#wish i knew how to draw water better

[moonstruckdraws]

Fun! :] Don’t know why I drew this a while ago, but was more experimental if anything

[writtenapoiogy]

consumed by flames; jacaerys velaryon

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x f!reader

summary: bathtub funtime 18+

word count: 2.0k

warnings: nsfw. 18+, smut, MINORS DNI, porn w lil plot, bathtub sex, jacaerys is a pleaser, jacaerys loves wife!reader and creating heirs, fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, slight a little more than slight choking, breeding kink, slight dirty talk.

a/n: briefly proofread yet again it is 1am almost 2 and i've been up since 5am yesterday but i had to get this out 😁

You and Jace had just come back from a ride on Vermax. After the war, life on Dragonstone had been peaceful for a short while. Sometimes you wish you and Jace could lock yourselves away at Dragonstone and just kick everyone else out. That sadly, was not possible.

It had been a couple of months since Queen Rhaenyra took her rightful seat on the Iron Throne.

Which means the two of you were also still newlyweds.

Due to the war, You and Jacaerys had to wait to wed, which was dreadful for both parties. Once Rhaenyra had her coronation your wedding ceremony soon took place.

Within the two months since You and Jacaerys spent half that time at the Red Keep enjoying the celebrations and helping get Jace’s younger siblings settled in.

Nearly every day following your wedding, you and your husband had laid together. Every time better than the last.

You and Jacaerys had only been back at Dragonstone for roughly two weeks. The first week was spent wrapped in each other’s warmth. The smells of sex never leaving your chambers. Jacaerys was a man on a mission. He constantly wanted to please you. Teasing you till he knew he was the only one that could satisfy you the way you craved.

After that pleasure-filled week, everything sort of died down. You and Jace had been busy with the tasks of being the Prince and Princess of Dragonstone. A weight you were not expecting to be hit with.

Your handmaiden had drawn you a bath to rid you of the sweat and scent of smoke that seeped into your skin. You were about to take off your robe and step into the hot water when your husband walked through the door.

“Jacaerys?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you took in your husband clad in a robe. “My husband, if you also wish to bathe I am sure we can get someone to draw you one aswell.”

It just dawned on you that this was the first time You and Jace had been alone in almost a week. Alone. Alone without one or the other being asleep. The stresses and demands of the day taking a toll on one of you or, sometimes, both of you.

“I do not wish to bathe alone.” He glided over to you and began to untie your robe. “I do miss my wife.”

Jacaerys ran his hands down your sternum after loosening the knot. You took a deep inhale feeling his fiery touch against your ice-cold skin.

“I keep my bath water quite scalding, my love. I do not wish to harm your skin.”

Jacaerys looked at you with a smirk. “You know the words of House Targaryen. I am Fire and Blood. Warm water will not harm me.”

Jacaerys was right about one thing. He was Fire and Blood. Everything he did set you ablaze. From the way he spoke to the way he looked at you. Oh, gods, and his touch. It was like his hands were made of molten lava. A beautiful contrast to your frigid skin. His warmness brought a sense of comfort to you.

“How could I forget.”

Jace’s lip twitched into a smile. He loved you with his entire being. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky. He placed his lips on yours in a sweet soft kiss. “Let me help wash you.” He spoke against your lips

“As you wish, my prince.” You stole another kiss from him. Missing his soft lips.

He pushed your robe off your shoulders and watched it cascade to the floor. You breathe in a sharp inhale as your body gets overtaken by the chill in the air. Your nipples harden and Jace cannot take his eyes off of them, even if he tried.

He offers his hand and you gladly take it. He walked you over to the tub not letting go till you had both of your feet in the water. Jace went to grab the new lavender soap that was imported specifically at your request.

As he walked back towards you, you couldn’t help but notice the tent in his robe. Seeing that made you feel an ache deep inside of you. An emptiness that you need to be filled.

“Just lean back, let me take care of you my sweet.”

Jacaerys wet the bar of soap and lathered it onto his hands. The sweet and calm scent engulfed his sense of smell. He set the soap down and began washing you. He started at your neck and shoulders slowly and firmly massaging the soap into your skin

He did this across the entirety of your body. Jace’s touch brought your body aflame. He was avoiding the parts of you that craved his touch, intensely. You let out a low whine when his hands ran down your side lightly passing over the sides of your breasts. The slightest brush and this man had your body consumed by flames.

You heard a light chuckle from behind you. “Do you find something amusing, Husband?”

Jacaerys shook his head, “Not at all.” He placed a wet kiss on your neck, inhaling your lavender-infused skin. He ran his hands back up and cupped your breasts this time, you couldn’t help but moan.

“Jacaerys…”

And his hands went back down this time spreading your legs apart and you felt the air leave your lungs.

“Jacaerys..”

He was dragging his hands close to your heat. It was right there. And just when you thought he was going to help dull this ache, he withdrew his hands, again.

“Jace, please. You know what I crave. Why are you withholding it from me.”

“Because it is fun.”

You could feel his sly smirk against your neck.

“Say please.” He demanded, his hands cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples. He was making it incredibly hard to focus on anything.

“Plea-.”

“In High Valyrian.”

He had been getting you to learn High Valyrian. Something about you knowing his mother tongue made him swell with pride. It made him feel as though it would make your family stronger once you have children.

Also, he found it very very hot.

“Kostilus.”

“Hmm, that’s my girl.” Jacaerys brought one hand to your cheek turning your face to his, to take your lips in a fiery heat.

As soon as his mouth hit yours, your own fell agape. You craned your neck desperately wanting to feel his tongue against yours. Oh, how you both missed this. Feeling so needy for each other. Your tongues lapped at the other. You let out whines and whimpers into his mouth.

His right hand stopped toying with your nipples and slid down to your core. Jace rubbed light circles against your clit, eliciting a moan from deep inside your chest. His hand that was on your cheeky slowly slid down your throat till he wrapped his long fingers around it. This made you break away from the kiss. His amber eyes had such a dark look in them. As if you too lit him aflame.

Feeling him around you like this made you dizzy. Engulfed in his smell. In his heat. The fire in his blood.

When Jace thought you had had enough torture he slid two digits into your entrance, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“Fuck, Jace.” Your head lulled back onto his shoulder. You kept eye contact with him. Jace felt some precome leak from his throbbing cock as he looked at you like this. Spread out for him. Slowly grinding your hips down on his fingers. He added a bit more pressure around your neck. Watching as your mouth fell open, you tried to get some more air in your lungs. Solely depending on him for your air, for your desires, for everything.

He kept pumping his fingers into you a such a slow murderous pace. You don’t know how he does it but he had you shaking on the verge of your climax in mere minutes. You were squirming, moaning his name and a litany of curses. You pulled your hand out of the bath water and threw it into his curls. A guttural moan left your lips when the pads of his fingers hit that soft spot deep inside of you.

You came around his fingers with a deep mewl gripping and pulling his hair in the process. The act caused him to whine in your ear. It had been too long. He kept pumping his fingers into you bringing you down from your high. He removed his other hand from your neck and was rubbing you anywhere his hand could reach as he whispered in your ear in High Valyrian. Telling you how good you did.

Somehow in your daze, you understood him.“Get in here with me, please. I wish to feel your skin against mine.” You breathed.

Jacaerys is quick to shed his robe. He pushed you forward slightly and climbed in right behind you. He situated you so that he was able to rub his cock threw your folds. Your chest pressed against his back. You sigh at the feeling of his warm body against yours.

You began to rock your hips, feeling his cock rub through your slit with ease. You heard him breathing heavily in your ear.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You tried to speak and tell him how desperately you craved for him to be inside of you. But all you could do was babble. The sensation of his tip as it hit your clit over and over again.

“I know, you do not have to say it. Gods, I know.” Jace lifted you up just enough to position himself at your entrance. He swiftly wrapped his left around around you and slowly eased you onto his cock.

You both gasp when he’s fully seated within you. The head of his cock mushed against that spot again. He somehow always knew how to get to it. Jacaerys, with one hand on your ass cheek and his other wrapped around you, slowly lifted you before he slammed you back down on him. A whimper left your lips, your hands flew to the sides of the bath to prepare yourself for his onslaught.

Even when he was going harder or faster he still managed to fuck you with so much love and tenderness.

Jace began slow. Let you get used to him inside of you again. His pace, which quickened by his third deep thrust, had you saying his name in a tantalizing prayer. He kept going constantly hitting your gspot over and over again. The repetition. The mere torture against your most sensitive spot had you reeling.

Water splashing.

You two moaning each other’s names.

And the smell of lavender and sex was all-consuming to the both of you.

You didn’t know what kind of sounds were leaving your mouth nor did you care. Right now all you cared about was that your sweet husband was finally back inside of you. Pleasing you the way you loved. The way he always does.

Your hips bounced with his movements out of pure instinct. “Jacaerys. Please.” You didn’t even know what you were pleading for at this point. But he did. He coaxed you into your second climax of the night. This one hit you hard. Drenching him in your release. You could feel yourself pulsating around his cock. Begging him to come inside of you over and over again.

Jace groaned at the sensation of you coming around him. “Oh you’re gonna look so perfect when my seed takes. When you get all plump from having our heir inside of you.” He kept pumping into you. His thrusts now getting erratic.

“Yes, Gods, please.” You said in a satisfied gasp.

Even his seed was hot. As he came inside of you, you felt his searing essence flow into your cunt. You bore yourself down on him. You wanted nothing more than to keep all of him come inside of you. You wanted to give him an heir. You needed it. You needed his seed to take. The thought of you carrying his child mixed with the feeling of his come leaking out of you had you coming again.

“Fuck.” Jacaerys leaned his forehead against your back as he caught his breath. “We should take more baths together.”

You chuckle, “Oh but how will we ever keep clean, my prince.”

[hwajin]

☆°. — ғɪғᴛᴇᴇɴ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇs ᴘᴀsᴛ ғᴏᴜʀ | hhj

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, fluff

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: hyunjin x afab!reader

𝐰𝐜: 3.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, cumming inside

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is barely proof read AND inspired by the bathrobe look in paris but also hyunjin in milan 🫶 hope you like it <333

You could feel his gaze on you. On your figure, your body. On your whole. The clear sound of his 2B pencil dancing along the cheap, store-bought paper echoed quietly in contrast to the music playing somewhere in the back, from the radio, or one of your phones, or from outside your hotel room altogether — it didn’t much matter to you, for his gaze on your body, on your figure, on your whole was all that did.

You weren’t sure if he was aware that you were aware — his eyes on you, the pencil scratching against the paper; you knew you were the object for his current spurt of creativity. The object of his inspiration. The object of his works — his very own and personal muse. You knew, and the knowledge, the very thought alone, made you dizzy, made you lose track of the sentence you were reading in the tour guide provided by the hotel.

Milan was beautiful. You were working your way through page after page, taking in museums and cathedrals, art galleries you knew Hyunjin would die to see. One page, his gaze on you, long, intimate, longing. Another page, eyeing the ‘Pinacoteca di Brera’, putting in a bookmark to later show him, and you felt his eyes on you again. Unbudging. Persistent. He either was unsure of your anatomy, or simply enjoyed to stare.

“I can feel you staring, you know.”

You looked up, and your eyes momentarily locked with his own, dark ones. Sparking. Speaking, without words. His hair had dried a good bit ever since he’d stepped out the shower, the white bathrobe snug loosely around his naked body leaving only so much to imagination. You looked at him, smiling, teasing, and he stared back — aware, and smug. His eyes wandered down to his art again — faint strokes of your face adorning the page and you wondered what had moved Hyunjin to capture you in this very moment — it was mundane, the moment, and you didn’t look any bit different – or, better, for that matter – than you did any other day. You were reading a tour guide, lazy, tired, solemn — you wondered where he saw the beauty in that.

“I know. I don’t mind that you can feel it.”

A pang to your heart, and he looked up from his page again, after adding lines here and there which as though magically transformed into plasticity, into your eyes and nose and mouth. You were fascinated by his art. You grew bashful at his words. And you were enamored by his eyes, his face. His whole; the way he looked. Milan was beautiful — but suddenly you forgot all about the tour guide, about the trip here you had bought for his birthday. You forgot all about the sights and museums and art galleries, for he sat across from you, sight enough, creating the only art you ever wished to look at.

You were sure you blushed, your skin acquainting the same colour of the roses blooming on the table in a vase. You could smell them, their scent spreading all around and luring you into depths so captivating you wanted to exist in them for eternity.

Only now you noticed the red paint by your lover’s side, only after thorough inspection of him. He parted his eyes from your own with a grin and continued on his drawing — on your drawing, ultimately, because you knew he’d gift it to you after finishing touches —; his hands reached after the brush laying beside his paper, and with a dip into beforehand-prepared water he activated the red colour, and let it swim across white paper. You couldn't take your eyes off him. You couldn’t take your eyes off the way his hands controlled the paint on his canvas, how the pigment drowned and spread and melted against the grey lines of pencil. Taking everything in, swallowing details, yet enhancing the object of the art, enhancing features of your face. Your cheeks suddenly shone red now on the white paper — and maybe it had been his aim after all, to make you shy, to make you bashful. Reality materialised onto paper, into art. Love did, for every brushstroke, every further pigment of red paint on white canvas meant love, for every further gaze of his, for reference or his own enjoyment you weren’t sure, meant adoration.

It took Hyunjin far longer to finish the painting than he had intended it to. Not because he was struggling with it — drawing you in all shapes and forms was a second nature to him by now —, and not because of exterior reasons altogether. Yet he sat and painted, away and away, adding a line here, colour there, watching you go back to the tour guide; he was sure that it could not possibly take you so long to finish it. That you were spending far too much time on each page, that you were eyeing Hyunjin far too often after every other sentence you read. That it wouldn’t possibly take you so long to inspect sights and places — but that you and him were set on the same mission, seemingly, on the same, interior goal. Finishing the tour guide, completing the painting — meant ending the moment. Ending the tranquility, discarding, ultimately, from admiring the other in the golden light of the slowly setting sun, shadows of trees and buildings casting paintings on your faces. The moment would end, the sun would set, would stop drowning the ebony furniture in your hotel room in golden showers, snow-white bed sheets in warm rays.

You looked up; Hyunjin looked at you, inspecting, one second, another, before he went back to his painting, as concentrated as he had stared at you. You let your eyes wander to somewhere behind him — you looked out the western window, which blind’s didn't do well in saving you from the blinding sun, though you wouldn't have wanted them to, admired the sunset, the city that laid in it, the foreign neighbourhood, the white sky. Maybe Hyunjin caught beauty there — the rich sun on your face. Your sparking eyes, your gleaming expression. Almost sacred, solemn. Meant for only the two of you.

You caught glimpse of the broken clock on the wall behind him, showing fifteen minutes past four — it had been showing fifteen minutes past four for the past two hours now. Or for the past three? How much later was it now, ever since you had settled into the hotel room? The sun had long started to set behind the horizon, though it had stood at its highest spot when you had first entered the single bedroom for two; yet maybe no time had passed at all. Maybe in his presence love was eternal, unending.

You stood up. You had been looking at Hyunjin for far too long; had been only looking at him, inspected his every move, reciprocated his every long, fixed stare, shuddering beneath it simply. You had studied his ever-drying dark hair, his ever-parting bathrobe, his naked collarbones, his paint-laced fingers. The way he stared you down, the way he left you vulnerable and naked with as much as a gaze – and you felt touch starved. His eyes burned on your skin, though it wasn’t sensation enough to satisfy you – you needed more of him. You would always need more of him.

Hyunjin’s eyes followed your figure as you made your way over to him. Without a rush, walking slowly; you bore all the time the world had to offer in your palms, it felt. You walked slowly, yet the scent of the red roses you passed filled Hyunjin’s senses in the breeze your movements created. The floral sensation all around him, your nearing body, your leisure attire, your hazy eyes – he was convinced this moment alone, the sight of you, the golden sun as though casting a halo above your figure, drowning you in warmth and beauty and love, this moment alone was entirely enough to eradicate each and every of his needs, any wish he’s ever wished and any promise he’s ever made; for this moment alone, and your heaven-sent presence was enough to fulfill all. Needs, wishes, promises. If it was you he could look at for eternities, if it was your body he’d have the privilege of holding close for the end of times he would never dare to ask of anything else.

