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liliannadelaphinehartifelt · 1 month

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Alastor - [ MASQUERADE PT. 2 ]

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A/N: I physically can not refrain from writing smut with angst or implied angst… please forgive me.. ❤️

WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MDNI ] + [ SMUT ] + [ MATURE THEMES ] + [ MALE READER ] + [ SLIGHT ANGST ]

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“Would you mind if I came to see you again? I'll be in town by the weekend.” You tried not to smile too hard as the question left your lips, carrying through the telephone’s gentle crackling to resonate to the receiving end clearly, and the man you'd grown to cherish after a few short months of quiet correspondence gave a low response.

“I'll have you all to myself?” Alastor tugged your inquiry along with his own, smirking as you huffed dramatically and no doubt rolled your eyes at his words.

“As always, Al. You know I'm not one for having many friends,” you admit, slumping further into your living room sofa as if to sink through cushions and disappear from the blooming embarrassment you felt hearing him laugh again.

It was your second favorite thing about him. His honest charm was the first, and that had yet to change since the last time you'd enjoyed his company. Exactly six months ago, during your second visit to the City of Jazz, it was fun!

Alastor had essentially filled the void you'd been unable to conceal, keeping you on your toes at every turn and stringing you along in affectionate mind games you knew better than to entertain.

It was difficult not to, though; he knew what to say, what to do with you, and how to handle you. At times, you considered the idea of him being no ordinary man.

Devilish.

That's how you'd describe him to anyone who asked. Alastor was a striking character, able to overshadow your persona with a gentle smile, making you feel very accessible.

You weren't allowed freedom from judgment, public image, and parasocial expectations like every silver screen star was subjected to. Fortunately, you had no obligations with Alastor, no point to prove, and you amounted such casualness to the building of mutual bonding.

He understood fame and its demands.

He understood you…more than most.

Alastor interrupted your wandering thoughts with a witty comment, “Hm, touche, but I suppose I'm the exception.” You scoffed, grinning at the ceiling before making an equally snarky retort.

“Don't sound so full of yourself..” you heard him click his tongue, a sharp sound you wished to hear in person again sooner rather than later.

“But it's the truth, mon cher. Plain and simple.” he concurs, and you shift to sit up straight, reaching for the glass on the coffee table before you, studying the few ounces of liquor before downing the bitter liquid. “Am I welcome or not, Mr. Hartifelt?” You suck your teeth, nose scrunching as the alcohol flushes your veins, promoting your nerves to settle and easing your heart rate as you wait for his answer.

You felt a thrill from just speaking to him. It was beautiful, really, and scandalous to some degree.

Falling for a man you’d met only a handful of times shouldn’t be possible, but here you were, waiting with bated breath to hear his decision to see you again.

Please say yes…just one last time.

Alastor smiled, taking his time to contemplate your offer while leaning back in his desk chair, eyes trained on the intricate soundboard he sat at. He'd grown attached to you in one way or another, unsure if it was pure curiosity or pity on his part. Both reasons hadn't plagued him before your first encounter, and Alastor refused to acknowledge such impractical emotions, reminding himself that you were nothing more than a tag-along for him.

A lonely soul he could very quickly leave behind.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

That's what he forced his conscience to believe, willing itself to envision his compliance to your request as intrigue rather than genuine affection.

“I wouldn't dream of you refusing you, my friend. I look forward to spending time with you soon,” his answer was concise, a brief hint of satisfaction in his tone, and you immediately blurted out a joyous remark of relief.

“Then it’s settled! I’ll see you in two days,” a bright smile stretched across your face as he laughed softly on the other end, “You make it sound as if I’m your only reason for living, my dear.” Alastor shakes his head at his statement, knowing it held truth and proud to know he had such an effect on you.

Am I really that obvious to him?…

A stab of embarrassment hit you square in the heart, a subtle frown replacing your grin as you reflected on the time you’d spent with the radio host. He’d taken you anywhere and everywhere in New Orleans, insisted you join him for dinner on nights he wasn’t broadcasting, and even made an effort to view your recent film. However, he avidly proclaimed his hate for lackluster visual media.

However, he never criticized your films, choosing to compliment your scenes, or congratulating your recent success on his broadcast, as any good friend should do.

You couldn’t recall when Alastor had ever let on he knew of your attraction to him. Yes, he pried at your emotions for the hell of it a few times, but he’d never explicitly acknowledged it.

This was the first time he’d even alluded to such feelings, and your nerves were alert instantly, mind going blank as you navigated your flustered state before murmuring into the phone with a sheepish smile.

“You think very highly of yourself, Alastor..”

“Apologies, my dear. I’m partial to being honest with you. Take it as a form of flattery, if you will.”

His attempt at a modest apology failed, but you had no intention of stamping out his smug nature. Alastor’s blatant confidence was refreshing, and though you wished to keep speaking with him, your evening wasn’t absent of essential events to attend to.

You bid him goodbye with a heavy heart, wishing him a good evening despite knowing he’d put off sleep until the early morning to keep broadcasting as long as possible, and he returned the subtle sentiment before ending the call.

Hours passed, pictures were taken, interviews were conducted, and fans were screaming your name, but the only person on your mind was Alastor.

The following two days felt tortious, a strained waiting game you couldn’t wait to finish, and the second you arrived back in New Orleans and found the time to slip away from your manager, you headed straight for your usual rendezvous spot with the acclaimed radio host.

Club Intime

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There he was, relaxed in the seclusion of a velvet lounge booth, merely hidden away from the rest of the dimly lit speakeasy. Alastor wasn’t one to socialize unnecessarily. He was content with observing others through the lenses of his round glasses that were beginning to fog up from the fumes of his cigarette, a cold glass half full of whiskey set before him to aid his solitary sedation.

From afar, he looked out of place, cordial, and put together, unlike the rest of the patrons waltzing around. The only unkempt detail about him was the state of his bow tie and collar. He’d undone it the second he sat down, nimble fingers unlacing the stiff ribbon before trying to unbutton his dress shirt's first two clasps. It was a habit he’d yet to avoid after a long evening of work and one you thoroughly enjoyed.

The insignificant results hit just the right nerves, drawing your eyes to his clean-cut features, caramel skin, and hidden scars that he’d once called “unavoidable trophies.” From what or who you weren't sure.

You’d thought to ask him why he felt so highly of his wounds, concerned they’d hit deeper than he let on, but Alastor reassured you through a tight smile your sympathy for him wasn’t needed.

He was a proud man, very sure of himself, and it showed even in a room full of illicit drinkers and rowdy partygoers. Intimidating was the easiest way to describe him, and you felt exactly that way as his hazel eyes settled on you from across the room: intimidated.

You stood at the club's entrance, letting one of the hosts take your coat, but as he asked which table you preferred, you politely declined his offer before looking back at Alastor.

