles as Jean did? Neither way, the two of you seemed happy. It may be out of her position to offer advice, but she can try to see if there is any she can give to ease up the tension between the two of you. You jumped up before Mikasa could say anything.

 "Johan!" You shouted. Mikasa's eyes widened at the sight of her Queen running down the hill like a little child and jumping into another man's arms, tackling him to the ground. At that moment, you weren't Y/n Jeager, Queen of Eldia. You were just Y/n L/n, princess of Capri, Johan's friend. "My goodness, Johan. What are you doing here?" You cried in his neck.  "Oh, sorry!" You jumped off him the second you got a glimpse at his face turning red. "You almost killed me there, Y/n", He breathed out. You quickly gave him another hug, leaning your head to his heart. You might've forgotten that you were the Queen of Eldia, but your husband surely didn't, as it took every ounce of him not to rip the two of you apart.

[anarchiii]

I’ll wait for you. —ACOTAR AU

One shot | warnings: angst | Azriel x y/n

Summary: it didn’t matter if it was summer or winter Solstice, Azriel spent it with you—even if you weren’t with him.

Note: this is an AU it’s not in the books.

Masterlist

Azriel’s POV

The plopping of raindrops on leaves was his only companion as he walked through the woods, following the path that had been made over the years, pebbles lined the track, flowers plopping out from under them, the same flowers as the ones he was carrying, crocuses—your favourite. They were his favourite too. They reminded him of you, their delicate petals and their sweet scent, and the fact that when it was spring, butterflies swarmed you, Azriel brushed through a couple low hanging branches. The path ended near a bench. The initials carved onto the bench his and yours, the bench stayed in good condition thanks to Azriel’s frequent visits, to the side of the bench was where his lover laid, the gravestone was neat—with its grass trimmed short, previous crocuses starting to wilt in front of her.

He replaced the flowers before resting his head on the stone, watching the sky, he could almost here y/n’s gasp of amazement as the sky lit up, the stars shining as bright as the moon. “Look. Love, it’s starting,” he whispered, kissing the grave without straying his eyes from the sky.

Azriel watched with his mate as the sky took on a blue-ish-purple hue, cracks of gold flowing between the stars that traveled across the night, their lights slightly green. This may not be the ideal way to spend Starfall to anyone else but to him. It was perfect.

He could almost hear her laugh as the glowing powder fell from the sky onto his face, her giggles endless as more and more fell, covering the grass and the surrounding landscape, everything taking on a bright green hue—him included.

-

Azriel sat there for four hours, watching the night sky until it finished its grand show, just as it ended, rain started falling but he didn’t budge, only when the wind picked up and it got too cold for his one jacket that he stood up.

He took a moment to look at her grave—carved out of the rock that she had loved leaning against or laying atop it, basking in the sun,—the sun didn’t shine here anymore, it surprised him that the flowers even grew anymore, when you had stopped shining, it seemed the sun did as well, his sunshine. His light in the dark. But you were gone now, barely more than a decomposing pile of bones in the ground, he should have buried you where you belonged—in Day, where the sun would eternally shine down upon you, he kissed the grave once more and sat down again—finding it pointless to go back to Velaris where his family would give him pitiful looks and stray from showing their affection for eachother.

His tears were as silent as you were, wishing for you to come back, same form or not, he’d wait for you to come back, even if he has to wait a thousand years. He wait for you.

“Happy Starfall, my lovely ray of sunshine.” He whispered to the cold stone you laid underneath, “a thousand years or not—I will see you again, even if that means doing it myself. I’ll find you in whatever life we find ourselves in.” He vowed.

The End.

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[havenscribes]

Only Warriors - Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Wakandan!Regent!Reader - Chapter Five

Word Count: 2040 ish words

Warnings: nothing crazy, cuss words

I stand outside of the door to my suite, and the sun warms my back as I dread turning the knob to my untimely demise. A black cat, slinks close and winds between my legs. She purrs affectionately as I reach down to scratch behind her ears, and flops onto her back for a belly rub. Big green eyes glare up at me when I stop, and she meows impatiently as if to say I know you’re stalling, so you might as well pet me.

“I’d stay out here forever if I could, love, but I have to face the music.” I whisper to her, afraid he’ll hear me through the door and shoot me through a third of a meter of reinforced vibranium. The cat just blinks before jumping up on her paws and trotting away. 