The red paint on Hyunjin’s paper slowly dried out as you finally stood before him. It wasn’t, Hyunjin thought, the roses on the table in a vase which sent their scent across the room, after all – it was you. You smelt of roses. You smelt of vanilla, of red paint, of smoke, of Milan, now that you stood before him, now that he looked up at you, from beneath glasern eyes. You smelt like you, and you smelt like him; traces of his scent and his touch and his promise on your skin, and Hyunjin basked in it.

You didn’t waste much time before you made moves to take a seat on his lap; and not only did Hyunjin realize your attempts momentarily, he also embraced you without as much as hesitation. He found himself drowning in the feeling of your weight on him, allowing you to swallow him whole, allowing you to let your eyes explore. You let them wander from his face to his neck, from his protruding collarbones to his pointy shoulders – the white bathrobe was almost mocking now, doing so little in covering the man that it was nothing but ironic.

And you felt his hands on you, your body. Secure, sure of their position on your hips. Tall fingers, spacey palms; you felt their entirety on your body, and your red heart picked up its’ speed at that.

And you touched him, too. Your hands, cool and soft, found home on his face, each palming a cheek, closing him in. Your thumbs caressed his flush skin, tickled near his eyes, reached towards his parted lips, his hungry lips. Hyunjin looked at you, let you touch him, his face. Let you look at him. Let you make him wait on the kiss he so badly needed, let you bask in him, for he enjoyed nothing more than that.

Your eyes met, and you weren’t sure who granted the first smile, but both your mouths turned upwards, curling into softening features. Roses, red paint, Milan outside the window; though this moment contained of only you and him, and the broken clock, fifteen minutes past four, timelessness. You showed your teeth, your eyes squinting with your smile, and Hyunjin’s were the same.

“Hi.”

A whisper against quiet music and honking cars, angry passengers outside, and Hyunjin reciprocated with a chuckle. Then, a whisper as soft as the prior one, “Hi.”; and he pulled you in. Or maybe he reached for you, longed for you. Or maybe you both moved only enough for your lips to connect, finally, in soft passion. Vigorously, though not in haste, not in roughness. Forcefully, rather, impatiently forceful as you let your tongue dart out of your mouth so it could explore his, and it didn’t take the man as much as a minute to welcome you in, to invite you into himself. And you let your tongue dance with his own, in a waltz, or something faster than that, something less rhythmic – something freer. Your hands stood ground on his body, fingers digging into his shoulder as his dug into your flesh, in covered flesh by your aching hips. Your mouths moved against one another sloppily, and teeth dragging across lips, tongues easing off the sting right after, wet, loud, swallowing any sound which slipped past your throats. Quiet, still timid, breathy sighs which tasted of chocolate and shaky moans which were barely audible against exterior noise. You saw stars behind your eyelids – if because you squeezed them shut so tight it hurt, or because Hyunjin’s touch on your body, the bite he had just placed on your lower lip, and the way he pulled away right after, only for a second, less than that, to admire you with a smile before diving back into you, you weren’t sure, but there were stars all the same. Stars, and Hyunjin, darkening Milan behind the hotel room windows. Fifteen minutes past four. Timelessness.

Hyunjin pulled you closer. Impatience, or simply the need to have you nearer, more flushed against his body than you already were. His hands lay strong on your body, and he pulled you in, your cores coming in contact, hot, ignited, searching for more than this. Than clothed touches, more than the faint feeling of his erection against your sex. More than his hands in your hair, entangling long, warm fingers there, more than his teeth bruising your lips. You’d always want more – and you were glad that Hyunjin was no different. For his hands wandered, and his lips with them, kissing and nibbling where his fingers danced upon – your neck, your shoulders, then, your chest, unbuttoning your shirt one by one, not without a kiss to your skin with every further act of undressing. One button, a kiss, a gaze up to you beneath his lashes, a faint smile, a smug grin at your scrunched brows and staggered breath. Another button, another kiss, and his gaze fell back to your chest, watching your ever-exposing body, so impatient in his seat yet so unrushed. Taking his time. Feeling your bosom rise and fall against his lips, hearing your breath, your sighs, your heartbeat. Feeling hot – your skin was burning, your body was, and Hyunjin with it.

Your shirt was discarded onto the floor. Long forgotten, along with your shorts; Hyunjin’s bathrobe lay leisurely around him, half-opened, only carelessly shoved off his body yet not having borne enough patience to fully free him from it. Though neither of you cared. You let the fabric hang off the chair you were sitting on, the softness of it the only thing touching your skins besides each other's skin. You were closer now, much closer than before, though you barely deemed it possible. You sat right atop Hyunjin’s erection, his right hand resting against your inner thigh – he wasn’t touching yet, only teasing to, and your body grew hotter yet, needier. Your hips searched for friction, your fingers dug into Hyunjin’s scalp with a force which made the man groan out in deep satisfaction, and you kissed him with a fervor enough to move oceans – and he drowned in it, gave into you, kissed you back as feverishly, as messily.

He touched you, too. Finally, eventually, and you muffled a loud moan at the unexpectedness of it. Two fingers against your clit as Hyunjin’s tongue entered your mouth, as he forced your tongue to push against his own – to which you obliged, gladly. You moaned into him as you reciprocated his kiss, grinded your hips into his touch, into his hand. He answered with a sigh, with fingers which increased their speed, with a bite against your lower lip. It ought to hurt by now, your lower lip, with the way he was nibbling at it, though you believed that your body was immune to feel pain in relation to your lover. So, he bit away, nibbled on the sweet spot of your neck, on the lobe of your ear only to moan right into it, to send shivers down the entirety of your body, and you let him. And there was no better feeling, you believed.   

You disconnected your lips from his. There was a second where his mouth searched for yours, where his body hadn’t yet registered the emptiness your parting left, but then he looked at you, leaned back in his chair, eyes glassy, fingers circling around your clit slowly, mindlessly. As though it was a bodily reaction, an instinct. As though he wasn’t actively aware of his movements at all. His breath hitched in his throat, and he looked a mess – pupils blown out, eyes dark as night, hair disheveled, mouth red and puffed and bruising. There were faint love bites blooming on his neck already, ones that would turn a deep red, or a deep purple by the next morning. The sun had almost set behind the horizon, was casting its’ last, weak rays upon the planet – and those last, weak rays of golden light seemed all to land on the man beneath you. He shone, almost golden himself, chest and cheeks flushed red, and he was glowing. Glowing in the way he looked at you, glowing the smile he granted you, genuine, true. He waited on you, waited on a kiss, or on something else, something more, maybe. Yet he let you stare at him, let you admire him in the last, weak rays of sunshine that seemed to have been saved up for him, solely – and then you kissed him, unable to resist wide eyes and longing mouth, and he kissed you back. Touched you, and you let your hands wander down his body, not missing a single line on it, not missing an inch before your hand palmed his crotch. You could sit and kiss him forever, could bask in him and his body for eternity – but you were impatient, too, especially when it came to him, to your lover. When it was him, you lost control of yourself, of your body, of your soul. It belonged to him entirely, all of it.

He let you sink onto him. Hyunjin let you bury your face in the sweatiness of his neck, in its’ sensitivity, let you groan out into his ear as you felt him bottom out entirely. He let you adjust to him, and you let him hold you, against him, against his body, your heart against his own, chest to chest. You let him whisper sweet nothings, promises, and confessions, and entire worlds. You loved his never tiring tongue in moments of intimacy – he talked and talked and talked, words sweeter than honey could ever be, and sounds more sinful than anything you’d ever known.

You screamed out when he moved. Thrusting his hips into your own, up and deeper inside of you, and you struggled to keep your composure. Your arms snug tightly around his body, around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer – you melted into one as he kept moving into you, both hands keeping a steady position on your hips, to hold you in place, or to grant you stability, or to grant himself some. And the room erupted into a symphony of your voices, of your moans and grunts and sighs, whispers and whines of each other’s names. Your senses filled with everything that was him – his voice, deep and longing and loud in your ear, his hand bruising your flesh, groping at you so harshly you saw stars, his scent, his golden body, his mouth on your skin. Everything was him, his erection so very deep within you that it almost hurt, though not quite, his right hand which suddenly found its’ way to your clit again. Drawing figures eight there impatiently as his hips grew frantic, slowly losing rhythm.

Your body ignited. It was hot, it was wet and a mess, and it was fifteen minutes past four. The broken clock on the wall behind Hyunjin capturing you two in its’ timelessness, in its infinity. It had stopped solely for you, for your love, for your souls. Your eyes closed shut when Hyunjin bit against your neck, when his teeth grazed your skin just deep enough to not break it, to not draw blood, and you came against his body in shaking waves, with a broken moan which was swallowed by the man in an instant. You felt him fill you up as he groaned into the kiss, as he let his tongue enter your mouth in lazy manner, careless now of sloppiness, of the lack of coordination. He held you close, he thrusted into you tiredly, he let you hold him. He let you kiss him, just as tired, just as lazy, basking in him, in his taste, in his scent.

Milan was beautiful. Night began to drown the city in darkness, buildings and trees, cars and people and the world losing color, quieting down. But it was still fifteen minutes past four – and you sat in Hyunjin’s hold for an eternity longer, in hushed giggles and shy confessions, and loved each other throughout the entirety of the night.

@es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky @katsukis1wife

[watchmegetobsessed]

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A/N: im still in denial and this is my way of coping

WORD COUNT: 1k

SUMMARY: You knew the emotions would catch up with Harry once more after the show. And you're there to guide him through these overwhelming feelings.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

 You knew it would be just a matter of time before the overwhelming emotions of the final show would catch up with Harry again once he has left the stage. The speech he delivered was just the first wave, knowing Harry, and you know him probably better than anyone else, more was to come.

The backstage was full of hugs, congratulations and promises to never forget the experiences shared on this amazing journey. Harry stayed in his show outfit for way longer he usually did as he made his rounds among his friends, family, all his loved ones who came out to support him on the end of his tour. And you stayed by his side through it all. His hand remained wrapped around yours and you silently waited for him to process it.

Now you’re back in your hotel room, it’s almost dawn, the night has stretched long, though you know Harry wished it lasted forever. You’re lying in bed, waiting for him to finish in the bathroom, scrolling through your phone, watching all the fan made tributes to Love On Tour.

You notice that the water has shut down for a while now, but Harry still hasn’t come out. Slipping off the bed you walk over to the closed door and try to listen to the voices and figure out what he is doing and then you hear it.

The sobs.

“Harry? Can I come in?” you gently knock on the door before opening it and poking your head inside.

Standing in front of the mirror, he is leaning onto the sink, his wet curls are falling ahead and you see his shoulders shaking right away.

“Oh baby.” You push the door open more and move over to him, hugging his waist from behind as you press a million kisses between his shoulder blades.

“S-sorry, I just—“ he speaks up, but his sobs doesn’t let him talk.

“It’s okay. It’s okay baby,” you squeeze him and rest your forehead against the back of his neck while you just patiently give him the chance to let it all out.

You knew it was coming, it’s no surprise. You expected him to have his emotions overflow at one point, he gave over two years of his life to this tour, it’s natural he is having a hard time dealing with letting it go.

Minutes pass by and his breathing somewhat regulates, you loosen your hold around him and urge him to move around so you can look at him. You’ve seen the tiredness on his face for a while now, but it’s screaming now, mixed with the sadness and bitterness that’s eating him away right now.

You take his tear soaked cheeks in your hands and lift yourself up onto your tiptoes so your lips could meet his salty ones.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay?”

He just nods and lets you walk him out of the bathroom and to the bed. He takes his side and you climb onto yours and he curls against you in an instant, his head lying on your chest as you’re propped up against the headboard.

“Sorry, it just all… came crashing over me,” he breathes out, his voice croaked and low.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

With gentle fingers, you’re raking through his hair, massaging his scalp while his hands slip under your shirt, to your ribcage so he can follow how it expands with every breath you draw.

“It’s so weird that it’s over.”

“It is, yeah,” you hum. Raking your brain you’re trying to figure out what would help him and you decide to recall your favorite memories. “Do you remember the show in Nashville? When I spilled cranberry juice on your shirt so you didn’t wear one under the sparkly jacket?”

“I remember that,” he chuckles. “Don’t think the fans were mad at it.”

“They all just want to see you naked, like I do,” you tease him. “That’s why I hid your shirt on Wembley night four.”

“What?” he lifts his head. “That was you?”

“Of course,” you grin.

“You cheeky little thing,” he shakes his head before resting his chin on your chest this time so he can look at you. “I loved it when you matched your outfit with mine.”

“You remember what shows we matched?” you challenge him.

“Madison Square Garden night one and two, Denver, Tokyo, Edinburgh, Vienna…” he recites, probably better than you could have.

“My mom loves the picture of us in Edinburgh, we looked like two Barbie dolls,” you chuckle.

“Pauli said you should have gotten matching outfits with them as well.”

“I am part of the Love Band too, right?”

“Especially when Sarah teaches you how to drunk before shows,” he smirks, taking you back to all the times Sarah was your teacher even though your sense of rhythm has never been the best.

“I would make an excellent drummer, come on!”

“Absolutely,” he laughs and the tears are finally gone, it’s all just the most precious memories from the past two years.

It gets brighter outside but the two of you can’t stop talking about the best moments you’ll always remember. Harry recalls his favorite fan moments, the signs, the reactions, he tells you about how he often thinks about the pregnant women he did gender reveals for and if the babies have been born already. You tell him about your favorite shows, the best dance moves he has busted out on stage and soon there’s no show you haven’t brought up, there’s something memorable in each and every one.

It’s past six in the morning when Harry finally falls asleep, exhaustion has won and he is snoring gently, still curled up against you as you watch him for a bit, feeling like you’re the one guarding his peace.

“You brought so many people home,” you whisper and craning your neck you press a kiss to the top of his head. “Now it��s time for you to go home and rest.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[brailsthesmolgurl]

Salvation

In another parallel universe, the legend was retold. The God of Sea and his bride has A heart so great that it holds the power to bring Lemuria back to its olden days glory. The bride however, is untouchable. If so, who is going to be salvaged?

Here comes the parallel universe ending! I know it was long awaited, but thank you for waiting patiently as all of my written stories are planned meticulously hence it takes up a LOT of time.

Read the start of this series: Damnation

Read the sequel of the Damnation: Retribution

Warnings: Angst, Spoilers for Rafayel Lore, Character Deaths, Gore and Blood (tbh its a common theme for this series already). A little bitty suggestive heh cause my hormones are raging for this man. Smol surprise at the end :)

"Tomorrow marks the day." Rafayel's slender fingers ran through y/n's curls, a smile slowly stretched across her lips, her cheeks evidently turning rubescent under the moonlight's sheen. "Tomorrow is the day I shall bring you to visit Lemuria." The purple haired god laid next to his soon-to-be bride, on her bed, in her chambers. The thing he could do to her right here and right now were endless. And none of them involved any items of clothing. That was how much the young god was holding himself back.

The smile on her face never faded, as her small hands reached up to cup both sides of his cheeks, his face warm and soft to her touch. "I can't wait. Hearing all of those stories from you, no pictures nor drawings could possibly compare to the reality of seeing your kingdom with my own eyes." She said, eyeing Rafayel glistening under the moonlight, the shadow on his face does not cover up his ethereal looks. Rafayel leaned in closer to her, his breath mingled against her cheeks. "You know we should not kiss until tomorrow, right?"

Her reminder of the pre-wedding taboo made him grunted, his lips formed an immediate pout and he threw his head back, clearly frustrated. "I should be the one to ban such traditions next time." He grumbled, but calmed down to look at her when her hands cupped his cheeks again, thumbs smoothing over his chiselled jawline. "How could one possibly live with not kissing their bride the day before their wedding?"

His childlike remark made her giggled. "Your people had done it for ages, and I figured it would only be right if we were to go along with such customs. As I shall be the first mortal bride afterall. I do not wish to upset any of your merfolks." She raised her hand up, surrendering herself and Rafayel leaned forward to hug her tight within his arms. Laughters erupted from the both of them.