He hadn’t moved, still staring you down with a gentle smile, glasses pushed to the top of his head, and drink in one hand while the cigarette dangled above its rim nestled between two of his fingers.

God, he was beautiful, like a demon straight out of hell.

Alastor tipped his head, signaling you to come his way, and you did with a certain excitement in your eyes. He studied you just the same as you’d done to him, watching your form intently as you snaked through the bustling crowd toward your regular table with him, and by the time you were close enough to call his name, a shameless grin was on your face.

“Al!” You shouted above the drumming music, slipping to sit beside him in the blink of an eye, and he didn’t hesitate to make room for you. “I see you made it to town safely, my dear!” He placed his drink down, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it in the liquor. You blushed at the sight of him exhaling the smoke, brown eyes trained on you and an expectant glint in them as he shifted to face you.

“Y-Yes, well, you’ve been an excellent guide the first few times I’ve come here, so I suppose I’m used to the city now.” You smiled at him softly, hoping he’d disregard the stutter in your voice, but knowing him, you were sure he’d caught it very clearly.

Nothing ever got past Alastor.

He hummed, flattered by your praise but more interested in your apparent nervousness. You had yet to act unbothered by him, which amused the radio host.

“Glad to know my assistance was helpful. Do you plan to stay longer this time round?” Alastor rested an arm on the table, chin finding his open palm, and his head now level with yours.

Fuck, I forget how tall he is sometimes…Jesus Christ…

You gulp, blood running hot as his gaze bores into yours, searching for an answer you had yet to give him. It felt hard to breathe for a moment; all you could hear was your heartbeat and the muffled noise of the club.

Why’d he always have to be so close?

Didn’t he know who you were, who he was, what this looked like to other people?

Granted, the onlookers were drunk or too dizzy from dancing to focus on you both.

But the risk of it all, that unmistakable boldness Alastor embodied, had you nervous in all the right ways.

After a beat of silence and staring, you mustered up the courage to give him a response. “Seeing as I have time off from filming, I’ll spend it here. A change of scenery is an actor's best challenge.” You broke eye contact with him, staring into the crowd to keep from fidgeting as he nodded with a low hum, “So, in other words, I won’t be rid of you anytime soon?” Alastor chuckled as you feigned offense at his question, head snapping towards him and a discreet frown on your lips.

“That was quite rude of you to say, Mr. Hartifelt. Especially since I came all the way here to see you…”

A mischievous spark lit up his eyes, smile growing devilish as you glared at him, “Ah, so I am the apple of your eye, mon cher…”

It wasn’t a question.

He didn’t pose the observation as anything else, wanting to bait you into a confession, and he succeeded quicker than you realized.

“No, I did come to experience the city,” you retort flatly, tempted to order a drink and down it to freeze the nerves burning your skin.

Alastor glanced around, assuring no one was invested in your exchange, before dipping his head to whisper in your ear. “Don’t lie to me, cher. I can see it written all over your face, and I must admit it’s a delight to see.” You could practically hear the wicked grin on his lips, sweet and sinister all at once.

Damn. It.

You paled as he pulled back, smirk ever present as he waved a waiter down to order another drink as if he hadn’t reduced you to a fluttery mess beside him.

You sat pin straight, willing to breathe, and on the verge of zoning out completely.

“And what would you like to order, monsieur?” The waiter addressed you, brow raised as you flinched from the sudden question, “I…uh…I-I’ll have the…” you inwardly panicked from the lack of coherent speech left on your tongue, but the building embarrassment dulled as Alastor spoke up for you.

“He’ll have the same as me. Double it and bring the tab as well. Merci.”

“Je vais le faire sortir tout de suite, monsieur. “ The waiter nodded, taking down Alastor’s request quickly before throwing you a strange look and strutting away.

You had to pull it together, or the image you worked so hard for Katina would crumple at one man’s behest, and deep down, you didn’t mind.

It was tiring being perfect, faking your entire personality for the masses's support, and the longer you lingered in Alastor’s company, the more enticing it was just to let it all go.

To drop the mask you wore like an overbearing shroud.

Just once, you’d like to be another person, someone less empty and carnally fulfilled.

One night wouldn’t hurt, right?

You glanced at Alastor, entranced by his lax manner, foot tapping to the swinging melodies and his eyes scanning the room as if searching for prey.

One night with him…wouldn’t be your end, right?

He didn't pretend with you, nor sugar coat his thoughts and actions in hopes of impressing you, and on more than one occasion you both sought some form of imtalcay from the other.

This man had seen what others couldn’t, so why deny yourself a chance at fleeting freedom?

He could pick you apart and put you back together again, and you wouldn’t mind.

So long as Alastor remained the only man to see through you.

One night.

That’s all you asked him for when your drinks arrived, and you were prepared for him to reject your offer, but the sting of refusal never came.

He accepted the arrangement, smile wide, and his eyes hazing over with lust the moment your question reached his ears.

“I thought you’d never ask, cher….”

The night was a whirlwind after that; the tab left on the table tallied to a large sum from the amount of alcohol ordered, and by the end of two hours, you were utterly inebriated.

You met the comfort of your hotel room not long after your time at the hidden bar, stumbling through the door by Alastors lead, laughing softly as his grip on your wrist tightened when you reached behind to close and lock the door.

If you'd seen the malicious edge to his smile as your lips met, you could've sensed danger before it arrived. Maybe if you'd stopped to think properly as clothes were tossed to the floor and his hands met your bare skin, you would've been weary of how cold they felt. Maybe if you'd perceived the rapid pace of your heart as fear for your life and not a side effect of mind-boggling pleasure while he fucked you to the point of tears, you could've vied for safety.

If only you'd seen through his mask, through his glamorous praises, and listless stares…

Maybe you could've survived and tried to fight him, but the rewards of cracking under his pressure rendered such critical thinking useless.

Once. Twice. A third.

Alastor took you from one height of pleasure to the next, forcing whatever bit of raw honesty he could out of you with a series of unforgiving thrusts, swallowing your breathless moans with shallow kisses. He'd never let you utter a word of refusal, using your body to the fullest without a second thought and scarcely sympathetic of how much you could take from him.

At the mercy of your fourth high, you clung to him, nails digging into his scarred back, head tucked into the crook of his neck, and your chest heaving with quiet groans of his name. Alastor could feel the stray tears on your cheeks, melting on his skin, exciting him to no end. “Oh, you poor thing..” he teased you through gritted teeth, biting back a smile as your walls tightened around his cock, another whine rippling your throat at the condensing remark.

“To think so many adore you, and yet here you are…” Alastor pressed his weight down onto you entirely, hands tight on your hips as he deepened his strokes, reaching places inside you that felt almost foreign. You gave up trying to speak, scratching down his back instead as a wordless warning for release, but he didn't let up.

“…showing your true colors to me. I could almost feel sport for you, Cher.” his tone dripped with vague pity, full of satisfaction as he buried himself in you, earning a soft gasp on your part and a fulfilled grown from him.