“I’ll see you later.” I call after her, but she doesn’t look back, as cats do. I sigh, wishing I had the same amount of unbotheredness. Trying not to waste anymore time, I take another deep breath in and remind myself that this is for the best. Shuri would never put my safety in the hands of anyone she wasn’t absolutely sure would protect me with their life. I wave my Kimoyo beads in front of the scanner until it turns purple and beeps twice, and the door swings open on its own. Home sweet home.

Immediately, I scan the room for any traces of him. The parlor looks normal at first glance: the clean bright surfaces are still the way I left them, there’s no clothing or weapons strewn all over, the paintings still hang neatly on the wall. The only object that told me he had been present is a flurry of white and baby blue flowers sitting cheerfully on the coffee table. I approach them like a bomb, gently crinkling the plastic wrapping as I cut the flowers free and place them in a vase. When finished, I notice the small notecard on them: blank. Disappointing. The rest of the suite is absolutely silent, so I assume he must be out for now. Perfect time for a shower.

I tiptoe a little on the way to my room, and then scold myself. I refuse to feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable in my own home just because some man is also here. That’s a level of misery I refuse to touch. I still lock the door, though. What if he accidentally walks in on me changing? What if I see him changing? That would be terrible. I would hate that.

The water is warm, and the shower makes me relax a little more from the disastrous few days I’ve had. My hair is put up in braids, but a part of me feels like taking them out to clean every inch of my body. I wash off the performance anxiety, the shock, and the grief, one at a time. Before I can help it, my eyes sting, accompanied by a familiar pang in my chest. I almost don’t want it to stop. I need to feel alive. I need to be here with myself. Bast, help me, I think, lifting my head to the water, letting it wash away my tears. I’ve never been one too devoted to religion, but thinking of some all-powerful being can help me to cope with the never-ending rat-race of politics. Sometimes it can feel so great to fight for what you love, but when the dust settles, things only seem the same or worse, and redundancy rears its ugly head.

After far too long, my hands are pruny and I start to get a little light headed, so I take one more deep breath, hugging my shoulders tight. Squeezing with all my might, like I was wringing out a towel I exhale it all out, rolling them back. I can keep going, I have to.

The bathroom is steamy and light, and the crimson sky pouring in from the window tells me I got out just in time. Nothing puts me back in a positive mood like a Wakandan sunset. Just as promised, the set sent in from the royal designers hangs proudly in my closet. A fierce, sunny yellow that’s sure to look impeccable on my skin is cut into leggings and a top that are perfect for yoga. I’m almost excited to get back out into my garden, until I remember that it’s not summer anymore and it definitely won’t be as vibrant as I remember it. Bast, I have to come back more often. 

Through the kitchen, there’s still no trace of the Winter Soldier, so I assume he must be wherever he sleeps at night. Upside down in a cave, probably, I joke in my head, until I correct myself. He’s a human being just like you, only a little stronger. Exaggeration will only make you tolerate him less. It’s a lot easier to enjoy yoga when you’re not waiting on a scientifically-enhanced-master-killer to greet you. 

My plots are a lot less dead than I thought, the new imported herbs and the vibranium fertilizer are pairing nicely. As much as I try to defy Wakandan stereotypes, I really do use it everywhere. Melted and then woven into chicken wire, it not only stops small animals from eating my produce, it vibrates intensely, scaring them away for good. The rain gauges measure the acid level and filter it from what I recycle for the plants. If I hadn't been so busy these past months, I would’ve started my heated greenhouse, which can accurately recreate the ideal conditions of the most rare and complex plants’ growing processes. 

I roll out my mat, bringing my arms and gaze to the sky, and blow out, reaching down low. My Kimoyo beads tighten on my wrist so as not to slide down, and I’m ready to start, my eyes gently shut.

“Uh, excuse me.” The Winter Soldier is in my garden.

“What?” I bark at him, shooting up into a fighting stance, kind of muscle-memory when I’m startled, but I wouldn’t put anything past him. I stumble a little before regaining it, but I know he noticed. Damn it.

“Hello,” He swallows a smile, eyes flickering down at the hand he’s got outstretched in front of him for a handshake. “We’ve met before. I’m Bucky Banres.”

I watch him, his hand still out, practically begging for a handshake. After a while he puts it away, “Yes, I know who you are. You’re the Winter Soldier.” I tell him, squinting my eyes in scrutiny.

“Actually, I don’t really go by that anymore. I’m just Bucky. Not the Winter Soldier.” His eyes hold a twinge of regret in them, and…. Shame? The crickets in the garden get just a little bit louder. I remember I shouldn’t be taking my frustration out on this grown man who’s just doing his job. “And Shuri hired me to protect you.”