When they looked into each other's eyes, their laughters slowed down, mesmerised by one another's gaze. Y/n could barely believe that this very moment is happening to her. It felt like yesterday when she had rescued Rafayel from the sandy shores and released him back into the ocean after he had promised to return to her some day. Now, here they are, awaiting for a grand wedding tomorrow, an official bond to be tied between the God of the Sea and his mortal bride.

The once cherubic looking Rafayel had grown into the dashing young god he is today. With misty purple locks that are naturally wavy---although he constantly claimed that it was the sea water that turned it wavy. Eye colour a mixture of lilac purple and lapis blue, that could change colour depending on the lighting and his mood. A personality that not many can and would want to handle given his nonchalant-ness. Mixing in good looks and his non-chalant attitude, he is like walking trouble amongst mortals.

But she knew Rafayel better than anyone. She knows the way he talks, although condescending to some, she knows that he is not just a talker, but also a doer. He nags her over the smallest of things, be it her dress colour not matching her lip colour for the day or whatnot; she knows that he cares for everything, even for the smallest of details. He yaps like he knows what he wants and gives off the vibe of an independent individual, but deep down, he is just a needy young man, seeking for her constant comfort, validation, love and affection.

These are just some of the small characteristics of Rafayel that made her fall for him even more. She watched as Rafayel inched in, his lips aligned with hers. But before she got to utter a word, he quickly moved his lip upwards and pressed a big kiss onto her forehead. "If I could not kiss your lips, I would just have to settle for kisses on your forehead and cheeks then." He teased her and continued barraging her face with kisses. Their laughters for the night were endless.

Rafayel sat at the edge of her window sill, turning around to watch her as she was fast asleep, her brunette hair messily tousled all over the bed, but she looked picturesque, with the silvery moonlight painted across parts of her face and the steady breathing of her chest made her a living art in Rafayel's eyes. "I shall see you later, my beloved bride." Not wanting to wake her in her slumber, he dived into the water below.

...

"Your highness! Stop running so quickly!" The maid, Natasha cried out, struggling to keep up with the bride's quick feet. "Your dress might get dirty and unkempt! And I did not receive any other gowns from them!" Sadly, the maid was the only one who gave her blessing to y/n's marriage. The king and queen could care less as long as Rafayel kept their pockets loaded with gold.

"Come on Natasha, lessen the apprehension, would you?" The bride slowed down her footsteps and turned to flash her maid a wide smile. "Today is a big day after all and I know, everything is going to be alright." Seeing the bride's grin, Natasha sighed in defeat and trotted behind the bride, exhausted but still anticipating to watch the union ceremony.

When they arrived near the sea stacks, Natasha handed her a red velvet box. Upon opening the latch, the box opened to reveal a veil, one woven from silk that could only be harvested from sea anemones that grow in the far West, the ones that only glow during the winter times. The veil was translucent, with an iridescence of silver glow whenever the light refracted off of its material. The crown that goes around her head is made out of pearls that were harvested from oysters that could only be found in the southern region of the seas. Collected and crushed by the merfolks and infused with a rare blue gem that only Lemurians possessed to create the crown for the veil.

The veil shorts of nothing extravagant, as expected of the God of Sea's taste. Rafayel ensured that this veil was done 6 months prior to the wedding as he does not appreciate any mishaps especially when it is related to his bride. Y/n took the veil out of the box and she carefully placed it on top of her head, Natasha going behind her to dust off the excess sand off of the back of the wedding gown. She also took the time to adjust the veil behind y/n's head, wanting to make sure everything is in place before the ceremony begins.

"It has to be perfect. Perfect." She remembered the way Rafayel nodded his head towards her, spelling the word PERFECT to her just so she could understand him. But Natasha caught him the moment he said the first sentence. Although she just waved him off that time, she knew that on the day of the wedding, Rafayel is the last person she would want to upset. Who knows what would happen to her if she made him upset. The thought itself sent a shudder down her spine.

"How do I look?" Y/n turned to face Natasha and the maid's heartwarming gaze gave her just the answer she needed to hear indirectly. "I can't wait for this Natasha." She held onto the maid's hands tightly. Horns started blaring loudly and the two women looked towards the sea stacks together. The sun rise made the sea blended in with the sands on the shore, the saturated warm glow casted upon the surface of the waters a sight to behold indeed.

Trumpets and choirs joined in with the blaring of the horns and y/n knew it was time for her to present herself walking towards the sea stacks. "Your Highness, your bouquet. Don't forget it." The maid shoved a bouquet of flame lilies and the bride muttered a thanks, hastily holding onto the bouquet before she stepped out from the backs of the huge rock.

The appearance of the bride made the merfolks gasped in awe, the off-shoulder wedding dress was made out of fine silk, and it did a great job in outlining her bodyline and curves perfectly. Her dress cut off at the mid of her thighs, but a big ribbon was attached to her right hip, aiding in the aesthetic and transitional fabric from fine silk to a chiffon tail. The tail of the dress was completely see through, with droplets of diamonds sewn on it. The bride glowed under the ray of the sun and nobody could have dreamed of a better start to a wedding.

Rafayel emerged from the waters, in his mundane form of course, riding on top of two orcas and he was delivered right onto the top of the sea stacks. His clumsy stumble made her giggled, hands going up to cover her mouth. Rafayel donned a full white suit, with a swallow tail at the back of his tuxedo, his hair neatly styled, probably with the help of his people. And the left side of his pocket peeked a corsage with flame lilies, same as the ones she has as a bouquet in her hands.

Upon seeing his bride, Rafayel was enthralled at her beauty, his jaw dropping slightly ajar before one of the merman spit water at him thus he only managed to snap himself back to reality, glaring at the merman who spat at him as he reached up to wipe the stain off of his sleeves. Not like the water did anything to his outfit either, but he had to be sure of it. It is their big day after all.

"Ain't this my bride." Rafayel said confidently when he walked to the edge of the sea stacks, reaching out his hand to her, for her to take so he could guide her onto the sea stacks. "Careful, I do not wish for my bride to be unable to walk before the grand night tonight, yeah?" His wink made her face flushed instantly and she smacked his arm playfully.

Standing next to him, she felt like everything was set in stone for her finally. She got to marry the one that she had always been in love with and she will be one of the very first mortals to visit this forbidden land under the waters. "Here, we rejoice in each other's company. One of merfolk and the other of mortal." Amund, Rafayel's trusty friend took the opportunity to solemnize the wedding.

"This moment shall mark the first of its kind in mortal and merfolk's history. A reunion to be witnessed between the God of the Sea, Rafayel, and his bride, a mortal. y/n. Shall there be any objections towards this blessed reunion..." Amund trailed off, eyes scanning the crowd, both in the waters and the only human on land before he continued. "You shall not be entertained." His sentence took everyone by surprise and everyone shared an understanding laughter. "Hence, Rafayel, would you take y/n to be your beloved wife? Through all suffrage, illness and happiness?"

Rafayel nodded, facing her and confidently saying. "I will always say yes to that. For I will love you for ages to come."

"How about you y/n, would you accept the God of the Sea, Rafayel's intentions of having to love you through all?" You immediately nodded and Amund shouted. "This reunion is blessed, you may kiss the bride!" Rafayel's lip immediately pressed against his bride's, the kiss shared between the two erupted a huge reaction from the crowd. Claps and whistlings and shoutings could be heard from all directions. The choir then resumed its melody when Rafayel pulled back from her lips. "Y/N?" His smile faltered as he watched his bride's irises had turned into a shade of blood red, matching the same colour of the liquid that was oozing out of his chest, staining his white suit into crimson red.

...

Y/N jolted awake in her own bed, beads of sweat littered all across her face. Running her palms across her face, surprised that her face is cold to her touch despite the current season is far from winter. Reaching over to her bedside drawer, she fetched her goblet and drank the contents of it.

A couple of knocks could be heard from her oak door. "Come in." The door slowly opened to reveal one of the maids, Clarrice. The red head walked in, silver tray in her hand, ready to be served to the princess. She bowed partially as a sign of respect, then placed the tray by the highness' study table before she walked over to pull open the heavy drapes of the curtains to reveal the warm sun rays shining in from the windows.

"It seems like your highness has chosen to sleep in today, hence I had drawn your curtains whilst you were in deep slumber." Clarrice smiled, her pink thin lips a contrast to her pale complexion, brown freckles strewn like constellations on her face. Y/N sat on the bed, eyebrows knitted together, not being able to figure out why Natasha is not greeting her as per usual. Given Natasha was the maid that was specifically assigned to care for the princess.

"Have you seen Natasha anywhere?" The princess questioned, taking another sip out of the goblet in her hand. Milk cold to the inside of her mouth, when the princess had always been accustomed to warm milk in the morning.

"Your highness, Natasha was nowhere to be found within her chambers at dawn." When the maid replied, she watched the princess' eyes narrowed and nervously added on. "It seems like Natasha had left the palace in a hurry. All of her items remained within her chambers, including her uniform. All that was missing was her common outfit. She could have left for the farmers market?" The hesitation in the maid's tone does not sit right with y/n.

"You may head on with your day now. Thank you." The princess spoke promptly and the maid hurried out of the chambers. Placing the goblet back onto the bedside drawer, y/n started retracing the dream she had earlier on. All she remembered from her memory was her being at a beach...the beach near the sea stacks!

The princess catapulted herself off of the bed, still in her outfit. Her outfit. She did not noticed the outfit she had on while she was in bed. She is wearing a gown. Specifically a fancy one, one would wear for a wedding. Wedding ceremony. Natasha. Rafayel. When the pieces started to piece together, so did her heart rate quickened. Raising her hands to her vision, she caught sight of splatters of crusted liquid on her palms, a brownish shade with specks of what seems to be blue fairy dust.

Realisation hit her with a truck and she grabbed the rope and tossed it out of her window, sliding down it as fast her hands would allow her to, the pain of the rope burn unregistered into her senses. Guards at this hour were most likely deployed to their stations within the towers hence allowing her escape all the more easier. Once her feet touched the ground, she ran with her bare feet and went out through the gardens behind the palace that leads her straight towards the seas.

Her bare feet carried her past the sandy shores, the strong currents of the sea breeze accompanying her speed. Coming across the huge rock that leads towards the sea stacks, she slowed down her footsteps, seeing bloody imprints on the sand, foot prints that belong to a human.

When she came to the sea stacks, the scene in front of her made her heart stopped beating for a good while. There laid Natasha, on the shore, with a pool of red replacing her shadow. Some parts of her blood on the shore were darkened, a natural occurrence of oxidation of the bodily fluids. The princess screamed for her maid, her friend, and ran towards her, tears uncontrollably rushed down her cheeks. She turned the maid over, only to find the young maiden was covered in stab wounds all across her torso. "Who did this to you?!" She shouted in agony, pulling the deceased into her arms as she cried, while cradling her friend.

"Y/N...." A voice cut through her cries and the nightmare does not end. "Y/N..." Just when she thought she had to suffer losing Natasha, she was met with the image of the God of the Sea, her beloved husband, her forever lover, laid on the sea stacks, blood emitting from the side of his mouth, his eyes losing their usual glow as he tried to call out to her. "RAFAYEL!" The princess cried, laying her friend down carefully onto the sand before she rushed over to Rafayel's side, stumbling her way up the sea stacks and having barnacles cutting into her skin. Yet again, her physical pain were not registered to her senses as of this moment. "RAFAYEL!" Her cries were unstoppable now, eyes turning bloodshot as she pulled her lover into her arms. "What happened?! I will go and get help..."

As she wanted to stand up to leave, Rafayel grabbed ahold of her hand and she regained the memory of the actual cause behind the happening.

...

The vision was murky but she could clearly hear a conversation taken place between two individuals. It seemed to take place within a cave, a female figure, with a singular eel-like tail and a merman, were having a talk. "If she remains untouchable, your kind shall perish." The feminine voice spoke, long, crooked fingers holding onto a round, translucent ball with spikes on it. She seemed to be studying the ball as she spoke. "Eradicating either one might be beneficial for you, as long as the heart is willing to be given."

"Does this mean I have to kill off the God? With my own hands?" The merman spoke, hesitation laced in his voice.

"Do not fret." The woman chanted a spell and a blue pearl appeared within her fingertips. "The mighty gem of Lemurians right? Infuse this with the crown that you would be making for her and the spell shall happen upon their kiss of rejoice, as husband and wife." She handed the blue pearl to the merman and added. "At least now, you won't get your hands dirty."

The merman kept the pearl in his pouch then placed a huge woven basket in front of the woman, a compensation of sorts for her 'service'. The merman turned to exit the caves and y/n gasped when she realised that the merman was Amund.

Her vision then flashed forward towards the moment when she wore the veil. Upon kissing Rafayel, she immediately got possesed by an unknown force, but an entity of evil origins. A dagger was summoned into her hands out of thin air and she stabbed Rafayel right in the heart with it. Y/n screamed out, but her voice was muted, playing the role of a bystander as the vision continued unfolding itself. The God of the Sea was taken aback as he had never thought he would be killed by his very own sworn lover.

His eyes looked into hers. Pupils blown out of the usual proportion before he spat out blood, splatters of it hitting her wedding gown and her face, but the possessed bride was unfazed. Merfolks were horrified as they hurriedly scattered into the seas. For an entity so evil that dares to challenge the God of the Sea, the merfolks know that they are powerless against this possessed individual, be it a mundane. So they chose to flee, hoping that the warrior amongst them, the longest friend of Rafayel's, would come to the rescue.

But Amund just stood by the shore, now in his human form, as he watched the blatant massacre happening right in front of him. A small smirk creeped up onto his face when he knew right then and there, the future of his people are secured. The foregone of a God shall mean one or two of the foretold endings. The princess willingly sacrifices herself to save Lemuria as she knew how much Lemurians mean to Rafayel. Or Amund shall dig the heart out of her if she chooses to be selfish. All with the end goal of him being viewed as the hero, salvaging Lemuria from its end days.

...

The vision ended, with y/n in shock, eyes staring blankly at Rafayel's body in her arms. The God of Sea finally letting his tears run astray, flowing down his cold and blanched face when his bride slowly came to her own realisation. The young god had once told his bride about the specialty of her heart, for he had given half of his heart to her when they made a promise during their first meet.

That moment, Rafayel summmoned a small blue fish within his palms, stating that blue fishes are emissaries of the sea, but he lied partially, knowing the moment she wanted to release him back into the ocean, he had fell in love with her and was sure that she will be the one. Hence, a bonding vow was made without her knowledge, and part of his heart was given to her as a contribution of his love.

The princess turned out to be the bait, the bait to kill Rafayel when he least expected it, just so Amund could gain the heart of either the God or the bride and to return glory to Lemuria. But Rafayel, although wanted to marry a mundane, had never once thought of abandoning his kind. His plan was to bring her to live with him within Lemuria, and with both of their hearts within the vicinity of one another, it could restore glory to Lemuria and no bloodshed would take place. And obviously, this plan was only known to the God of Sea himself. As a God only does what is best for his people and his actions shall reap what he sows.

"Im sorry!" Y/N's lips are only wired to speak these two words, body shaking and voice hoarse, mentally and physically pained, watching the dying God in front of her eyes. "I can't do this without you, Rafayel." Her hands cupped his cheeks, his blood painting her palms in red. "Please don't leave me..." She continued begging. "I could never forgive myself...Please don't go...."

"I am here...I will always be here..." The bride's cries would not stop, eyes avoiding his as she knew that he was stating the opposite of what he actually meant. Until her eyes landed on the dagger that was laid beside Rafayel. The same dagger that she had used to stab Rafayel in his heart, and the same dagger that Amund had used to kill Natasha as to eliminate any witnesses. Rafayel's eyes caught on eventually, but with him on the verge of death, he was physically unable to stop her.

He watched his bride, with eyes widened in terror while choking onto his own blood, trying to form words. "I love you." Were her last words before she stabbed herself with the dagger, right into her chest as well, where his and her heart lies. What comes afterwards was her choking and simultaneously spitting blood right out of her mouth, a sign of her haemorrhaging.