A warmth enveloped your core as he spilled his cum into you, adding to the amount he'd already so graciously given and triggering your release in seconds.

“Don't want you to feel bad for me..” you huff tiredly, eyes rolling as your cock twitched and leaked between you. Alastor hummed, eyes lowering the sight of skin glossing over with the sticky white fluid, “I pity any soul as desperate as yours, darling…”

“Desperate?” you question him with a lazy smile, ready to correct his comment but failing to as he pulled out of you, leaving you empty and restless.

“Desperate to be loved by any and everyone…” Alastor clarifies, staring at you with a soft smile on his lips as he leans down to graze them over your parted ones.

“Even by a killer like me…”

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I finally completed this!!!! I'm seriously considering getting an Alastor blanket to curl up in because the stress I've been feeling this week is wild…❤️

Quick side note: do you all realize Alastor would be the most toxic partner in history? Yes, he's sweet, respectful, dashing, and everything else needed to be a surface-level perfect companion. But once you get past all of that, there's not a single aspect of your life Alastor wouldn't control, stalking you, weaving webs of lies to isolate you, using minor signs of affection as a way to keep you close, and buying you gifts to mask all his deep seeded antagonism. He would be your dream man but a total nightmare in one way or another.

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Pilot Alsstor was something else I love him so muchhhh ❤️ credit to creator

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 4 months

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Day 14 — Santa

Pairing || TFATWS!Bucky x Female!Reader

Word Count || Around 500

Contents & Warnings || Fluff, very Mild Smut — mild explicit language.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Advent Calendar 2023

“Come on, babe, it’s gonna be fun,” you exclaimed, bouncing on your toes and playfully tugging Bucky’s arm as you joined the line leading up to Santa’s throne. The sound of holiday music resonated in the background, creating a magical atmosphere filled with anticipation and joy. The queue was adorned with vibrant decorations, and twinkling lights illuminated the path ahead. Families, children, and a few other couples patiently waited for their turn to seize a photo with Santa.

Bucky couldn’t shake off his reservations about sitting on Santa’s lap, a hint of standoffishness evident in his demeanor. You, on the other hand, bubbled with excitement. “I don’t know about this, doll. Isn’t this more for kids?” he questioned, arms crossed, his signature grumpy furrow accentuating his eyebrows.

You giggled, enveloping his waist from the side and gazing up at him with doe eyes and an adorable pout. “It’s for everyone who wants to create memories and capture a cute holiday moment together. It would be adorable to have a picture with Mr. Santa himself.”

He sighed, relaxing as your infectious enthusiasm softened his reservations. “I can’t resist when you’re being so cute,” he chuckled, embracing you tenderly and planting a kiss on your forehead, surrendering himself to a bit of festive childishness.

Finally, your turn arrived, and Santa, with a hearty laugh, welcomed you both to his throne. “Ho, ho, ho! What can I do for this lovely couple today?”

You grinned at Bucky before turning to Santa, your eagerness palpable at meeting the man, the myth, and the legend himself. “We just want a cute photo to remember this Christmas! If you don’t mind, Mr Santa?”

“A cute photo, you say? That’s a splendid request!”

Though slightly embarrassed, Bucky couldn’t resist the twinkle in your eyes. Your excitement warmed his soul, and he couldn’t deny that it also excited him.

As you settled onto Santa’s lap, he encouraged you to share your holiday wishes.

“I just want peace and quiet,” Bucky deadpanned, earning a chuckle from you.

Santa laughed heartily. “A man after my own heart! And you, young lady?”

You teased Bucky with a playful smile. “I wish for this guy to embrace the holiday spirit a little more.”

Bucky rolled his eyes teasingly, but a slight smirk played on his lips. The photographer captured the playful moment, freezing it as a cherished holiday keepsake.

Exiting the mall, Bucky couldn't help but feel grateful for the experience. You leaned into him with a happy sigh, and your warmth and infectious joy filled his heart.

"See, that wasn't so bad, was it, babe?" you teased.

Bucky chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "No, not bad at all, doll. Fun even. But hey," he pulled you close in the vacant parking lot, his firm grip on your hips contrasting with his sweet demeanor at the mall. "Next year, I'll be the one wearing the Santa hat, and then you can sit on my lap, completely naked, of course, and whisper all your wishes to me. And trust me, baby, I'll make them all come true."

Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

I don’t do taglists so please follow @bucky-barnes-diaries-library and turn on notifications to never miss out on my writing!

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simpforfandom231 · 3 months

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the Drug queen and the singer PT1

just a drug queen winning the heart of our reneé rapp.

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The dimly lit dressing room buzzed with an unexpected warmth as Y/n and Reneé continued their conversation, their laughter and shared stories creating an atmosphere of genuine connection. Y/n found herself captivated not only by Reneé's talent but also by her genuine and unassuming nature. Reneé, in turn, felt a magnetic pull towards Y/n, admiring the mysterious allure that surrounded the seemingly glamorous fan.

As the night unfolded, Y/n's initial intention to exploit the situation for her own gain began to waver. She found herself genuinely enjoying Reneé's company, and a sense of admiration grew for the young star who, in her eyes, represented a rare purity untouched by the darkness of the criminal world Y/n navigated.

Meanwhile, Reneé was equally entranced by Y/n's charisma and beauty. The cold exterior that Y/n presented to the world seemed to melt away in Reneé's presence, revealing a vulnerability that intrigued the rising star. The two women continued to share anecdotes, dreams, and the kind of laughter that resonates deep within the soul.

In the midst of this unexpected connection, a discreet figure approached Y/n, a seasoned bodyguard who operated in the shadows. He leaned in and whispered into Y/n's ear, "Boss, we've got a situation. One of our shipments got messed up, and the guy responsible is waiting at your house."

Y/n's eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing her face. She excused herself from Reneé with a charming smile, leaving the dressing room to address the urgent matter. The bodyguard followed her as they navigated the backstage corridors, blending into the shadows like ghosts.

"What happened?" Y/n asked in a hushed tone, her voice betraying a trace of irritation.

"The coordinates got mixed up, and the shipment ended up in the wrong hands. We've got the guy responsible – waiting for your orders," the bodyguard explained.

Y/n sighed, realizing the gravity of the situation. "Bring him to the usual place. I'll deal with him later."

With a nod, the bodyguard disappeared into the shadows, leaving Y/n to reflect on the duality of her life. The contrast between the thrilling world of crime and the unexpected connection she shared with Reneé left her contemplating the choices she had made.

Back in the dressing room, Reneé waited with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Y/n than met the eye, but the allure of the mysterious woman only deepened her fascination.

When Y/n returned, she wore her composed mask once more, concealing the turmoil within. Reneé, sensing the shift in atmosphere, inquired with concern, "Everything okay?"