“I understand that, but it doesn’t explain you hiding in my garden.”

“Hold on, I–” He wipes a hand over his face, like he can’t be bothered to deal with me. “I wasn’t hiding in your garden. I was doing a lap around the perimeter to check for possible security breaches, miss.”

Very maturely, I scoff and roll my eyes at him. “Whatever,” is the best thing I could come up with, while in a skin tight suit after showing the Wint– Bucky Barnes, where the sun doesn’t shine. “I see you’re already helping yourself.” I say, as unaffected as I can, gesturing to his handful of plums. 

Bucky sets his jaw in a certain way, blue eyes still boring into my face as he defends himself. “Griot told me your usual schedule, so I knew you’d be out soon. Wasn’t gonna just take them.”

“That’s nice.” Blandly, I resume my routine, bending my left knee in front and extending the right backwards, resting into a warrior’s pose. My arms stretch in front and back also. He doesn’t get the hint that I’d like to be left alone now, and instead turns into a chatterbox.

“Y’know, my friend‘s got some just like where he’s from. Morris, right?” He squints as he looks past me at the sun setting over the front of the house. “I thought they grew in the summertime.”

All of this curiosity is just not making sense. “I thought you were quieter.”

He rolls the plums in his hand, ogling them like something spectacular: “Well, I guess Wakanda isn’t a place that abides by normal agricultural rules with all of this technology.” A few seconds pass of uninterested silence before we both speak at the same time.

“Which friend–”

“So, would you mind–”

I take a deep breath, and start again, “Yes, you can have the plums. The texture is foul to me.” Waving away the thought, I relax into a neutral stance and finally look him in the eye. Not so unpleasant. “Which friend?”

He lights up at the ability to talk about someone he loves, like a kid who finally got what he wants for Christmas. “Sam Wilson, Captain America. We’ve uh–” A pause to scratch the back of his head. “We’ve known each other for a while.” Despite myself, I smile at this notion. 

“How sweet. I always hear good things about that man.”

Crossing his arms over his broad chest: “He’s single, by the way.” Bucky is definitely not a shy matchmaker.

I sink into a lotus pose facing him, letting each hand rest delicately on my knees. “I’m not.”

He lets a silence pass for a few more seconds. I can almost hear him thinking. Staring at me still, I can feel the focus on my closed eyes. “Yes, you are.”

“No, I mean I’m married to my work.” I blink open my eyes, and he looks perplexed for a moment while windchimes sound from across the garden. His short cropped hair moves a little in the wind.

“Being a cultural ambassador for such a reclusive country takes up most of my free-time. I’m sure your friend understands the effort it takes to represent a nation.”

His lidded eyes are downcast. “Yeah, but he still tries to get out of the house from time to time. It’s nice that you care so much. I’ve lost all of my patriotism.”

“Different things work for different countries. For me, it’s not as simple as patriotism. Wakanda is my life, as cliche and unhealthy as that sounds. I have to work hard, day in and day out to make sure our standard of excellence is upheld. America has no standards for its people.”

“As true as that may be, Captain America has always been a representation of what America could be. Maybe your excellency could be of use.” My eyes snap open at that absurdity and I can’t help but laugh. 

At first, he was actually serious and didn’t get what was so funny, then, he rolled his eyes like a 13-year-old. Stifling a smile, he rolls his tongue to his upper jaw. “Okay, I don’t think it was that funny, really.” My loud cackles drown out his irritated grumbles, low like purrs. Rotating the plums in his hand, he flexes his metal arm, and the plates shift and then resettle.

“Let me tell you, if I ever start working for the American government, kill me, because that’s an imposter who’s stolen my likeness.” I tilt my head all the way back until I’m looking at the sky. “But I wouldn’t mind working with Sam Wilson.”

Bucky nods his head in acceptance. Good, we’re finally getting somewhere. Maybe this will be alright after all, as long as he stays out of my way. He stretches his arm to me again, the real human one. “Nice to finally meet you.” He offers a closed-lip smile, one that’s not completely insincere.  I stand up, returning the kindness. “Likewise. Enjoy the plums.” He walks past me into my suite, waving a set of Kimoyo beads in front of the scanner. Wow, so we’re giving those to anyone now. Before I can think any more negative thoughts, I take a big deep breath, and reach my arms up to the sky. This is a start.