If nobody could take his heart, she shall not give up hers as well. A smile of relieve dawned on her face, the rosiness of her cheeks gradually fading as crimson tears replaced the redness of her cheeks. For she is a mundane, she could not hold on any longer like how Rafayel did, as it takes a while for a God to be fully bled dry.

Her whole body fell limply, like a puppet torn from its strings, and her face landed right in front of Rafayel, forehead touching his. The last breath the God of Sea took, was surrounded by the sounds of the clashing waves, basked within the warmth of the sunrise, his lifeless eyes stayed open, tear streaks are the only colours apparent on his pale face, just like his bride's.

...

Hundreds of years had passed. Linkon city's renowned museum held a grand exhibition, displaying all there is for one to know about the hidden city Lemuria, and its people, Lemurians. The exhibition featured paintings, artworks, artifacts and even 'theoretically-accurate' skeletal structures of the Lemurians. As this exhibition, does run on nothing factual but relying heavily on theories and legends arising from sea explorers.

Y/n held an information pamphlet in her hand, browsing the exhibition before she stopped at one of the large paintings with the title 'God of the Sea'. The painting featured a merman, a tail with two fins for the bottom half of his torso, while the upper is made of a man. Her eyes glanced over at the God of the Sea's face, a fish head that looked all too similar to a sardine fish.

"Don't you think this artwork is suspicious?" A voice travelled from beside her, the tone of the sentence laced with disgust. "In fact, I think this whole exhibition is a total scam." Y/n turned her head to face the source of the voice. A towering young man stood next to her, wearing a white V-neckline shirt and paired with a pair of black slacks and black dress shoes, his midriff secured with a wide belt. "What do you say?" He turned his head to face her, his dusky purple hair matching the shade of his purplish-pinkish-bluish eyes. A smile evidently plastered on his handsome features.

"Who are you to say that?" Y/n crossed her arms across her chest, raising her eyebrows.

"The name's Rafayel." He confidently spoke, eyes glinting with amusement. "Anyways, mind grabbing a cup of coffee with me?"

... DUN DUN DUN!

And this shall officially mark the end for the pain! The story although still had mentions of angst and still caused some evident damage to your hearts, but I made sure I shall give you guys a good ending okay! Do not confuse this timeline with Damnation and Retribution as those are coexisting with this current timeline. SO yes! If you paid enough attention the details, the sea stacks... the sea witch blah blah..... IT IS ALL INDIRECTLY CONNECTED (depending on how you piece it based on your understanding). But yes, my story is written in this specific manner because I purposely wanted the worlds to be connected!

I really really hope you guys had enjoyed this series as I shall be writing more series as such in the future, either with Zayne or Xavier so please stay tuned for that!

If you could, drop me comments on what you think about this story as well! Even if it hurts you, makes you wanna smack yourself (pls dont do that), or whether it leaves you unfazed, I am nosy and I wanna know how this series has affected you mentally! Check out my other works as well on my page!

Wardrobe Malfunction ft LNDS boys

You forgetting a date with the boys *gasps in horror*!

Thank you for reading this series of mine. LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCHIES, MUACKS <3

[judeisbae]

Just A Phone Call Away

In which: While Jude is away at camp in England, him and reader yearn for each other, their desires turning an innocent check-up call into something more. Warnings: Mutual masturbation, cursing, praise!kink, vocal Jude, mentions of semen.

"Love on me baby"

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 9:45

walking through the front door of your silent home, you sighed, dropping your purse onto the table that stood to the right as you entered. Today was one of the most stressful days at work you'd ever had. Pulling your phone from your pocket you see 4 missed calls and 6 texts from Jude, he had been away in England for international break. "fuck" you whispered under your breath. Jude had been frantically calling and texting you because you're usually home by around 5:30, giving him a call by no later than six. You text him back, explaining the situation and letting him know that you would be calling him immediately after you took a shower.

Making your way up the stairs you began carelessly stripping your clothes, leaving them scattered along the steps during your decent. Walking directly to your bathroom you turn on the shower water and turn around to look in the mirror as the water heats. You had missed Jude so much, you needed him on days like these, yes, it had never been something you enjoyed when he had to go away to camp, but today had just felt empty and dull without him, to avoid prolonging the amount of time he had to wait for your call, you headed into the shower. The warm water running down your back like a wave of relief, causing you to almost fall into a daydream like state, you wished your boyfriend had been here, to care for you, to hold you, to fuck you. Into your shower your ache for him began to grow, in different ways, your hands began to travel down your body, straying from your stomach, bringing them back up you cup your breasts, one in each hand, with nothing but Jude on your mind, his physique, his care, his patience, and most of all his skill when it came to pleasing you.

Stepping out of the shower you dry off and slip on a pair of panties and one of Jude's t-shirts. You settle yourself on your bed and grab your phone from the bedside table to call him. "Hi love" Jude's voice echoed through the phone, his smile audible. "Hi baby" you respond, nearly melting into the pillows from the comforting sound of his voice. "Tell me about your day love, let it off, I'm here to listen", something you admired about Jude, the way he was always willing, no matter how much you rambled or complained about nonsense, he still wanted to be there to listen to you and comfort you. "Js missed you babe" you respond with a sigh. The achy feeling between your legs returning.

Finding a random burst of confidence you interrupt Jude and asked "Are you alone?" "Yes love, why?", he knew why, he knew you better than the lines on his own hand, "I wanna do something" you whispered, the confidence you had just seconds ago, dwindling. "aww does my baby miss me, miss how I fuck her?" he teased at you "oh shut up" you whined, hands traveling down your body, to settle between your legs. "What'r you wearing love?" he asked, making note of your shaky breathing and hums of satisfaction. "Your shirt, and my red panties, the ones you bought me." you described. "take em off love," he said while shuffling to push his boxers down his hips, leaving him fully naked. "need you so bad baby" you sighed. "m'sorry my love, i'll be back home soon, n I'll fuck you good baby, just how you want it". His words going directly to your aching core,

Delving your fingers into your panties, you begin to imagine Jude on top of you, hands caressing your hips, fingers hooking the sides of your panties, removing them slowly. "Need you to come back baby" you whined into the phone, throwing your head back at the feeling of your fingers finally meeting your clit, your words drawing a deep moan from Judes lips. On the other end of the call, there he was, hand going up and down his cock, lingering slightly at his tip. You were all that was on his mind, the taste of you, your lips, your feel, and most of all, your wet cunt, always happy to take him.

Your fingers going lower to find your hole, and his fist swirling around his tip, pre cum leaking onto his hand. The two of you continue on, talking each other to your highs. As your stomach began to tighten, you cried out for Jude, like he was in the room with you "I know baby, I know" he moaned. "Im gonna fucking cum" you said in a strained voice, head thrown back against the pillows on your bed, legs spread with the phone pressed between your ear and shoulder, your other hand cupping your breast. "Cum with me baby" Jude replied breathlessly.

Biting down on your lip, you began pumping your fingers inside of yourself even faster, letting out breathless, whiney moans. Jude taking deep inhalations on the other end of the call, the two of you reaching your highs simultaneously, a moment of pure bliss.

"I really gotta get back soon now that I know how much you've been missing me huh baby?"

so sorry about how late this was I've been cooking all day 😀

[queensunshinee]

Time Of Our Lives || Part 16

Part 16:

Patrick heard Liana vomiting faintly and it made him jump out of bed. "Li, is everything okay?" he asked from outside the bathroom. "Everything's great, go back to sleep," she stammered, and he sighed. He went to the kitchen and filled a glass of water, entered the bathroom, and saw her sitting on the floor, holding her hair with one hand and gripping the edge of the toilet with the other, trying to steady herself.

"Hey, baby, it's okay. I got you," he mumbled, placing the glass on the sink and sitting down next to Liana, holding her hair in place and tracing gentle shapes on her shoulder. She was shaking from the effort as her free hand also moved to hold onto the toilet.

"Sorry I woke you," she mumbled after a few minutes, not moving her head out of fear of vomiting again. "Don't be silly, is it something you ate?" he asked. His eyebrows furrowed as he handed her the water. "There was only regular milk at work, I probably drank one cup of coffee too many yesterday," she mumbled, and as soon as she finished speaking, she vomited again, and they found themselves in the same position.

"Come on," after a few minutes of this, he helped her get up from the floor. Patrick spread toothpaste on her toothbrush and put it in her mouth, starting to move it side to side. Liana could cry. She felt the tears gathering at the back of her eyes, in moments like these she remembers how gentle and sensitive Patrick can be. If he only wants to, if he cares enough.

He stood in the bathroom while she showered and didn't take his eyes off her, not in a sexual way but out of genuine concern. Because at the end of the day, Patrick loves her, even if sometimes he doesn't know how to show it.

"Shall we go back to sleep?" he asked hopefully. "There's no point, I feel better and in half an hour, I would've had to get up anyway," she shrugged as he handed her a towel. "Li, maybe you should stay home today?" he asked, even though he knew the answer. "I'm on a schedule and in a few days, the construction starts, I need to get there to fix some drawings. If I'm lucky, I might be able to leave earlier," she smiled at him. "I don't know..." he tried to protest. Just ten minutes ago, she was shaking in his hands, and now he has to let her get dressed and leave the house. "I'm fine Pat, really. I'll drink tea today, and I'll be okay," she gave him a small kiss on the lips and left the bathroom, concluding the conversation.

"Then there must be a pillar here, otherwise the whole thing will collapse, and we didn't draw it in the sketch." Art heard Liana's voice from afar, like an echo. He automatically found himself walking towards her, because that's why Art came. He didn't really care about the construction schedule; as far as he was concerned, the longer this thing took, the more time he had to come and see her work. An excuse to be close without being creepy.

"Hey," he gave a small wave, keeping his distance from her conversation but letting her know he was there. "Mr. Donaldson," she mumbled, and so did the guy working with her. Art could say that nothing happens in his body when she calls him 'Mr. Donaldson'. That formality in front of people doesn't affect him at all. It doesn't send a little shiver through him. No memories surface, and he certainly doesn't imagine that one day she might be 'Mrs. Donaldson'. He could say all that, but he tries not to lie too much.

"Miss Levy," he returned a toothy smile, and she walked towards him. "Why are you here?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Where? On the land I bought?" he was amused. Now that she was closer, he could examine her. He wondered if he would ever get used to the fact that she needed glasses now when she worked. Or the small wrinkle that formed on the side of her mouth from the number of times she smiled and laughed. He wished it was because of him. Too many times he thinks about the number of things he could tell her that would make her laugh enough to deepen that wrinkle.

"You look... green." he mumbled after a few seconds. She was pale, even for her. "It's January, I turn green in January." she retorted. "Liana." he tried a more official tone, a bit more concerned. "I'm fine, Arthur, let it go. Can I ask a favor?" she asked, looking at him with big eyes. Making him raise an eyebrow. There are very few things Liana could ask of him that he wouldn't agree to do. She must know that by now. "Always." he said quicker than his ego was happy to hear. "Can you give me Tashi's number?" she asked and saw his surprised look. "Why? Are you trying to steal my coach for your lazy boyfriend?" he asked, feigning amusement. He didn't understand the endgame of this move. Overall, he didn't understand what Liana had to talk about with Tashi; Liana hates tennis, and from what Art knows, Tashi enjoys talking mostly about tennis. "don't call Patrick lazy, can you give it to me or not?" she didn't answer him. "Will it hurt my interests?" he asked, pulling out his phone. "I would never do that, Art." she sighed, and he sent her the number. There are very few things Art Donaldson wouldn't give to Liana Levy.

Liana waved for a second when she saw Tashi entering the café where they had agreed to meet. She couldn't help but feel tense and wondered how to calm her jittery leg. Why couldn't she just act like a normal person and be more…cool.

"Hey, Liana, what's up? Sorry if I'm late." Tashi was a bit confused. A bit was an understatement. Tashi was very confused. 'Hey, it's Liana, if you have free time, I'd really appreciate it if we could meet' was the message she received yesterday, and that's how she found herself in a café, sitting in front of the girl Art has been trying to fuck without success for God knows how long. Tashi couldn't help but wonder what Art's tennis would look like if he succeeded.

"All good. I'm early." Liana smiled. "Do you want to order something to eat?" she asked, and Tashi waved at the waiter, asking for coffee. Her energy was businesslike. Always in a hurry. Always busy. It didn't matter that she came from the rain. It didn't matter if she was cold or hot. She had no time to waste. "What's up, Liana?" Tashi asked after a few more minutes of awkward silence. "Is this about Art?" she added. "No... Art's not involved." she answered too quickly. Why did she answer so quickly? "So how can I help you?" she asked, taking a sip of the coffee that had just arrived.

"I don't have many friends here." Liana took a deep breath. She knew how it sounded. Desperate and pathetic. But she had no choice. She really didn't know who to talk to. "So... you want me to?" Tashi looked horrified for a moment. Not understanding what situation she had gotten into. "God, no." Liana's eyes widened. "Can you stop with the leg? It's driving me crazy." Tashi said. All the chaotic energy Liana was emitting didn't suit her. It almost threw her off balance.

"I'm pregnant." Liana said quietly right after she took a sip of her tea. She examined Tashi, who looked back at her. "Patrick?" Tashi asked, and Liana looked at her horrified. "Of course it's Patrick's. Whose else?!" she defended herself. "So, congratulations, I guess?" Tashi still didn't understand why she was there. Why her time was being wasted with news about her ex from years ago. If it's not Art's child, if it doesn't become Tashi's problem, why bother filling her brain with this unnecessary information.

"No. I don't want this." Liana said, and Tashi couldn't hide her surprise. "I'm Sorry, what?" she couldn't stop herself. "It was a mistake. I'm on the pill, and I really don't know how it happened. I need to stop this..." Liana mumbled. It wasn't coherent, but Tashi understood every word. "You've been together for years, Liana, I don't understand..." Tashi tried to be more sensitive. "It's just not the right time. We need more stability, and bringing a child into something like this is just not fair." she said, looking at her for a change.

"I would go alone, but I need someone to be listed as an escort," she averted her gaze as she said it. Ashamed of what she was asking from the girl in front of her, a complete stranger in her life, yet the only one she could think of. "Patrick?" Tashi asked quietly. "He doesn't know." Liana's eyes filled with tears. "Please-" she had been thinking about this monologue from the moment she found out, three days ago. "Okay" there was no need. Tashi answered immediately. "Okay, I'll go with you." she smiled the most genuine smile she had to offer.  "Thank you." they both took a sip of their drinks.  The rain outside intensified.

When Liana entered the house, Patrick was in the kitchen, and she quietly leaned on the doorframe, watching him while he wasn't looking. Thinking about what she was going to do tomorrow. Knowing it's for their own good. He wouldn't understand if she told him. He wouldn't understand, and he would want to keep it, and neither of them could raise a child right now. She knows that. She knows he will hate her no matter what she decides tomorrow. If he finds out, he will feel trapped. He will feel like she has ruined his life. Again. Little by little. Each time draining him of the last drop of joy left in him. The last drop of youth.

"Are you just staring now? Not saying hello?" he asked, amused. He had felt her gaze on him for a few minutes. "Hey," she approached him and hugged him from behind. Leaning on his shoulder and closing her eyes. "Hey, Lilo," he was confused. Not understanding the sudden closeness. The last few days had been strange, to say the least. Liana and Patrick hadn't fought even once. She hadn't been feeling well, and he mostly tried not to bother her with his presence. He was afraid of making her feel even worse than she already did, and the more he distanced himself, the closer she got. The more space he gave her, the more she sought touch.

"What are you making?" she asked quietly, not moving an inch, still with her eyes closed. "I'm pretty useless, but I called your mom, and she gave me a recipe for the soup you like," he said quietly. "You called my mom?" she asked in a half-broken voice. "You haven't been well for a few days, Lilo. I wanted to make something that would make you feel good," their gazes met.