Y/n smiled, a blend of reassurance and mystery. "Just some business to attend to. It comes with the territory, you know?"

As the night's echoes of applause gradually faded, Y/n felt the need to depart, reluctantly severing the unexpected connection with Reneé. With a subtle smile, she stood and said, "I hate to cut this short, but duty calls. It was truly a pleasure, Reneé."

Reneé, still basking in the afterglow of their conversation, nodded. "Likewise, Y/n. Don't be a stranger. Here, take my number. Maybe we can catch up sometime."

Y/n accepted the slip of paper, her eyes briefly meeting Reneé's. "I'll keep that in mind. Until next time."

With that, Y/n gracefully exited the dressing room, leaving behind a hint of mystery and the lingering warmth of their encounter. She disappeared into the shadows of the backstage area, the echoes of the concert hall fading into the background as she made her way to her million-dollar mansion.

Upon arriving at her opulent residence, Y/n swiftly entered the grand foyer, adorned with marble and art that masked the darker activities that unfolded beneath the surface. She ascended the winding staircase, heading to her private office where business and brutality coexisted.

Behind the polished wooden door, Y/n's demeanor transformed. Her once-charming smile vanished, replaced by an icy resolve that mirrored the coldhearted queenpin she truly was. Moving to an ornate bookshelf, she pressed a hidden button, revealing a concealed entrance to a secret room. A staircase led downward into the depths of her hidden empire.

The room at the bottom of the stairs was dimly lit, a stark contrast to the ostentation above. The guy responsible for the botched shipment sat bound to a chair, flanked by two imposing figures who served as Y/n's enforcers. The air in the room became charged with tension as Y/n descended, her every step echoing authority.

The captive's eyes widened with fear as Y/n entered, the temperature in the room dropping perceptibly. Y/n's cold, heartless facade was now on full display, the warmth she had shown earlier replaced by an unyielding resolve. She approached the captive, her gun glinting ominously in the low light.

"You messed up, and in my world, there are consequences," Y/n stated, her voice devoid of any warmth. The captive stammered, attempting to explain himself, but Y/n's gaze silenced him.

Without a flicker of hesitation, Y/n raised her gun, the room holding its breath in anticipation. A single shot echoed through the secret chamber, the deafening sound punctuating the end of the man's fate. Y/n's expression remained stoic, her coldhearted efficiency evident in the act.

However, as the life drained from the man's eyes, a drop of blood splattered onto Y/n's pristine clothes, momentarily marring the immaculate facade she maintained. An irritated expression flashed across her face, a rare glimpse of vulnerability in the face of imperfection.

Turning away from the lifeless figure, Y/n signaled to her enforcers. "Dispose of the body. Clean this mess up."

As they carried out her orders, Y/n ascended the staircase, leaving behind the chilling scene in the hidden chamber. Her demeanor reverted to its composed exterior, the encounter with Reneé a distant memory. The world of shadows and secrets swallowed her once more, leaving no trace of the ruthless queenpin behind the beautiful facade.

The memories of Y/n's turbulent past lingered in the corridors of her mind as she ascended the grand staircase in her mansion. At just 22 years old, she bore the weight of a legacy forged in blood and a determination to surpass even her father's lofty ambitions. The drug empire she now ruled had roots that stretched across the globe, and her reputation as a coldhearted, deadly queenpin preceded her in the criminal underworld.

Her father, the once-revered kingpin, had met his demise at the hands of a ruthless archenemy when Y/n was just a girl. The tragedy had forced her into the criminal world at an age when most were navigating high school dramas. Yet, she embraced the role with a maturity far beyond her years, stepping into her father's shoes at the tender age of 16.

Y/n's network was vast and intricate. More than 600 dealers operated under her command, but she reserved her trust for only a select few. Eight high-end dealers were her confidantes, her partners in crime. Together, they orchestrated the grand schemes that contributed to the millions flowing into Y/n's coffers each month.

Known as a force to be reckoned with, Y/n's name echoed through the shadows of the criminal underworld. Those who crossed her were met with swift and merciless retribution. She had built a reputation that demanded respect, and even the most seasoned criminals tred carefully around the queenpin.

As she settled into her office, the opulence of her surroundings starkly contrasting with the brutality of her world, Y/n couldn't shake the thought of Reneé Rapp. The rising star's purity and warmth were like a flicker of light in the darkness that enveloped Y/n's life. She pondered the idea of having someone genuine in her world, someone untouched by the shadows that consumed her.

Y/n had always been drawn to women, and blondes held a particular allure for her. The image of Reneé's golden locks and genuine smile lingered in her mind. The thought of having the young star as more than just an acquaintance played at the edges of her thoughts, but something restrained her from pursuing it further. Perhaps it was a desire to preserve the purity she saw in Reneé, or maybe it was the fear of tainting the one person who seemed untouched by the harsh realities of her world.

The enigmatic queenpin found herself at a crossroads, torn between the ruthlessness required to maintain her empire and the yearning for something more. As she gazed out of the window of her lavish office, the city lights below twinkling like stars in the night, Y/n's mind swirled with conflicting emotions.

The allure of power and control had been her guiding force since childhood, but the unexpected encounter with Reneé had stirred a dormant longing for connection. Y/n, though coldhearted and dangerous, felt the tiniest spark of vulnerability within, a longing for something that transcended the brutality of her world.

As the night continued to unfold, Y/n's thoughts remained entangled in the complexities of her emotions. The world outside her office continued to revolve in shadows and secrets, but within the enigmatic queenpin, a quiet storm of conflicting desires brewed. The question lingered – would she allow herself the luxury of a connection with someone as pure as Reneé, or would the queenpin within prevail, keeping her locked in the ironclad fortress she had built around her heart?

The next morning dawned with the sun casting a warm glow across the sprawling estate of Y/n's mansion. Seated in the lavish dining room, Y/n indulged in a breakfast spread fit for royalty. The crisp morning air filled the room, carrying the scent of freshly brewed coffee and decadent pastries.

Amid the opulent surroundings, Y/n's fingers danced effortlessly over her phone, typing out a message to Reneé. "Hey, Reneé. How about dinner at my place tonight? I've got a chef who can whip up anything you desire. What do you say?"

As Y/n awaited a response, she continued her morning routine, multitasking with the ease of someone accustomed to the demanding pace of a high-stakes life. The melody of a hauntingly beautiful classical piece filled the room, the perfect backdrop to the queenpin's morning rituals.

Despite the luxurious setting, Y/n's focus shifted seamlessly to the less glamorous aspects of her life – the endless paperwork, the orchestrations of illicit activities that kept her empire running smoothly. In her world, breakfast was not only a time for culinary indulgence but also an opportunity to strategize and ensure the perpetuation of her dominion.

Just as the rhythmic typing of Y/n's fingers on the keyboard seemed to blend with the haunting symphony, the peace was momentarily shattered by the entrance of three formidable Dobbermans. Muscly, dark, and brown, Brutus, Hades, and Onyx exuded an intimidating presence. Their ferocious appearance, however, belied the affectionate nature that they reserved solely for their owner.

Y/n's stern expression softened into a smile as the trio bounded into the room, their tails wagging excitedly. "Well, look who's back from their morning stroll with the nanny," Y/n remarked, reaching down to ruffle the fur of each dog. The Dobbermans responded with joyful barks, their loyalty to Y/n evident in their expressive eyes.

Brutus, the largest of the pack, nuzzled against Y/n's leg, while Hades and Onyx eagerly awaited their turn for attention. The queenpin's connection with her dogs provided a rare glimpse into a softer side of her character, a side that few had the privilege of witnessing.

As Y/n continued to lavish affection on her canine companions, her phone buzzed with a response from Reneé. "Dinner at your place sounds amazing! Can't wait. What time?"

A smirk played on Y/n's lips as she replied, "I'll have my driver pick you up at 7. Dress nice. It's a special place."

As the morning unfolded, Y/n's mansion buzzed with activity. The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting golden hues across the lavish estate. Still engrossed in her world of power and luxury, Y/n received a text from Reneé, curiosity lacing the singer's words.

"Why do you have a chauffeur? I thought you were, like, a teen," Reneé's message read.

Y/n, maintaining her enigmatic persona even over text, replied, "Appearances can be deceiving. It's just more convenient. My life requires certain... arrangements."

Reneé's confusion lingered in the virtual exchange, but Y/n felt no obligation to reveal the intricacies of her complex existence. She reveled in the mystery that surrounded her, a mystery that had been meticulously crafted over years of navigating the treacherous waters of the criminal underworld.

As the clock neared 10 in the morning, Y/n decided to get ready for the day. Her dogs, Brutus, Hades, and Onyx, were her constant companions, shadowing her every move. Their protective instincts were evident as they followed her from room to room, an intimidating trio that mirrored the formidable queenpin they guarded.

Dressed in an elegant yet business-like ensemble, Y/n exuded an air of authority. Her attire, a calculated blend of sophistication and intimidation, reflected the duality of her existence. The Dobbermans, ever vigilant, flanked her as she made her way to the sleek black car waiting in the driveway.

The chauffeur, a stoic figure who had served Y/n faithfully, opened the door, and she slid into the back seat with practiced grace. The dogs settled beside her, their watchful eyes scanning the surroundings for any potential threats.

The car navigated through the city, the sleek exterior concealing the queenpin within. Y/n's thoughts, however, were already shifting to the impending meeting at noon. A potential client, eager to enter the lucrative world she presided over, awaited her judgment. The anticipation of sealing a deal, the negotiations that would unfold, fueled a spark of excitement in Y/n's otherwise stoic demeanor.

As the chauffeur skillfully maneuvered through the city's labyrinth of streets, Y/n exchanged a few more messages with Reneé. "Looking forward to tonight," she typed, her tone retaining its confident and somewhat aloof air.

By the time the clock struck noon, the car arrived at a discreet location, a high-end restaurant chosen for its privacy. Y/n stepped out, the dogs at her side, their imposing presence turning heads as they entered the establishment.

The meeting unfolded in the dimly lit ambiance of the restaurant, a dance of words and unspoken agreements. Y/n's business acumen, honed through years of ruthless negotiations, shone through as she navigated the delicate balance of power. The potential client left, seemingly satisfied, leaving Y/n to her thoughts.

As the afternoon sun bathed the city in a warm glow, Y/n couldn't help but look forward to the evening ahead. A dinner with Reneé Rapp, a star whose light seemed to pierce the darkness that enveloped Y/n's life. The contrast between the ruthless dealings of her daytime world and the potential for connection with someone as pure as Reneé added a layer of complexity to the queenpin's existence.

The predawn silence draped Y/n's mansion like a velvet curtain. The grandeur of the luxurious residence, adorned with opulent furnishings, stood in stark contrast to the darkness that still lingered outside. As the clock struck 5 AM, Y/n, clad in an impeccably tailored suit, began the meticulous process of preparing for the evening that lay ahead.

Her expansive bathroom, complete with marble countertops and gilded fixtures, provided a backdrop to the queenpin's morning routine. The soft glow of the vanity lights illuminated Y/n's stoic reflection as she applied makeup with precision, her thoughts drifting between the upcoming dinner with Reneé and the formidable empire she presided over.

Her home was a fortress, guarded by vigilant bodyguards who maintained a constant watch over the premises. The imposing figures moved with silent efficiency, shadows in the periphery, protecting the queenpin and her empire from any potential threats that lurked in the darkness.

The dogs, Brutus, Hades, and Onyx, were never far from Y/n's side. Their loyal presence provided a rare source of comfort in the otherwise solitary life she led. The imposing trio followed Y/n through the mansion, their watchful eyes scanning every corner, every room, ensuring that no intruders threatened their owner's sanctuary.

Y/n's fingers moved with practiced grace as she fastened the cufflinks on her suit, her mind already shifting to the final preparations for the evening. The luxury of her attire mirrored the power she exuded, a queenpin preparing to meet the rising star who had unwittingly entered her orbit.

As the clock ticked towards 6:40, the designated time for Reneé's pick-up, Y/n received a text from the singer. "Just got picked up. Excited for tonight!"

A subtle smirk played on Y/n's lips as she replied, "See you at 7.

In the midst of her final preparations, a knock echoed on the door. Micheal, the right hand of Y/n and a figure who had known her since childhood, stood outside. His presence held a certain fatherly warmth that contrasted with the cold exterior Y/n presented to the world.

Micheal had been loyal to Y/n's father, and upon his demise, he seamlessly transitioned into a fatherly figure for the young queenpin. He understood the complexities of her dual existence – the ruthless leader in the criminal underworld and the vulnerable girl who had lost her family.

"Y/n, my dear, may I come in?" Micheal's voice carried a gentle cadence, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of their world.

Y/n nodded, and he entered the room, his eyes filled with a mixture of concern and affection. "You look stunning, as always. Your father would be proud."

A rare smile touched Y/n's lips at the mention of her father. "Thank you, Micheal. Tonight is important. I need everything to go smoothly."

Micheal, ever the fatherly confidante, offered words of reassurance. "You've got this, my dear. Reneé is a lucky one. Just be yourself."

As the minutes ticked away, Y/n's mansion bustled with activity. The dogs, now alert and aware of the impending departure, trailed behind Y/n as she made her way to the waiting car. The chauffeur, a stoic presence who had become a silent witness to Y/n's clandestine life, opened the door, and the queenpin entered, the dogs settling in beside her.

The journey to pick up Reneé unfolded in the quiet hum of the car engine. The anticipation in the air was palpable as Y/n's thoughts oscillated between the masked elegance of her public life and the quiet vulnerability she shared with Micheal.