Liana started crying, and Patrick panicked. These weren't just tears welling up in her eyes but real crying with her hands on her face. "Hey, hey, Liana. What's going on?" he gently took her hands off her face, revealing how red she had become in those seconds, how sad she was. His hug was comforting. More comforting than anything she had felt recently. "I'm such a bitch. Really," she mumbled. "Lilo, you're the kindest person I know," he chuckled above her head, tracing small shapes on her shoulder while gently rocking her, trying to soothe her in any way he could.

"I really love you. You know that, right?" she pulled away from him for a second and studied him. "Of course, I know," he replied, "I don't understand what's going on, Lil. I need you to talk to me." He was half-lost, not understanding what he did or what she did that led to this situation. "I don't say it enough, but I really love you, Patrick. More than I love most people in the world," she said again, unable to stop the tears. "I know. I really know," he replied, hugging her once more, not letting her slip away from him. "You're okay. Whatever it is, we're okay," he said, and she nodded into him.

Liana also thinks that most of the time, they are okay.

The months that passed were more of the same. Liana worked on Art's house, meeting with him once or twice a week to show him the project's progress. Every time he tried to have a conversation beyond professional matters, Liana cut him off. She owed that to Patrick. She owed it to herself and Patrick to be okay. She couldn't let herself betray him emotionally with someone who, the moment he had a hold on her emotions, her entire system would recalibrate around him again.

The calm dynamic between Liana and Patrick lasted exactly two weeks. Liana was quite sure they didn’t know how to manage without fighting to the point where she wanted to smash a plate against the wall. Sometimes they went to bed without exchanging a single word, and those were the days it was hardest for her to be near him. Those were the days she also canceled meetings with Art because Patrick made her so angry she became indifferent. And indifference leads to mistakes. She knew that. She had seen it up close.

Now, with both Art and Patrick participating in the tournament in Atlanta, Liana found herself ordering coffee and soda at the hotel bar while opening her laptop, hoping to tie up some loose ends before sitting down with Art for a few minutes tomorrow. "Hey, Liana," she heard Tashi’s voice from behind. They hadn’t been in touch since that time, when Tashi went with her. But Liana had a soft spot for the woman in front of her. She used to be so afraid of her once, trembling when exchanging more than a word with her. Today she thought she and Tashi saw each other with flaws and strengths. Sometimes Liana didn’t know what her strengths were, but she always knew Tashi’s.

"Hey," she smiled at her. "Mind if I sit for a bit while I wait for my order for Art and me?" she asked. "Is he sending you to fetch orders now?" Liana raised an eyebrow. It was uncharacteristic. "Actually, no, I saw you from afar and didn’t want his mind to be distracted." Tashi said, and Liana rolled her eyes, wanting to say something. "There’s no way I could distract him right now. Not before I finish working, nothing to talk to him about" she said, and Tashi rolled her eyes and chuckled. Liana wasn’t entirely sure if something was happening between Tashi and Art. It wasn’t her place to ask him, she wasn’t in contact with Tashi, and her parents hadn’t told her anything special as gossip as they usually did about his life. Maybe it was just friendly, and she was purely his coach, but Liana didn’t want to be in the middle of it. She wasn’t going to disrupt Art’s happiness. She was with Patrick. Most of the time, she was happy with Patrick.

"Has he ever shown you his necklace?" Tashi asked. "Excuse me?" Liana was confused. "Art, has he ever shown you his necklace?" she asked again, slower, like speaking to a child. "No, I never asked, and it’s always under his shirt," Liana shrugged as Tashi took her order. "He’s such a pussy," she shook her head from side to side, chuckling. "So dominant on the court and yet, such a coward. Unbelievable. Good to see you, send my regards to Patrick," she smiled and walked toward the exit, not giving Liana a chance to respond.

Art was terrified. He was bored, so he went down to the lobby half an hour before the time he had arranged with Liana. He was so happy he could see her in person and knowing she was also in Atlanta, that he didn’t care the only reason they were meeting was to talk about the house. But now he felt the air leave his lungs. He saw Tashi and Patrick. Holding hands. Like that. In the fucking lobby. And while Tashi didn’t owe anyone anything, Patrick owed Liana. And Art was supposed to be happy because he understood what was happening. It was Patrick. No matter how much time passed, he knew Patrick.

When he returned his gaze to where they had been sitting, after giving someone an autograph, they were gone. His heart was beating faster than usual. He felt like crying. He was supposed to be happy, but all he could think about was Liana’s face and that he was about to be someone who told her something that would make her cry. Again. He swore to himself he'd never make her cry again, but he was about to. And he hated it.

"Donaldson," she smiled at him, causing him to jump in his chair. "How did you get so startled, you were practically looking at me," she rolled her eyes, and he smiled at her. "What’s wrong?" she asked. His smile was fake. Liana hated that she could still tell if his smile was fake. "Nothing, just thoughts about the tournament." he said. "You crushed your competitor today, you’ll be fine." she rolled her eyes. "Mind if I order some wine? It’ll help me sleep." she added. He didn’t know she liked to drink wine. "Of course. I would order some too, but, you know." he replied, somewhat pleased she was allowing herself to relax a bit around him. It took her only a year.

"So, I’ll show you a few things and then let you go." she said, sipping her wine, and he nodded. "Hit me." "Question, while the computer loads." she said, and he looked at her. Liana hated how his green hoodie made the bright blue of his eyes stand out. She had never seen so many shades of blue as when she looked closely at Art Donaldson’s eyes.

"Talk to me." he leaned on his elbow, not taking his eyes off her. A little reveling in the moment. A little afraid to ruin it. A little wanting to ruin it. Because the voice in his head told him he had to tell her. Liana had to know. She deserved to know. Art deserved a chance. He would never do this to her.

"What’s the story with your necklace?" she asked, and he raised an eyebrow, quickly running a hand over the back of his neck. "There’s no story." he answered too quickly. He wanted to punch himself for it. "Arthur. Come on, what’s the deal, you didn’t wear a necklace when we were kids. Is it a gift from someone?" she asked. "Are you keeping track of my jewelry, Liana? Be careful, I might think you care about me more than you let on." he knew it would make her change the subject. He wouldn’t tell, but the blush on her cheeks and the big sip she took from her wine only made the conversation better.

"This is the final plan. They started the interior construction two days ago." she showed him a diagram on the computer, moving a bit closer to him. Close enough for her scent to hit him like a slap in the face. He wanted to dive into that closeness. To reach out. To tell her and immediately promise everything would be okay. That he would be there to pick up the pieces. He knew he could.

"I saw Patrick and Tashi earlier." he said quietly, almost in a whisper. Not taking his eyes off her. "Oh, I didn’t know they were in touch..." Liana said, not moving her eyes from the computer. "Liana," he sighed. He hoped she would understand from the previous sentence. That he wouldn’t have to say it. "What?" she looked at him and chuckled, but her smile quickly faded when she saw his expression, "Just say what you have to say, Donaldson." she said with an uncharacteristic coldness.

She knew Art too well. Every time she tried to deny it, she could precisely recognize a look he gave or a joke that no one around understood. She knew how to tell by his walking pace to a construction site if he had a good practice or if he was tired. She knew who he was at his core. And more than anything, she knew how he looked when he was about to break her heart.

"They were holding hands and then disappeared from my sight," he sighed, breathing heavily. He said it in a whisper, almost not wanting to say what had been weighing on him. "Oh." she drank all that was left of her wine in one gulp and signaled the waiter she wanted another glass, returning her gaze to the computer. "I need to finish a few things, and I believe we can wrap everything up in two months. After that, you’ll need to work with an interior designer-" "Liana." Art interrupted her and placed his hand on hers, giving it a slight squeeze. This made her move her hand to her leg.

Without realizing it, tears welled up in her eyes, and the waiter who brought her wine hurried away from the table as fast as he arrived. "Talk to me, please." he was desperate to know what was going through her mind. "It’s okay, it’s whatever," she shrugged and looked at him indifferently, letting one of her tears fall.

"Liana." he sighed. "How is it okay? He’s cheating on you." Art wanted to raise his voice. He wasn’t mad at her. He was mad at Patrick. He was mad at the circumstances. He was mad at himself. "I know what holding hands and disappearing with Tashi Duncan means for someone like Patrick, Art. Contrary to what you think, I’m not stupid." her words were almost venomous, but he knew she wasn’t lashing out at him. He knew he was the closest person right now. He was ready to take it.

"What do you think is happening here?" she asked, taking another big sip of wine. "That I’ll hear about Tashi and Patrick and go up to your room so you can fuck me until I forget all my problems?" she asked, and he almost choked on his own spit. He didn’t expect her to be so blunt. That sentence showed how long she’d been in a relationship with Patrick. He spoke through her.

"No, Liana." he sighed again. Running his hand over the back of his neck once more but this time leaving it there a little longer. "I’m content in my relationship. Shit happens." she finished the second glass in one go and closed the laptop, ready to leave. "Shit happens? How many times has it already happened, Liana?" he couldn’t believe the level of indifference. He wanted to shake her so hard that her brain would reset and go back to the beginning. To reboot her self-respect that had clearly been trampled on more than once.

"Bye Art, good luck tomorrow." she muttered and turned. This time his grip on her hand was firm above the table. She wouldn’t be able to move him. Not now. "You’re making a scene." she whispered. He couldn’t help but think about the power dynamics between them now that she was standing and he was sitting, but he was holding her. She couldn’t move as long as he was holding her. And if it were up to him, he would hold her forever.

"Look. Here." he did the only thing he could think of and pulled the pendant of the necklace over his shirt. Seeing her breath catch for a moment. "Is that...?" She couldn't find the words and automatically moved her free hand over the metal. "Yes." He whispered. His grip loosened, and he let his fingers intertwine with hers over the table without her pulling away. "Why?" She murmured, not stopping her hand from moving over the pendant, her dorm key. The key he refused to return to her time and again. Hanging around his neck. "You know why." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Why?" She asked again. Not letting go. She had to hold on to something, and he knew that if he wanted to give her a moment of peace, even if not for himself—because for himself, he would have chosen another way to tell her, to show her—that all these years, she had been his good luck charm, even from afar. Right now, she was the only one who mattered. Only succeeding in changing the way she looked at herself and what she thought she deserved. "Because I’m yours. I’ve always been only yours."

Oh my god!!! I hope it wasn't too long. I feel like so much has happened in this part, but we are finally in Atlanta. What are you thinking guys? We've got a bit more Tashi on this one. I love hearing from you, so talk to me. Thanks for still reading and commenting. It means the actual world. 

taglist: @soberbabes @nina357 @lamoursansfin @marley1773 @ruyaas-world @apolloscastellan @primlovesdilfs @fangirl-kimora @serenadingtigers @imbabycowboy @do-it-for-kicks @izzywags478 @4deline08 @igotmajordaddyissues @jackierose902109 @ganana @yoitsme-04 @swetearss

[leafirefly]

" I knew the angel you were…"

Drawing these two is extremely comforting.

I wish I could thank Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett for writing this book, and creating this show. Will surely manage the courage to send an ask to Neil to thank him one day! For now I’ll keep drawing them, as I enjoy it a lot.

It’s funny how Aziraphale always protected Crowley from water (rain/holy water at the end of S1), and Crowley protected Aziraphale from fire (the falling stars/hellfire).

Tumblr ate the quality a little so don’t hesitate to click on it to see it better

[god-complex-12]

Atychiphobia II

— Paring; Cpt. John Price x male reader. Fandom; Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II

Atychiphobia: (n.) fear of failure; fear of not being good enough

Quote; “When you repent, you make a promise to turn away from the sin… abandon it. But, Jonathan… you are my sin, and I am incapable of abandoning my love for you.”

Disclaimer; Mention of religion. Reader is an Angel. Religious based. Christianity. Talks of sinning. Reader is a fallen Angel. Descriptions of pain and blood. Not an accurate representation of Christianity. God is referred to as “father” and is depicted as slightly cruel. Kissing. Crying. Praying. Begging for forgiveness. Religious trauma. Tending to wounds. Reader is in the bath. John helps Y/N in the bath.

Word Count: 1.0k

Masterlist; part I

A/N: Please note that I do not believe this is how God truly is, this is for the sake of entertainment purposes only.

John is speechless as he stares at the torn and bloodied skin of his comrade. It’s revolting. Though this is nowhere near the worst John has ever seen, what brings him to a shake is what used to be in its place. Wings? No, that couldn’t be possible. Y/N had never had wings. Heaven and hell existed? John isn’t sure if that was something he wished was confirmed. He’s damned. But so is Y/N. Damned because of him, perhaps.

John gently poured the disinfectant onto the massive wounds. Y/N shuddered and sobbed. He wasn’t used to pain. Suddenly he felt unmeasurably weak. He’s mortal. This wasn’t fair. Since when was love a sin? And why was the punishment so cruel? Y/N’s fists balled, and his jaw clenched.

“Relax.” John whispered in the softest voice his gruff voice could manage. “It’ll pass.” He gently washed the dry blood from Y/N’s back. The warm water stung horribly, making Y/N tremble more. He sobbed silently into his hands. John was overwhelmed, but he didn’t let that stop him from taking care of the now man in front of him.

John dried his hands off on the towel next to him. He heard Y/N begin to whisper as he opened the box of medical supplies next to him. He knew what he was doing. “Y/N, stop.” He said sternly. However, Y/N did not stop. He continued to whisper to himself like a mad man. Whispering what, both of them knew, was a prayer that would fall on deaf ears. “Shh,” John shushed, “please.” He ran his hand over Y/N’s bare shoulder, he gently pushed the fallen angel a bit forward to gain better access to his wounds.

Padding the area with a cloth, Y/N made a pained noise and began praying more vigorously. John dried the area, and he wrapped Y/N’s torso in plaster. “He forgives all,” John whispered, “but why not you?” He pulled the sobbing soldier back towards him.

“Because I can’t seem to make a change.” He wiped his useless tears, getting a handful of water and drawing his flushed face. His voice trembles, as does his body. “When you repent, you make a promise to turn away from the sin… abandon it. But, Jonathan… you are my sin, and I am incapable of abandoning my love for you.”

“Your holy position is more important than man’s attention, is it not?”

“No.” Y/N said firmly. “Not when that man is you. I am a disgrace for committing the blasphemous act of loving one more than my creator. Not only have I chosen man over God, but I have committed a sacrilege act in allowing lust to cloud my faith.”

“Lust?” John questioned. “Do you mean this is all just lust?”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and he spun around, water sloshing over the side of the tub. His wet hands grab John’s knee in an act of desperation. “No, no. This is love. I love you more than anything, and that is a problem. I am referring to the time we’ve gone farther than just touching hands. That was lust.”

“Was it?” John asked, his hand gently trailing up the side of the Fallen Angel’s neck, pushing around the wet strands of hair that clung to Y/N’s skin. “Because I didn’t sleep with you for the sake of your body.” He leaned closer. “I did it for the sake of love. The passion. I hold myself back, so when it happens, it feels even better.”

“That is why we are supposed to wait till marriage bonds us, though even then, Father would not be accepting of devious acts unless it is to reproduce… which I am unable to do either with man or woman.”

“This isn’t about his rules. This is about you and me. I don’t care about his incorrect judgment, and neither should you. His judgment only brought you immense pain. Should you still speak highly of a God who causes you only suffering?”

Y/N was stunned for a moment, stumbling to find the right words, but the pain, overwhelming reality, the closeness of their lips, it made his mind bug out. “I- He did not only cause me suffering. He has also given me life!” He sat on his knees. “If not for his orders, we would have never met!”

“Then why does he punish you when he was the one who caused us to love?” A silence engulfs them. Y/N is speechless, and he feels his breath quicken with each passing second. It’s all too much. His chest feels heavy, and he feels as though someone had covered his face with a pillow and watched him squirm around for a pocket of air. “Let us love without him, Y/N. Let me love you.”

“Okay,” Y/N whispered, almost inaudibly.

Suddenly, John’s lips find Y/N’s, leaning down in his seat as he kisses Y/N with a tenderness he’s never held before. John can help but keep leaning forward, if not for his own gear, he would just go ahead and get in the bath as well.