As the chauffeur steered onto the grand driveway, the opulence of Y/n's mansion loomed ahead. The luxurious estate, bathed in the early evening glow, exuded an air of mystique that seemed to seep into the very foundations of the structure. Y/n, flanked by her three formidable Dobbermans, stood on the porch, her presence commanding attention and respect.

Meanwhile, the atmosphere inside the mansion had taken a sudden turn. The call from Fernando, one of Y/n's trusted high-level employees, had disrupted the calm before Reneé's arrival. The news of Mario's betrayal, the stolen shipments, and the murder of a lower-tier dealer reverberated through the mansion's walls. Micheal, acting swiftly, gave a nod to an undercover operative, instructing him to investigate and retrieve the stolen drugs.

As the chauffeur expertly brought the car to a halt, Y/n remained composed on the porch, her eyes betraying none of the turmoil within. The three Dobbermans, sensing an unfamiliar presence, stood poised and vigilant, their muscles taut. Micheal, adopting a protective stance, stood slightly behind Y/n, ready to intervene if the situation took an unexpected turn.

The door of the sleek car swung open, revealing Reneé in all her elegant glory. The singer, adorned in a sophisticated dress that complemented the grandeur of the mansion, stepped out, momentarily caught off guard by the imposing figures before her.

The chauffeur maintained a stoic expression, though the tension in the air was palpable. Reneé, while impressed by the three regal Dobbermans, couldn't help but feel a shiver of intimidation as her eyes met Y/n's. The queenpin, standing in beautiful attire, emanated a complex blend of icy determination, warmth, and an underlying current of coldness.

"Welcome, Reneé," Y/n greeted, her tone a calculated mix of courtesy and control. Her piercing gaze bore into Reneé's, assessing the singer's reactions to the unexpected display of security and the grandeur of the mansion.

Reneé, though momentarily taken aback, composed herself and responded with a polite smile. "Thank you for having me, Y/n. Your place is incredible, and your dogs are... impressive."

Y/n acknowledged the compliment with a nod, the dogs maintaining their watchful stance. "They serve their purpose," she remarked cryptically.

As the two women stood on the porch, the facade of cordiality belied the underlying currents of tension and intrigue that swirled around them. Unbeknownst to Reneé, the mansion held secrets within its walls, and Y/n's carefully constructed world was teetering on the edge of unraveling.

Micheal, his watchful eyes surveying the scene, subtly signaled to the undercover operative, who discreetly slipped away to carry out the investigation into Mario's betrayal. The wheels of the criminal empire turned even as Y/n welcomed Reneé into the enigmatic world that lay beyond the mansion's façade.

Y/n extended her hand, a silent invitation for Reneé to enter the grandeur that lay beyond the mansion's threshold. As they stepped inside, the opulence enveloped them, the air infused with a sense of mystery and power that lingered within the walls. The door closed behind them, shutting out the last vestiges of the evening breeze.

Once inside, Y/n gracefully let go of Reneé's hand, her demeanor unchanged. The singer, momentarily caught in the transition from the exterior world to the secrets held within, took in her surroundings with a blend of awe and trepidation.

However, before the evening could progress, Micheal stepped forward, an unwavering figure blocking Reneé's path. Y/n, her gaze never wavering, observed the unfolding scene with a calm demeanor.

"Sorry, Miss Rapp," Micheal's tone was firm but respectful, "It's just protocol. We need to ensure everyone's safety, including yours."

Reneé, slightly taken aback, nodded hesitantly. "Of course, I understand. Safety first."

The dogs, Brutus, Hades, and Onyx, stood steadfastly by Y/n's side, their watchful eyes fixed on Reneé. The singer, acutely aware of the imposing figures, felt a ripple of unease but masked it with a polite smile.

Y/n, watching the proceedings with an unreadable expression, spoke, "Micheal, make it quick."

Micheal nodded in acknowledgment, his demeanor retaining the fatherly concern he often displayed towards Y/n. "Of course, Y/n. Just a routine check."

As Reneé underwent the necessary security measures, Y/n's eyes followed the process closely. The tension in the air seemed to thicken, a palpable undercurrent beneath the veneer of hospitality.

Once the protocol was complete, Micheal stepped back, offering a reassuring smile to Reneé. "Thank you for your understanding, Miss Rapp. Please, follow me. Y/n will join you shortly."

Y/n, still standing in the foyer, observed Reneé with a composed expression. "I won't be long," she assured the singer.

As Reneé and Micheal navigated the mansion's corridors, the echoes of their footsteps mingling with the subtle tension that hung in the air, Y/n remained in the foyer with her loyal Dobbermans. The dogs, though imposing, had been trained to discern threats from guests, and their watchful gaze softened in the presence of their owner's assurance.

The atmosphere in the mansion seemed to shift, the enigmatic undercurrents of Y/n's world becoming more pronounced. Unbeknownst to Reneé, the unfolding events were an intricate dance within the delicate balance of power and secrets that defined Y/n's life.

As Micheal led Reneé through the luxurious corridors of Y/n's mansion, the grandeur of the surroundings seemed to envelop the singer. The soft glow of ambient lighting, the intricacies of the artwork adorning the walls, all created an atmosphere of elegance that contrasted sharply with the covert activities unfolding behind the scenes.

The journey led them to the opulent dinner room, a space where secrets were often concealed beneath the veneer of sophistication. Micheal, ever the composed guide, pulled out a chair for Reneé with a courteous gesture. "Please, make yourself comfortable, Miss Rapp. Y/n will join you shortly."

As Reneé took her seat, a subtle command from Micheal summoned one of the Dobbermans, Hades, to stay by the singer's side. The dog, a guardian with an imposing presence, settled near Reneé, its watchful eyes scanning the room.

Meanwhile, in another part of the mansion, Y/n's irritation simmered beneath the surface. The news that the stolen drugs hadn't been recovered intensified the queenpin's frustration. The empire she had meticulously built rested on a delicate balance, and any disruption to that equilibrium demanded swift and decisive action.

Micheal, sensing Y/n's growing impatience, approached cautiously. "Y/n, we're doing everything we can to locate Mario and the missing shipments. The investigation is underway."

Y/n, her icy gaze fixed on the reports before her, replied tersely, "I don't need reassurances, Micheal. I need results."

The queenpin's irritation was palpable, the unyielding force that had propelled her to the pinnacle of the criminal world now focused on the betrayal within her own ranks. The intricate network of dealers, the empire spanning continents, all hung in the balance as Y/n awaited news of the retrieval of the stolen drugs.

As time ticked away, Y/n's mind raced through scenarios and contingencies. The clandestine world she navigated required a keen sense of strategy, and the unexpected turn of events threatened to unravel the delicate threads that held her empire together.

Back in the dinner room, Reneé, unaware of the unfolding drama, admired the elegance of her surroundings, albeit tinged with a hint of unease. The presence of the Dobberman, Hades, brought a mixture of reassurance and apprehension as the singer waited for Y/n to join her.