[cheesecakezyum]

HII;!! (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)/ I'm not sure if you'll take this but can I request a Sun Wukong ofcourze :) where MK and the gang are stalking him cause he's acting weird but is actually just happy his s/o is back from their travels and he's all lovey-dovey over them thank you! (Not a one shot but over all just headcanons plzz ☺️)

Hello there anon! Thank you for such a cute request <3

While I do love my headcanons I hope you don’t mind a bit of predetermined context as to why the reader left at first!

Missed you more than you know.

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♡ - It’s not like you wanted to leave your friends (Leaning more towards found family at this point really), but you wanted to pursue your own goals! And he— well, your lover.. Couldn’t just up and leave with you. He had to attend to his own duties as a mentor!

♡ - Since you were little, you’ve always wanted to travel. You were an artist, and your goal was to draw as much fauna as you could in your quite short life. Wukong had helped you a ton— especially while he was courting you! His gifts were often messily put together flowers and saplings, right at your window! At some point, your small apartment was your own personal nursery.

♡ - But he couldn’t just give everything to you and call your dreams off. You wanted to actually see fauna thriving under the hands of Mother Nature! To not just sketch the specimen but the surroundings as well, the wildlife. You grew warm and fuzzy just thinking of it.

♡ - So after a full year of preparation, you had finally taken your long awaited leave in pursuit of your dreams; Giving your simian one last kiss, you bid him goodbye. The way in which his tail was securely wrapped around your wrist slowly softened in defeat as you turned away.

You knew that if you looked back, you’d never be able to leave.

♡ - Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Romania, Italy, Croatia— and so many other destinations had been just what you’ve been dreaming of. Europe was just as beautiful as you’ve read! If not more so. And one sketchbook had grown to 3, 4 if you cared to count the pages which were half filled.

♡ - And every night (At least every night where he wasn’t busy himself), Wukong would telepathically communicate with you! You just called it spiritual face time and chose to call it a day.

♡ - While you’d ramble about whatever interesting interactions or discoveries you’ve made, Wukong would keep you updated on how everyone was doing. An improvement in MK’s technique, Mei fixing up a new scooter she had found, etc.

♡ - And every night, after you’ve wished each other good night— he’d never forget to mention just how empty flower fruit mountain felt without you.

“I love you,”

“I miss you more every day you’re gone,”

“Your warmth, that laugh, the way your cheeks brighten at my cheesy comments.”

“I wish you were here with me right now. Heh, everyone does.”

♡ - After what felt like an eternity; you were more than satisfied with your work and began heading home! You couldn’t wait to tell him in person everything you’ve accomplished, and just how satisfied you were with your numerous sketches, watercolors, and inked works you’d soon frame all over your abode in remembrance.

♡ - Walking into your apartment for the first time in ages made your heart soar the minute you saw what surrounded you.

Your flowers, shrubbery, and plants had all been taken care of to near perfection. Not a single vine or leaf had wilted since your departure.

♡ - Your partner had tenderly cared for each of your greenery with such pristine care that you thought they even looked better than they had before— blooming bright and beautifully even when it wasn’t in season.

♡ - It seemed like you weren’t alone in the apartment as well, turning your head to see the Monkey King himself finishing up watering your pitcher plants.

♡ - And making eye contact, you noticed the way his jaw hung slack— as if he was being delusional and you were simply a figment of his imagination.

—

“Hey, hey, don’t overwater it! It’s spilling all over the floor!” You had urgently exclaimed, rushing over to snatch the watering can from his gentle hold and place it on a flat surface.

(It was a ceramic white duck, by far one of your favorites out of the many which were just stashed away in your closet.)

A puddle seemed to have already been made in between you two— but you couldn’t help but giggle in his obvious stupor.

Wukong’s voice was seemingly breathless, speaking in almost a whisper.

“You’re back, for real?”

Before you could even muster a response, you found yourself lifted in the air— then back in his loving embrace.

“I am, Wukong. I’m back.”

—

♡ - A week had passed, and within it you were more than happy to tell him and everyone else about your travels / experiences. It was practically expected— being gone for so long only leaving so much room for stories to tell.

♡ - What wasn’t expected, however, was the absolute clinginess of Wukong since your return. He hadn’t left your side once if it was in his control. Training and personal duties aside, you never spent more than 10 minutes of free time without being interrupted by his boisterous nature.

“Honey, I’m home!”

♡ - Once, you had to go into the shopping district for produce. The fruits had seemed especially delicious! You couldn’t leave without your mate however, as he had chosen to shape himself into a butterfly just to inspect what you were buying. Totally just that, not like it was anything else!

♡ - You’ve even caught MK and Mei sneaking around you at times where you thought it was just you and Wukong. Not that you could blame them, though. Anyone would be interested if they knew the great sage couldn’t get enough of you, being around you, all that mumbo jumbo.

♡ - Nights were spent either in your own bedroom or on the floor of his shack, coddled by both him and the many other monkeys which called Flower Fruit Mountain your home.

—

It was the same as always; tail curled around you ankle, an arm snaked around your waist and his soft breathing muffled into your hair.

You whispered into the darkness of your room—

“Did you really miss me that much?”

You didn’t expect an answer so quick to come from his mouth.

“More than you know.”

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EEEE IT FEELS GOOD TO WRITE AGAIN! Besides planning of course. I hope you enjoyed!

[widowmaxff]

I’ve been having some bad days, could you write something where Y/N is having a rough week and pretends she’s fine except Wanda knows her daughter and comforts her?

I just love the way you write Wanda as a mother and that she just always knows

overwhelmed

pairings: mom!wanda maximoff × fem!reader

warnings: angst, reader crying, depressed reader — i think that's all!

a/n: tysm for your request love and im so sorry for your bad days, i really hope things get better for you and if you need someone to talk you can dm me, okay? <33

Interacting with any other human being was the last thing you wanted to do today. Saying that you had a bad week was an understatement, all the bad things that could happen to you happened. And not just things around you, but also your mind didn't stop for a second. You felt so overwhelmed that anyone could see on your face how much that week was hurting you.

"This can't be happening right now." You mumble as you feel the raindrops start to fall on your head. There was still more than half the way until you arrived at the Compound, you didn't have an umbrella, much less a coat to protect yourself from the cold that would come. No one could come and get you since everyone was busy and you didn't want to disturb your mother, she had enough problems to deal with yours.

You were coming home from school after another stressful day. You've spent the last few weeks studying for an incredibly difficult test, especially in a subject you had difficulty with, and seeing that big red note made your urge to cry even more. You studied so much that you thought it was impossible for that to happen. So many nights without having slept and so many energy drinks wasted for nothing.

You were absolutely soaked when you stepped into the Compound. Your sneakers made a funny noise when you stepped on them, but the only thing you wanted to do now was take them off your feet and throw them at the person closest to you, shouting in their face. "You're going to clean this up, Little Maximoff." Tony's annoying voice says, obviously joking, but still your head hurt just hearing that you had to do something that day. Your jaw tightens and you close your eyes tightly, taking a deep breath.

"I know, Tony." You ramble, trying to keep your voice as calm as possible. You walk past him to head towards your room, feeling your eyes burn from having something else on your list of things that made your week worse than it already was.

On normal days the first thing you would do was go look for your mother in her office, but the last thing you wanted to do that day was worry her, because you knew that the moment she laid eyes on you she would know that something was wrong. And filling her with your problems would make you feel guilty for a long time, you hated making people feel sorry for you and looking like you were a baby. You just needed to calm down, didn't you?

"Fuck!" You scream when you see all your notebooks soaked, especially your sketchbook, which you spent hours and hours drawing. You drop your things on the floor and run your hands through your hair, taking a deep breath. You wished your mother was there now, she would know what to do and help you with whatever you needed to calm down, but you put that idea out of your head before you ran towards her arms.

You enter the bathroom connected to your room and take off your clothes before you catch a cold. The hot water from the shower makes your muscles finally relax after the terrible days you prayed would end. In a few seconds you no longer knew what water was or what the tears on your face were. All those things that happened in your week came together into one, and you started to feel like you were on that empty, dark hole that took you a long time to get out of. You thought that maybe the problem was you, that maybe you deserved all those bad things, from the smallest to the ones that made you cry and scream like that moment.

You didn't hear the knock on your door because your bad thoughts were so loud that it was almost impossible to even hear the shower water hitting the floor. But when Wanda entered her room after hearing no response, she felt like something was wrong at the moment. She looks at your completely wet things lying on the floor and frowns. You told your mom you didn't need a ride home from school, but apparently, you did.

"Honey, is everything okay?" When she heard the shower turning off after long minutes, she knocked on the bathroom door just to let you know she was there and see if everything was okay. "Yeah, I'll be out in a minute." You say in a low voice, taking a deep breath. You knew that the moment you left the bathroom, your mother would know that your bad thoughts came back again, but you also knew that she wouldn't pressure you to say anything.

You close the bathroom door quietly, finally looking into Wanda's green eyes and seeing the worry through them. She held your backpack in her hands with her face confused at you, because she wouldn't think twice to get in the car and drive to you. "I was almost here at the Compound and the rain caught me." You chuckled, trying to hide your red eyes, your cheeks and the tip of your nose with the same color as your mother's hair.

"Are you okay, love?" She asks again, her face relaxed now. You put a fake smile on your face, but still with enormous affection for your mother.

"Yeah, just a little upset that my sketchbook got ruined, but it's okay." You don't completely lie. Yes, you were upset that your drawings would now have to go in the trash, but no, nothing was okay.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Wanda says approaching you. You just throw it away, muttering 'it's okay' but she wraps her arms around you, giving you a relaxing hug. Your mother leaves a long kiss on your head, making the urge to cry increase even more. You loved all the affectionate actions that your mother gave you, it made you feel so vulnerable and light. "Come on, let's get you something to eat, shall we?" You didn't like eating when you were feeling bad like that, you felt like you were going to throw up when you put anything in your stomach because of the anxiety, but you just agreed.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even notice when you arrived in the kitchen which, unfortunately, was made up of a few people. You felt so overwhelmed that being in the same environment as some people made you feel even worse. The small group of Avengers on your left irritated you. The loud noises they made. The conversations. The sound of people swallowing food. The tapping of Steve's shoe on the floor. Everything irritated you. From the small scratches on the counter to the farthest lamp that blinked every one minute and two seconds. Wanda noticed that. She noticed that you were itching to keep from freaking out. That you closed your eyes tightly trying to ignore your surroundings. That she needed to do something to help. She wanted to come to you and ask what intrigued you so much. What made you take deep breaths and crack your fingers every second was curious.

"Thank you, momma." She almost didn't hear you because of your low and hoarse voice. Wanda leaves a kiss on your head as she watches your foot bouncing up and down, eating the sandwich she made.

Wanda debated in her head what she could do to make you feel better. She knew she couldn't pressure you into saying anything, but she was so worried that she would do anything to see you well again. And even if it got to the point where she had to read your mind, she couldn't. You somehow managed to block your mother from reading your thoughts and seeing what was wrong.

You place your plate in the sink, taking a deep breath. Finally you would get away from people and that feeling of anxiety would finally leave you, that's what you thought. You thought that just a few hours of lying in bed doing nothing would solve your problems, but deep down, you knew that wasn't what would happen. And, now walking towards your room, not even your plan of closing yourself under the covers would be complete, as your mother followed you with the comfortable atmosphere that she always exuded.

You lie in your bed watching your mother calmly wait for your permission to lie down next to you. You nod to her with a smile on your face. Wanda puts her arms around your body, running her hand on your back, making your body relax. You loved these moments between the two of you, you realized how important you are to her and how loved you are. "You know you can always talk to me, don't you?" She murmurs, making you lean into her even more. Your face was in the crook of her neck, hiding how your lip trembled trying to hold back your crying. "I love you so much, sweetheart."

You finally let out a sob when Wanda murmurs those words that came out of her mouth so sweetly. Her grip around you tightens as she feels tears fall onto the skin of her neck, leaving a kiss on your head. The caress on your back never stopped, reassuring you that you were safe in your mother's arms. "It's okay, baby. Everything's going to be okay." You hated crying out loud, but at that moment you couldn't control all those feelings that made your heart ache spilling across your face, and Wanda was there to remind you that it was okay to cry and feel that way. "I-I'm sorry."

"Honey... we never apologize because of our emotions, right? Never." Wanda pulls you to place you on her lap, making you lay your head on her chest. You start playing with the hem of your mother's shirt, sniffling as you try to think of words you could say to her. "Do you want to talk about it, детка?"

"It was just... a bad week." You murmur, snuggling even closer to Wanda, feeling her heartbeat in your ear, which made you calm down a little more. "I just- I'm just feeling so overwhelmed and... and I don't know what to do."

"Oh, baby... it's okay. We'll get through this, yeah? It's okay to feel this way and I'll help you with whatever you need, my love." She strokes your hair, making your body relax in her lap. You agree, feeling her comfortable words enter your ears and help you with the horrible thoughts. "You're so strong, honey. Remember you're not alone, okay?" You mumble something, agreeing with her. You never knew how Wanda could make you feel better with just a few words, maybe it was her magic? You never knew. But she would always be your best friend and the person who would always make you feel better again. "Thank you, momma."

You would never be able to explain how grateful you were to have your mother by your side, because there are so many people in the world who don't have that comfort, and just thinking about not having someone to help you through your episodes made you feel sick. Even if she didn't say it, you knew Wanda was afraid you'd go back to that time when the hole was deeper than it is now. You remember exactly how she cried with you when you vented to her about everything you were feeling, and how she helped you every step of the way again.

"You don't need to thank me, детка. I love you so much, okay? I will always be by your side, on whatever you need." And you knew she was telling the truth, because Wanda loves you so much. You will always be her little miracle and the most important thing in her life. She feels so proud of you, because she knows that you can get through this, that you are strong enough to get through all the challenges in your life. She believes in your ability to overcome these difficult times - because you can - and there will always be people to support and walk alongside you, because you'll never be alone.

[thewritingginger]

18+ Imagine Taiju Shiba...

& you having hate sex.

I finally got around to watching the 2nd season of TR I’ve read the entire manga but seeing my bae Taiju animated got the wheels in my head turnin’ 😩 

Fandom: Tokyo Revengers Pairing: Taiju Shiba x Fem! Reader Word count: 1.1k+ words Warnings: 18+, Established relationship, Argument, Dub-con, Dirty talk, Oral sex (M! receiving), Rough sex, Slight degrading, Spanking, Creampie, Poorly edited

Enjoy ~

The two of you had been at each other's throats for the past hour and that’s not even including the car ride home and before. It’s been a while since the two of you had gotten this heated with each other. Taiju was already irritable from the moment he had woken up this morning and you knew better than to poke the bear when he is in one of his moods.

Shit had been going down with the staffing at his restaurant and to top it off there had been some family drama stirring up and the moment you tried to mediate you were in hot water since you first opened your mouth to now in your living room where the both of you are yelling over each other.

“How many times do I have to fucking tell you that it is Shiba family matters.  You have no place to stick your nose into it.” That got to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry I was under the impression that I was your family or does this ring on my finger mean nothing?”

“Don’t try to pull that shit, you know you had no business getting between me and my brother.” Back and forth you two go, like a broken record the same words keep getting reused and rehashed—making this mess into a disaster till you finally had enough.

“You know what, I don't have to deal with this,” you say, throwing your hands in the air, “I’m leaving!” Turning on your heel, grabbing your purse off the kitchen counter.

“No the fuck you’re not,” Taiju says, heavy footstep sounding behind you.

“Yes the fuck I am,” you counter but before your hand can touch the front door handle Taiju grabs your wrist and turns your back to the door, his towering figure looming over you.

“You’re not leaving this damn house.” Leaning over you till your noses are centimeters apart, you daringly cross the distance till they are touching.

“Or what?” you taunt, any sane person would know this to be a death wish but you’re too fired up with rage to care which only fans the fury burning behind your fiance’s amber eyes.

In a blink of an eye your body becomes weightless, Taiju lifts you up and slams your back against the door before he takes your lips with his. Limbs tightening, teeth clashing and hair pulling—the two of you become a tangled mess of hot breath and lust.