Y/n entered the dinner room with a calculated grace, flanked by the imposing figures of Brutus and Onyx, who had joined Hades to form a trio of vigilant guardians. The Dobbermans, now stationed strategically by different doors, exuded an air of authority that seemed to permeate the very essence of the room.

Reneé, seated at the elegantly set table, looked up as Y/n entered. The subtle shift in the atmosphere did not go unnoticed by the singer, and concern flickered in her eyes. "Is everything okay?" she inquired, her gaze meeting Y/n's with a mixture of curiosity and genuine concern.

Y/n, maintaining a composed facade, offered a reassuring smile. "Just some business matters that needed attending. Nothing for you to worry about, Reneé."

The Dobbermans, now positioned at each door, stood sentinel, their watchful eyes scanning the surroundings. The air in the room seemed to carry a sense of both protection and an unspoken understanding of the shadows that lurked beyond the luxurious facade.

With a graceful gesture, Y/n took her seat at the table. "Shall we begin?" she suggested, her icy gaze meeting Reneé's with a mix of warmth and reserve.

As the evening unfolded, Y/n, the enigmatic queenpin, seamlessly transitioned between topics that straddled the worlds of glamour and intrigue. Reneé, drawn into the conversation, found herself navigating a labyrinth of tales that hinted at the complexities of Y/n's life.

Amidst the exchange of stories and laughter, Y/n extended an offer, "Would you like a drink, Reneé? I have an impressive collection."

Reneé, glancing at the array of bottles displayed in the ornate bar, smiled appreciatively. "Sure, surprise me."

Y/n, ever the master of her domain, selected a bottle with a certain finesse, pouring a drink that matched the sophistication of the setting. As the glasses clinked in a silent toast, the two women found themselves in a delicate dance of words and revelations.

The Dobbermans, ever vigilant, maintained their watchful stance, a silent reminder of the intricate world that surrounded Y/n. The enigmatic queenpin, her gaze a captivating mix of icy resolve and hidden vulnerability, navigated the evening with a precision that betrayed none of the turmoil within.

As the night progressed, Y/n and Reneé discovered common ground amid the contrasts of their lives. The opulence of the mansion, the imposing presence of the Dobbermans, and the threads of connection that wove through the intricate tapestry of their encounter set the stage for a night that blurred the lines between starlight and shadows.

Yet, beneath the surface, the echoes of the investigation and the unresolved tension lingered. The stolen drugs remained a specter that cast its shadow over the enigmatic world Y/n inhabited. As the evening unfolded, the mysteries that bound Y/n and Reneé together continued to unravel, revealing a story that defied the conventional boundaries of glamour and danger.

The dinner table, adorned with fine china and glistening silverware, became a stage for the unfolding drama between Y/n and Reneé. The atmosphere was a delicate balance of sophistication and unspoken tension as they navigated the array of exquisitely prepared dishes.

Y/n, orchestrating the evening with a poise that belied the complexities of her world, engaged Reneé in a dance of conversation. The queenpin effortlessly guided the discourse through topics that ranged from the intricacies of art to the mysteries of the night sky.

Reneé, equally skilled in the art of conversation, found herself captivated by the enigmatic stories Y/n wove. The grandeur of the mansion, the presence of the Dobbermans, and the aura of power that surrounded Y/n added layers of mystique to the evening.

As the courses progressed, Y/n revealed glimpses of her multifaceted life, carefully navigating the delicate balance of sharing without exposing the shadows that lurked beneath. The singer, drawn into the narrative, felt a mixture of awe and trepidation as the queenpin's tales unfolded like chapters in an unending saga.

The Dobbermans, stationed at each door, remained a silent testament to the dichotomy of Y/n's existence. Their watchful eyes seemed to mirror the undercurrents that pulsed through the mansion – a convergence of elegance and danger.

Amid the exchange of stories, Y/n's mind subtly probed for insights into Reneé's life. The singer, though guarded, offered glimpses of her journey in the spotlight, the challenges of fame, and the pursuit of authenticity in a world that often demanded conformity.

As the dinner conversation ebbed and flowed, the stolen drugs remained an unspoken specter that lingered in the shadows. Y/n, her thoughts momentarily drawn to the unresolved matter, skillfully steered the discourse away, concealing the intricacies of her empire.

The clinking of glasses, the soft murmur of conversation, and the tantalizing aroma of the gourmet dishes created a tapestry of sensory experiences. The night, once fraught with anticipation, now unfolded as a tableau of connection and contradiction.

In the midst of the elegance, a subtle tension lingered beneath the surface. The complexities of Y/n's life, the secrets that defined her, and the unspoken desires that echoed in the mansion's corridors added layers of suspense to the evening.

As the dessert course arrived, Y/n, with a hint of a mysterious smile, proposed a toast. "To unexpected connections," she raised her glass, her eyes locking onto Reneé's.

"To unexpected connections," Reneé echoed, a blend of curiosity and warmth in her gaze.

The dessert course had just been served, and the air in the dining room hung heavy with the sweet aroma of decadent treats. Y/n and Reneé continued their conversation, the lingering tension of the night infused with the delicate flavors of the delicacies before them.

In the midst of the exchange, Micheal entered the room with a quiet urgency. He approached Y/n, leaning in to whisper discreetly, "We've found the stolen drugs, and the culprits are in custody. They're waiting for your command."

Y/n, maintaining her composed exterior, nodded imperceptibly. The news was a welcome relief, and she excused herself gracefully from the table. As she made her way to the hidden room where the captives awaited, Reneé's curiosity stirred.

"What's happening?" Reneé inquired, her gaze following Y/n's departure.

Micheal, his fatherly concern etched on his face, replied smoothly, "Just a minor issue that requires Y/n's attention. Nothing for you to worry about, Miss Rapp."

However, Reneé, a mix of curiosity and intrigue fuelling her, decided to explore. Guided by the echoes of Y/n's presence, she wandered through the mansion, eventually stumbling upon a concealed door that seemed to beckon her curiosity.

As Y/n entered the hidden room, Reneé, unseen, peered through the slightly ajar door. The room revealed itself as a stark contrast to the opulence of the mansion – a clandestine space that exuded an air of danger. Y/n, now in her element, spoke with a cold, calculated demeanor as she interrogated the captives.

Reneé, wide-eyed and silent, observed the scene with a mixture of shock and fascination. The revelation of Y/n's dual existence unfolded before her eyes, leaving her breathless with the realization of the darkness that lurked beneath the queenpin's glamorous facade.

As Y/n expertly extracted information from the captives, employing both verbal prowess and physical prowess, Reneé struggled to reconcile the images before her with the sophisticated woman she had shared the evening with.