Sitting on the kitchen counter with articles of clothing falling off by the second, you feel Taiju’s hard cock grinding against you. A strangled cry falls from your lips when he pulls your head back by your hair, his strong hand firmly holding your roots, leaving you little room to move.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you wont be able to walk out that damn door.”

“Bite me,” you say before he cuts you off with his hungry mouth, he takes you back to the living room where he unceremoniously tosses you onto the couch. You watch as he tears off his remaining clothes till he is standing completely naked, his powerful body on full display. Straddling your torso, Taiju yanks you up right by your hair once more and rubs his leaking cockhead against your mouth.

“Open,” he commands, “I’m going to fuck the smart ass right out of this fucking mouth of yours.” His other hand pries your mouth open just enough for him to sheath his thick length down your throat till you gag. You look pitiful with your mouth stretched wide, drool seeping from the corners of your lips and his balls smacking your chin as tears fall down your cheeks. Your hands grip his thighs for support, your nails digging into his muscle so hard you could draw blood.

“Such a good little cock slut. You think you’ve learned your lesson?” he asks, roughly pulling out of your mouth allowing you breath, spit falling from your lips as you gasp for air.

“Go to hell,” you spit. With nothing but a growl as his response Taiju quickly flips you over till you are holding onto the back of the couch. Pulling your work skirt up over your hips, Taiju’s strong hand comes down on your bare asscheek with a hard smack!

Pulling your panties to the side he stuffs his throbbing cock into your pussy and begins to pound into you with as much force as he can muster. Every harsh pump, an expression of his anger.

“Filthy little cunt already soaking wet for me. You like it when I’m rough with you, huh? Like talking back to me, knowing I’ll fuck the brat right out of you?” His taunts hiss between his gritted teeth, his hand spanking your ass over and over again till you cry out.

“Fuck!” you cry, your head hanging down before he pulls it back up till you’re looking at yourself in the reflection of the dark window, his mouth right next to your ear.

“Look at yourself as you take my cock—Shit!” he yells, standing back, one hand in your hair and the other pulling your hips back to him as he watches your greedy pussy swallow his thick length.

“Yes, Taiju! Fuck me like you mean it,” you moan, he laughs at your meager attempts at remaining mad at him but the truth is you love him and you love this. He makes your body feel on fire, the way he uses his strength against you is more powerful than any drug you can find.

“Always trying to act all big and bad but you’re nothing but putty in my hand—or should I say on my cock.” His voice is condescending and annoying but all that goes out the window when he releases your hip to scratch at your neglected clitoris, shooting you over the edge. Incoherent wails and words fall from your lips as he continues to piston his cock in your exhausted cunt and you can hear that your fiance isn’t far behind.

“Fuck, Baby, you’re squeezing my cock so tight,” he groans, releasing you entirely to pull your hips back with both hands, his pumps becoming stuttered and impatient for his end. “You want my cum, Baby? Want me to fill you nice and full?”

“Yes. Yes!” you cry, a second high drawing near. Reaching between your legs you rub your clitoris with quick circles as Taiju finally erupts within you, his hip still using you to milk every drop from his balls taking you over the edge with him one last time.

The two of you are hunched over the couch, heaving for breath, collecting yourselves from your heated joining. Your dazed thoughts are brought back when you feel Taiju’s lips pressing against your bare shoulder.

“I love you,” he grumbles in a low voice, much softer than he was moments before, “I’m sorry.” His apology is sincere, looking over your shoulder you give him a smile.

“I’m sorry too.” Pulling out of you, you were about to go to the bathroom to clean up but Tiaju throws you over his shoulder and heads towards the stairs. “Tai!”

“Sorry, Sweetheart but I still have some anger left to get out.”

I hope you enjoyed it!

Feedback & interaction is alway appreciated!

💛 ~

~ Masterlist ~

Let me know if you want to be part of my tag list [HERE]

[kayesfanfics]

The Vampires Handmaiden

Pairing: Hector x Fem! Reader

A/N: The ending is a bit rushed, but I wasn’t about to write out a whole episode lol. But Hector is absolutely my fav character and there isn’t nearly enough fanfic about him. Also AU where Hector DIDNT FALL IN LOVE WITH HIS ABUSER AND FELL FOR SOMEONE WHO ACTUALLY LOVED HIM.

Warnings: Abuse, blood, swearing/vulgar language, some Stockholm syndrome, Carmilla being mommy except in a toxic abusive way

You shivered in the freezing cold, following your mistresses down to greet your other mistress, Carmilla. You stood behind Striga and Lenore, keeping your head down and eyes on the ground, hoping not to draw any attention towards yourself. You listened as the sisters greeted each other and Carmilla complained and complained about the long journey she had, her soldiers marching past her into the castle. You noticed at the very end, a man with silver hair was being dragged along by a chain on his neck, his hands tied in front of him and his boots missing. He looked extremely battered and exhausted, and your stomach churned, knowing the feeling all too well. He made eye contact with you as he passed, until he was tugged harshly to continue following the soldiers down to the dungeons.

“Y/N, go warm some water for my bath. And make it a good one.” Carmilla ordered you. “It better be ready after I have a drink with my sisters.”

“Yes, mistress.” You bowed, before heading to collect frozen water to heat up for her bath. You carried the frozen buckets of water to the fireplace to warm them up, dripping Carmilla’s specific combination of essential oils into her bath. You lit candles as normal, and kept the water warm until she arrived, immediately stripping naked and getting in the tub. You kneeled down and began to scrub her aching feet, as she sighed contently in the warm water.

“Your Kind is so despicable, Y/N. I don’t know HOW you survived all those years without me.” Carmilla grumbled, still agitated from her long march in the freezing tundras.

“Me neither, mistress. Thank you for saving me.” You said without a thought, used to thanking her for kidnapping you and beating you into submission until you complied with her and her sisters’ every order. She often spoke about how lucky you were that she found you, and how you’d be dead in a ditch without her.

“Oh, get out. I need time alone. You’re dismissed for the night.” She waved her hand in your face, before sinking into the water. You bowed to her, before quickly leaving her to relax for the night. Sunrise would thankfully be soon, your time to roam as you wished and do as you pleased.

You thought about the poor man they had dragged in, how pathetic he looked, bags under his pretty blue eyes and cuts scattered across his face and hands. His feet were probably frozen numb, and you knew the guards probably stripped him of his clothing, along with his humanity. You found yourself wandering to the kitchen, grabbing bread and a fresh apple and stuffing them into your pockets. You walked down to the dungeons, giving the guard a few coins for his silence before looking around for the man. You finally spotted him in a cell, huddled in the corner and embracing himself. He was shivering, and you couldn’t tell if he was crying or not, but you wouldn’t blame him if he was. You approached his cell, kneeling down and taking out the food from your pockets.

“I brought you some food.” You spoke, and he slowly looked up at you. His face was strong, but his eyes were soft and filled with fear. He was trying to mask it and remain tough, but you could see right through that facade.

“Why would you do that? Don’t you work for them?” He asked, spatting the word ‘them’.

“I do. But only for fun.” You joked, holding the food out to him, reaching into his cell. He looked at the guard in worry, but eventually crawled towards you, taking the food and immediately digging in. “I’m sorry I couldn’t bring you clothing or a blanket. They would notice. My name is Y/N, what is yours?”

“Hector.” He said simply between bites, scarfing down the food like he hadn’t eaten in days, which, he probably hasn’t.

“Well, Hector, I also brought you this.” You duh into your pocket and grabbed a small bottle. “It’s an ointment, for your wounds. There is much disease in these cells.”

He carefully took the bottle from you, finishing his food quickly and leaning against the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest to hide his nude body from you.

“Why are you helping me?” He asked, looking down at the ground.

“Because I know what it’s like to be treated like this by them. I know how cruel and careless they are.” You admitted, sitting down fully.

“You do?” He looked up at you, gazing into your eyes.

“Yes. I’m a human, like you. They took me a couple of years ago, maybe longer. I’m now their lady-in-waiting.”

“How come they haven’t turned you, then? I thought they hated humans.”

“They do, which is why they don’t turn me. They want me to know I’m below them. Weaker than them.” You explained, fidgeting with the skirt of your dress. “They treated me like they do you. They broke me down years ago. Kept me around for their amusement, and so I could serve them and they don’t lift a finger. Why did they take you, Hector?”

“I’m a forgemaster. Carmilla wants me to make night creatures for her.” He sighed. “I should’ve run away when I had the chance. I can’t believe I trusted her.”

“Don’t blame yourself. They’re expert manipulators.”

“Y/N! WHERE ARE YOU, GIRL?” You jumped when you heard the booming voice of Striga, calling for you.

“I must leave. I will try to bring you more food tomorrow. Rotten meat with maggots isn’t exactly sustaining.”

“I quite like the maggots, actually. They add a nice crunch.” He smiled playfully, despite his situation. It made you smile back, at least until you heard your name being shouted again, and you bolted off so you wouldn’t get in trouble for speaking to the prisoner.

You continued to visit Hector while the vampiresses were asleep, providing him with fresh food and what comfort you brought him. You asked about his occupation as a forgemaster, curious as to why Carmilla needed one so bad. He often had fresh injuries when you visited, and you would reach through the bars of the cell to rub ointment into the ones he couldn’t reach on his back. One day, he wasn’t in his cell, and when you asked the guard (and gave him some coins), he told you he had been moved into the “luxurious cells”. You scoffed at that. A cage was still a cage, no matter how nice it looked. But you made your way to the other cells, ducking behind the wall when you saw Lenore standing at Hector’s cell. You peeked around it, watching her tug on a leash attached to Hector’s neck, forcing him forward, taking it off of him. You felt a pang of both jealousy and disgust when she called him a ‘good boy’, possession and venom dripping from her words. You hid again as she turned to leave, and once she was gone, you rushed over to his cell.

“Are you alright?” You asked, heart sinking when you saw a blush on his cheeks.

“I’m fine.”

“Hector, she’s tricking you. She doesn’t care about you.” You grabbed his cell bars, trying to make him listen. “Lenore is a-“

“Is a what?”

Your blood went cold when you heard her voice, right behind you. You shivered in fear, eyes wide and body frozen in terror as you felt her cold hand harshly grab your shoulder, her claws digging in and drawing blood.

“Lenore, don’t harm her.” Hector warned her.

“Or what? What exactly will you do?” She asked, before throwing you across the room with her superhuman strength, hitting the wall and falling to the floor.

“Lenore! She was helping me! Leave her be!” Hector grabbed the bars this time, now trying to make her listen to him.

“Helping you?” She laughed bitterly as she walked over to you, grabbing your hair to make you look up at her. “Well, Carmilla is not going to be pleased that her pet was playing with mine now, will she?”

“Mistress, please don’t-“

“I am not the one to beg mercy from, Y/N. You should know this by now.”

Hector yelled at Lenore and for you as Lenore dragged you away, up to Carmilla’s grand study, throwing you onto her table.

“Can I help you?” Carmilla asked Lenore, glaring down at you with disgust.

“It appears our pets have been getting friendly with each other. She’s been helping Hector this whole time.”

“Oh really?” Carmilla glowered down at you, grabbing your hair harshly and holding you up by it, lifting you off her table.

“M-Mistress, I’m sorry! Please, mercy!” You begged, clenching your jaw at the pain of being held off the floor by your hair. “I-I just wanted to help!”

“Well, my dear sweet Y/N, you helped the wrong person.” Carmilla bared her teeth. “I gave you free roam of the castle, I saved your life, and this is how you repay me?”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please!” You cried, feeling your scalp starting to bleed.

“I’ll leave you to it. I should probably discipline Hector as well.” Lenore said smugly, grinning at you before exiting her sisters study, leaving you alone with the merciless vampire.

Hours later, you stood beside Carmilla in the sister’s meeting room. She held a leash attached to your neck, the collar on too tight and dried blood coating your face and shoulders from the beating you endured from her. Your hands were folded politely in front of you, eyes fixed on the ground below as you didn’t dare move an inch from your mistress. They talked and bickered about their plan, various maps set out on the table with their wine glasses filled with blood. Carmilla had already drank from your neck, pure virgins blood remained her favorite to drain out of you until you went pale, but not enough to kill you. You didn’t move when you heard the door open behind you, but knew Hector was there when Carmilla complained about a man being in their quarters. You looked at him out of the corner of his eye, seeing he was confused and hurt by Lenore in some way you didn’t know yet. He looked at the collar tightened around your neck, guilt flashing in his eyes when he saw all the blood and bruises littering your face.

You listened in horror as Lenore boasted to her sisters about what she did to Hector, binding him to her through deceit and manipulation. You felt sick when she asked for a large bed in his room so she could “train him”, and silenced Hector when he tried to say something.

“Hm. Do you think you could make one for Y/N? She’s been disobedient, so I tethered her to myself to make sure she can’t do things behind my back anymore. But this ring would be so much easier, then I don’t have to keep her around me all the time.” Carmilla asked her sister, ignoring your look of horror you gave her at the idea.

“I’m already a step ahead of you, sister.” Lenore smiled, tossing her two rings for the both of you.

You fell to your knees, hands gripping Carmilla’s thighs, tears streaming down your face.

“Mistress, please! I’ll be good, I promise! Please don’t do this! I beg of you!” You pleaded, glossy eyes looking up at her with desperation.

“Oh, I love it when you do that, Y/N.” She smiled, one hand holding your chin. “But if you hadn’t betrayed me, I wouldn’t have to do this. Now would I? This is your fault, I’m only doing this because I have to, dear.”

You whimpered as she grabbed your wrist, shoving the ring onto your finger.

“Now, be a good girl and pledge your loyalty to me.” She said, running a hand through your hair, scrapping your sore and bloody scalp.

“I-I…I p-pledge my loyalty to y-you.” You cried out in pain as soon as those words left your mouth, feeling the magic piercing your skin and binding you to Carmilla. She pet your hair and shushed you, letting you cry into her lap as your body trembled pathetically.

“Good girl.” She smiled, before turning to Lenore. “You really are a genius, sister.”

“I know.” Lenore said cockily, before jumping off the table and grabbing Hectors arm, dragging him with her. His gaze lingered onto you, feeling as if it was his fault for this to be done to you as well. But you knew it was inevitable, Carmilla would’ve done this even if you hadn’t helped him, she liked the power over you too much.

“Now, darling, you are not to speak to Hector again. Do you understand me?” Carmilla asked you as you calmed down, sobs slowly dissolving into silent tears.

“Yes, mistress.” You said numbly, but sighed in relief when she took the collar that choked you off.

“Good. Now, off you go. Go clean yourself up, you look dreadful.”

You staggered out of the room, clutching your dress in your hands as you willed yourself to stop crying. Any freedom and humanity you had left was just stripped away, taken from you without a second thought or care in the world. You now felt empty and numb, the hopelessness overtaking your mind as you made your way to gather water for your own bath. You sank into the warm water, letting it comfort you like an embrace would, gently washing the blood out of your hair and off of your body. You wished you could wash the spell away, but no matter how hard you scrubbed, it wouldn’t leave you. You headed to bed soon after, curling into yourself and crying yourself to sleep.

The next few days went about as normal, Carmilla ordering you to do random chores and bring her glasses of blood, sometimes making you drain your own blood for her. You did as you were asked, it wasn’t like you had much of a choice. You were still allowed to roam as you wished in the daytime, but if you went too close to Hector, your ring burned like fire and it felt as if swords were piercing your body. You felt incredibly lonely like you had before he arrived, but even more afraid than before. You constantly worried about what Lenore was doing to Hector behind closed doors, and unbeknownst to you, he too was worried about what Carmilla was doing to you. Lenore treated you more harshly than she ever had, making it known to you that she was not pleased with you befriending Hector. After she saw you watch as Hector walked past the room you were in, she approached you, grabbing your neck and hoisting you up to be level with her face.

“I know exactly what you are thinking. I suggest you cease those impure thoughts about what is mine.” She warned, smile still soft but eyes filled with hatred.

“I-I don’t know what you mean, mistress-“ you stammered, yelping when she slapped you across the face.

“Lie to me again, I dare you.” She hissed. “Hector is mine, do you understand? He will never love you, he doesn’t even look you in the eye anymore. So quit wasting your time filling your pretty little head with such delusions. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.” You nodded as best you could, coughing when she finally let you go. She turned to leave, looking back at you with a devious grin.

“I understand your desire for him, of course. I know you saw that cock of his. It feels better than it looks.” She cackled at you, before finally leaving you alone. You choked back tears, not wanting to give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to you. You rushed to your room to cry in peace, instead seeing a letter resting on your pillow. You picked it up and opened it, reading the name at the bottom and seeing it was from Hector.

‘Y/N. I know you’re being forced to keep away from me, I am not angry with you, I’ve been avoiding you too so that I don’t get you into anymore trouble because of me. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about Lenore, I thought she truly cared about me. How wrong I was. But I’ve been alone with my thoughts for awhile now, and I’ve come to conclusion that I want to help you. I care for you as you cared for me when I arrived, and I don’t want you to suffer on my behalf anymore. You don’t deserve this treatment, and neither do I. I have a plan for escape for us both, I will help you gain your complete freedom back. Wait for another letter from me, but in the meantime, avoid me at all costs. They can’t know we’re speaking again.

Burn this so that they don’t know I’ve reached out. -Hector’

You held the letter to your chest, tears dripping onto your bedding. Nobody had ever wanted to help you before, and if they did it was out of their own self interest. It had been so long since someone showed you any compassion or kindness, and him wanting to help you escape this life gave you a new sense of hope. You did as instructed and burned the letter, and checked your bed often for the next letter. You didn’t see much of Hector for the next week, only catching glimpses of him in the library , and you didn’t dare wander near his work place upstairs. You received a letter with the details of his plan later in the week, with detail of what you needed to do to stay out of danger. He told you about how he would trap Lenore, and allow her to be killed by the sunlight in the morning. Due to her manipulation and his messy feelings towards her, he didn’t have the heart to kill her himself. But Hector wasn’t a killer in the first place, he gave beings life and showed them kindness and empathy, something those vampires lacked.

The plan would be carried out that night, before the sun would rise. You did your chores as usual, not showing any unusual behavior or giving them any reason to be suspicious. You served Carmilla her chalice of blood for her study session, before bowing and leaving her to her work. Striga and Morana were away, all you had to worry about now was Lenore, arguably the worst. You wandered the castle with caution, trying to pinpoint where she was, and when you couldn’t find her, you came to the conclusion she was up at Hector’s workshop. You were supposed to meet him up there, but you didn’t want to risk Lenore hurting either one of you.

A shiver ran up your spine when you heard the screech of night creatures, and in your panic, you feet took you straight to safety; to Hector. It took you a few tries to find his workshop, stumbling up stairs as the castle shook from the attacks of the night creatures. When you finally saw him, a blue magic cage was blocking the doorway, holding Lenore inside of it.

“Hector!” You shouted, his eyes immediately finding yours.

“Y/N! You’re okay!” He smiled getting close to the cage as he could. You ignored the pain from the ring, face contouring in pain, but your smile remained.

“What is this?! Hector!” Lenore raged, glaring daggers at you. “How have you two been conspiring? The rings wouldn’t allow you two to speak!”

“We haven’t said a word to each other in weeks.” Hector said, facial expression stiffening into anger. “We didn’t see each other at all. But I have other ways of communication that you missed, along with the devices I’ve put about the castle. There’s a lot you didn’t see.”

You turned around when you heard the screeching and growls of night creatures, coming up the stairs towards you. You backed up against the cage as much as you could as the creatures approached you, and dark man in capes leading them. You looked at them with fear, knowing night creatures to eat and tear apart anything they wished.

“I do not mean you harm.” The man told you, stepping up to you. “But if you would mind moving, that would be appreciated.”

You stepped aside and he opened the cage with his enchanted sword, allowing you through as well. Lenore had half a mind to tackle you right then and there, but with the man between you she didn’t, instead just glaring. Hector stepped back as you entered the room, not wanting to cause you any pain from the ring. You wanted so desperately to touch him and be near him, but he didn’t want to hurt you any more, keeping his distance as he spoke with his colleague. You watched as he suddenly asked for his friends knife, and you tilted your head in confusion until you saw him bring it to his finger, cutting the ring off of him. His severed finger and ring clattered to the floor, blood dripping and sweat beading on his forehead as he allowed his friend to cauterize the wound with the same knife. Hector took the knife back, giving you a look that asked for your permission. You nodded, hissing in pain as he stepped closer, and crying when he took your hand in his, quickly slicing your own finger off. As soon as the ring fell off, it was like taking a breath of fresh air. You didn’t feel that weight on your shoulders or the fear in the back of your mind anymore, and the physical pain melted away immediately.

“Thank you, Isaac.” Hector said as he handed the knife back to him.

“Of course. Now, I’m off to slay Carmilla. See you on the other side, my friend.” Isaac said, taking the amulet Hector made for him and leaving the room. Hector turned back to you, a soft smile adorning his pretty face.

“Let’s wrap that up, sit.” He gestured to a chair, going to his supplies and finding bandages for the both of you. He wrapped your hand up first worrying about his own only after he asked if your bandage was too tight.

“May I hug you?” You asked suddenly. The adrenaline had made your walls come down, too full of a new hope for life that you didn’t even think to be embarrassed. Hector smiled at you, opening his arms for you to embrace him. Your arms immediately wrapped around him, the first time you’d ever been able to truly touch him since you had met all those weeks ago. You savored the feeling of his own arms wrapped around your body, his chin resting on your shoulder and your face buried in his chest.

“This is nice.” Hector grinned, pulling away slightly to look at you. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything you did for me. You were the first person to show me genuine kindness.” He smiled, before looking at Lenore, who simply glared at the both of you.

“I knew I needed to help you as soon as I laid my eyes upon your face.” You said, leaning in slightly towards his face. “You too were the first person to show me kindness in a very long time, Hector. I…I love you.”

His eyes widened slightly at that, a blush creeping up to his cheeks.

“Oh, please!” Lenore shouted from her cage. “The two of you barely know each other! This is ridiculous!”

“Yes, because you know me so well.” Hector rolled his eyes at her. “Let me put her on the balcony so we can have a real conversation, okay?”

You nodded and let go of him, letting him argue with Lenore and move her somewhere else so she didn’t bother you. You gasped when a force exploded somewhere in the castle, shaking the whole structure with such force. But you felt something else as well…freedom. That man Isaac really did it and killed Carmilla, you could feel it. It immediately brought tears to your eyes, and you began weeping. It had been so long being under Carmilla’s hold, the feeling of her hands being pried off your shoulders was overwhelming. You hadn’t felt like this in years, it almost scared you. You never thought you had a future away from this castle, away from your mistresses. You’d assumed you’d be serving them until the day you died, and probably by their own hands. The relief washed over you, overwhelming you.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Hector asked as he reentered the room, kneeling down in front of you.

“Nothing…nothing at all.” You smiled at him through tears, continuing to sob from the feeling. “I just…I really do love you, Hector.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” He wiped your face with his thumbs as he cupped your face, before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to yours in a perfectly sweet, loving kiss.

[wintersongstress]

— fiancé;

A/N: This is very sappy but I don't think I'm sorry 🫣

As the lush slopes of the English countryside sails past the window, there is no sense of past or present in Simon’s mind. With your hand in his, all the rest floats away, a blur of green and white, and he is lulled for the first time into a dream of a future—hopeful, solid, and within his grasp. Not the smoke and haze it used to be, but a vision which gathered light and clarity. Like dawn on a riverbank, the fog which settles after a long, cool night lifts. Suddenly Simon could imagine the sunrise of being yours and all the days that came after.

You are none the wiser to his pivotal reflections, absorbed in reading a novel while the train wends smoothly along the rail tracks. Your hand is nestled safely in his and you occasionally stroke a thumb over his knuckle. The sun twists a kaleidoscope of streaks across your features, with patches of sky in-between the forest hues, and he is transfixed in this moment. If only his squad mates could see him now, Simon thinks. He always got as far away from it all as he could when he was on leave. When he was with you. He softened into someone else, someone he liked to be.

Never in his life had being with someone and spending time with them felt so liberating and worthwhile, nor brought him such serene happiness. Together, you made memories he wishes he could trap in time, like an insect encapsulated in amber.

That morning, he had followed your adventure-seeking whims out of bed, into packing a lunch and dressing for sunshine, and hopping on a train out of the noise of the city. Through the sprawling, picturesque gardens of one of England’s many castles, you walked beside him, your graceful arm looped through the solidity of his. He liked it that way: showing the world this beautiful woman was his, and how he intended to keep her. Anyone could plainly see that the two of you were together, and were happy.

The air smelled of summer grass and a pond rippled with the glide of two swans where you found a place to rest this afternoon, at the water’s edge beneath the drooping shade of a willow. On a blanket you spent the better part of an hour lying within the mystery of those branches swaying in the dreaming wind, meanwhile Simon kissed and kissed you, long and deep, slow and sweet. Your skirt petaled around your legs and you smiled up at him, tracing the divot of his nose with a fingertip before he brought his mouth to yours again.

Though your blouse had hitched above your waist and the skin of your stomach was warm and soft beneath his wandering palm, he kept his caresses leashed; docile and satisfied. When he gazed at you—at the inimitable color of your eyes, the tilt of your smile, and the subtle furrow of your brow—all his heart could think was, my love, and pressed his forehead to yours. And it was enough. It was all he wanted. What more could he ask for?

Presently, you flip a page, and the sunlight catches the silver of your earrings—glittering, graceful, drawing his eyes down the elegant column of your neck. His fingers were in the mindless midst of tracing the lines of your palm, searching, he realized, for the one which promised a long life. With him. That was what he wanted. And the revelation makes him stop short.

He wanted to put a ring on that caring, loving hand which laid in his. Simon knew it with more certainty than anything. How pretty the sight would be, how complete the picture. To feel the facets of an emblematic stone beneath his thumb would make it all real and cast all the pain endured in his life far behind.

Upon reaching the summit of his thoughts, a feeling seizes his gut, worse than the leap out of a plane to descend into a combat zone. He never imagined this for himself; all the happiness, security, and commitment he was ready to provide for you which seemingly came from thin air. But what was more terrifying was the alternative: letting you go. Never choosing that path the one and only time it opened up to him. Never being brave enough to be the man who goes after what he wants and communicates it.

Sensing his shift in mood, your hand slides out of his grasp, trailing up his forearm. He finds your gaze fixed to him, soft with a question, oblivious to his tumultuous epiphany. There was no mask he could put on with you: it was all plainly written on his face. The way you sidle closer, pressing your arm against his, the roiling doubt and uncertainty abates and the fabric of the dream weaves tight. If he were to ask, you would say yes. Because you’re tracing that same line in his palm with the same intent, and his heart beats again.

[honeyjars-sims]

3.39 Decent Proposal(s)

The Spring semester was drawing to a close and while Chantal aced her exams as usual, she wasn't feeling any more motivated to continue her schooling than she had in the fall. When Kayla suggested they meet up to chat, Chantal hoped for an opportunity to discuss her friend's business plans in greater depth.

Chantal's wish came true: Kayla told her that the ideas Chantal had shared with her a few months ago had been a big inspiration to her. She now had more clarity about what direction she wanted to take her company in and she was almost ready to file the paperwork to get things started.

Chantal's heart sank a bit until Kayla explained there was one thing she was waiting on.

"I don't want to use your ideas unless you can profit from them, too," she said. She made Chantal an offer--either she could pay Chantal for the rights to her designs, or Chantal could become a partner in her business.

"Of course, if you don't want me to use your ideas at all, I'll go back to the drawing board," Kayla assured her.

Chantal thought about it. She knew she didn't want to sell the rights, but starting a business was a big risk. She would likely have to put her schooling on hold for something that might not ever get off the ground. Still, she couldn't turn down an opportunity to do something she'd been dreaming of her whole life. She gleefully accepted Kayla's offer to become her business partner.

Chantal wasn't the only one with something to celebrate. Cece finally graduated from university. She was ecstatic to finally be able to join Ben on tour and become an official member of his band.

After the ceremony, Ben and Cece shared a meal with Cece's family. She couldn't help but notice that her usually easy-going boyfriend seemed a bit more nervous than usual.

After dinner, he suggested he and Cece take a walk. He lead her down to the water's edge and just as the sun began to set, Ben got down on one knee.

Ben looked into her eyes. "Cecelia, being away from you has made me realize how much better life is with you by my side. Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" she squealed. Cece wasn't usually one for big displays of emotion, but tears of happiness were forming in her eyes.

"I love you, Benjamin Coleman."

"And I love you, Cecelia Fields-Haim."

Previous | Beginning of story | Beginning of chapter | Next

[astraystayyh]

A sun and a moon

pairing: minho x reader, pre-established relationship.

genre: hurt/comfort. reader is going through a rough patch.

On days when the mere thought of breathing gets tiring, Minho makes it feel a bit easier.

Please let me know if you enjoyed reading, it means a lot to me <3

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

It was one of those weeks when you woke up every day feeling out of place. In your home, in your mind, in your body.

You never really understood why you'd start feeling this way. It would happen out of the blue, and you'd be forced to carry the heavy weight of your insecurities with you throughout the day.

On days like these, you'd wish you'd be able to crawl out of your skin, float in the air, and not feel anything. You'd give everything to quiet the thoughts in your head that criticize your every move- the way you walk, the way you talk, the way you breathe.

Minho would always notice- how you wither down like a flower that was left to fend for itself, rootless. You'd become quiet, afraid that if you ever spoke, you'd break down and he'd be forced to pick up your shattered pieces. You didn't want to be a burden for him, you wanted to be easy to love.

And when Minho noticed, he didn't comment. Because he knew that part of being human is feeling down, and that it can't always be sunshine and roses. But what he didn't convey in words, he did in actions. He would kiss your forehead randomly, his fingers threading gently through your hair. He'd make you lunch, drawing a smiley face on the rice with sauce. He'd bring you water, making sure you drank it all, patting your head when you are done.

He wouldn't talk, but his gestures spoke for him- they were telling you, 'I know, I know you are not feeling like yourself and I still love you'.

But you couldn't voice your gratitude or your love for him. And it made you resent yourself more. You'd spiral down, and you'd start to think that he deserves someone else, someone better. Someone who doesn't sit on a couch unmoving; selfishly hoping that the universe would pass on their insecurities to somebody else.

"I'm sorry", you mutter on a particularly draining night, and he frowns, placing his chopsticks down.

"I'm sorry you are stuck with me. You deserve better", you slip out, angry tears welling up in your eyes. You don't even know why you spoke. Maybe it was the sight of the dinner he made you left untouched, because you couldn't bring yourself to eat it.

He's quick to your side, kneeling in front of you and holding your hand in his. "There is no one better, sweetheart. There is only you", he reassures, his tone so soft it makes you cry even more.

His warm hand in yours doesn't make the insecurities go away, but for a minute, your mind forgets. It allows you a moment of solace- like a rainbow that comes once in a while to remind you that the sun will shine again.

That night in bed, Minho pulls your body toward his, your back snug against his chest.

"You know, they say that the moon and the sun are lovers", he starts off, tone hushed. "And they say that one day, the sun started to notice how soft the moon's light is, compared to its own warm rays. And how lovers always write poems about the moon, when no one can look at the sun for too long", he pauses, and you nod to show him you are listening.

"And the sun thinks, maybe... maybe the moon deserves a better star to love". He's talking about you, you realize. You are the sun and he is the moon.

"But... what the sun doesn't know is that the moon only shines because it reflects the sun's light. The moon wouldn't be the moon without the sun. Just like I would be nothing without you, my love".

Minho kisses the back of your head, and you shake in his arms, your sobs resounding loudly in the room. "I am who I am because of you", he whispers right in your ear, hugging you even tighter to him.

Right now, you aren't okay, and Minho's words don't fix everything. But they are the light at the end of the tunnel, so you clutch onto them. You store them in a sacred cabinet in your mind, in the wait of the day where you'll wholeheartedly believe them.

It will happen soon, you think to yourself. Soon, you'll be okay again, and Minho will still be by your side.