The tension in the room escalated, the coldness in Y/n's voice sending shivers down Reneé's spine. The singer, now a witness to a world she had never fathomed, grappled with the dichotomy of the person before her.

Unbeknownst to Reneé, Micheal, vigilant as ever, caught sight of her presence. With a swift and silent gesture, he signaled another bodyguard to discreetly escort Reneé away from the hidden room.

Just as Reneé attempted to retreat, she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. "Miss Rapp, perhaps it's best if you return to the dining room. This is a part of Y/n's world that doesn't concern you," the bodyguard advised, guiding her away from the unfolding scene.

Reneé, her mind racing with the shock of discovery, reluctantly followed the bodyguard's lead. The dining room, now devoid of Y/n's presence, seemed to echo with the weight of the unspoken secrets that lingered within the mansion's walls.

As Reneé settled back into her seat, her gaze was haunted by the images she had witnessed. The enigmatic allure of Y/n now held an added layer of complexity, leaving Reneé grappling with the revelation of the queenpin's chilling capabilities.

The night, once teeming with the promise of unexpected connections, now unfolded as a tapestry woven with threads of darkness and intrigue. The echoes of Y/n's actions in the hidden room reverberated through the mansion, casting a shadow over the starlit evening and leaving Reneé with a newfound understanding of the enigmatic world she had inadvertently stepped into.

#renee rapp x reader #reneé rapp x reader #renee rapp #reneé rapp x fem!reader #renee rapp x fem!reader #reneé rapp #fandom #fanfic

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psychelis-new · 8 months

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pick a pile: "Your true colors - (4/7) Green"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read a message for you from the color green, the fourth of the 7 rainbow's colors. in this serie of readings about the rainbow's colors, I will try to channel about your true colors, so to help you look inside and see your most beautiful self, appreciate yourself more and hopefully provide some type of guidance if necessary. as cindy lauper would say: "your true colors are beautiful like a rainbow", so let's look at them and hear what they have to say to you and how they (you) can help you look at things in a more positive way.

green is the color of healing, balance, peace, abundance, hope, money, growth, love, connection, surrender, trust (heart chakra)... in this reading, I'll try to analyze this side of your character.

you can find the other colors' readings in the pacs list in my pinned post

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

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pile 1

It feels like you've been waiting for something for a lot of time now. It could be love or connections, it could be a good stable career (and income), it could be also "feeling healed". About this last point let me add this reminder that healing is about finding a way to react in an healthier way to your possible triggers (yes, there may still be some here and there, but it doesn't mean you're not succeeding at what you do: pay attention to how differently you are reacting compared with the past. Maybe you are not spiralling so easily as before or maybe you're recognizing what's behind your trigger: that's a sign you're doing your healing right. I know it feels like it's never ending, but the moment you'll find a balance and not let yourself get discouraged by each fallback you may encounter, that's the moment you'll understand for real what I -well, many psychologists- mean. Take it slow). I feel you may even get envious of others having (apparently/easily) what you are trying so hard to obtain but seem to not be able to. You may be comparing yourself with others too (please, don't... you're your own type of special, don't lose sight of this truth). I think your heart is also suggesting you to calm down and wait, to not be too impatient. You are a very loving, kind, gentle soul, and ofc you (even unconsciously) feel like you deserve something back (you indeed do!!) but... it seems you're getting the absence of positive immediate signs (or even supposedly slightly negative signs -which may be just tests or corrections in your journey) as a huge NO from Universe. Tbh the more you keep asking for a sign, for something tangible, the more you are giving space for uncertainty and self doubts and ruining your manifestations (not saying it's not human at all, we all go there and it's okay. But try to stay as much as you can connected with your positivity, without avoiding paying attention to the negative side of your life: nobody wants toxic positivity ofc). I think you are asked to give yourself time and space. To enjoy the show, somehow (even if yes, it may sound bittersweet at first but it's more like... "let things flow/go", trust).

You may also not be giving your heart the right time and space to heal something. Or you're not paying real attention to something: maybe you feel you have healed your problem and got over it but it's not entirely so: you may even get dreams or other impulses from your mind about this. Our minds tend to recall what our hearts haven't healed fully, so if you think/dream about someone or something and it makes you overwhelmed or nervous/scared, chances are you need to still work on that a little more to get over it and leave space for new and better things to come. You are someone who rarely gives up but ofc, as every human does, sometimes you may feel disheartened. We all have dark periods when things get harder: when these happens try to reconnect with your heart (and take care of it, maybe putting your hands over your heart chakra and sending it love could help you too). You are such an hopeful and positive (maybe with others more than yourself... try to include yourself too) and also an abundant person, you just need to remind this yourself and put this type of energy into the Universe, so that the magic can happen and you can get more. Keep believing in your abilities and in yourself. And that you deserve so much more. I think the Universe is giving you some kind of feeling in this sense, like your intuition may be telling you to not give up to the dark but to just be patient a bit more (despite those darker days) cause bigger things are being prepared just for you, so yeah trust it. Trust yourself and your heart. You're not asking for too much anyway, but big things and changes (like going the opposite way from what you're used, like even changing your mental pattern) require a bigger amount of time. I think for many of you it's about love (even self love tbh or any other type of connection you have experienced: romantic, friendship, family...), maybe you need to heal/grieve and get over a past connection (situation/feeling) to get a new and possibly better one. I just read this by chance and its fitting so I guess it's for you: "Give yourself the permission to heal the same thing more than once". Allow yourself the same kindness and time respect you allow others.

song: hypnotized | purple disco machine, sophie and the giants (highly recommend reading the lyrics)

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pile 2

Your pile is giving me a hard time (luv ya). It feels like you don't want to let me in... maybe you tend to close off to others in general. I think you may have been through something big in the past (abandonment wounds more likely, someone left you out of the blue or you couldn't really trust people being there for you to help you when you needed them) and now you simply fear letting people in (it'd mean let them hurt you once again ofc). Some bits of you though may be starting to occasionally pour out of you, some even without control (your inner child wants more attention prolly)... maybe you are unconsciously trying to still be in touch with others, to connect more (we're humans, we need connections). I bet you feel alone these days, and I am sorry. Probably your heart still wants you to let down your walls or build some window, so to see if it's worthy to let someone in... maybe. I guess in love (any type) we have to take the risk of trusting others, of being vulnerable and letting them in. I think love (again any type) is our conscious choice to give someone else the power to hurt us... but still it's up on us to stop that hurt when we start to feel it. And talk about it before it gets too much, do not pretend things are always fine and you can take it all. There's such an overflow of emotions from you... You are abundant of love (or miss it so bad, no in between), you cannot keep it inside anymore and you're searching for something or someone to be able to take it all in and free you from that abundance (and give you back as much too and stop that lack, despite many of you mostly need to give). But maybe you fear being rejected and accused of being too much or hard to handle. Beware that yes, not everyone may be ready to be overwhelmed by your love or requests (as you may ofc not be ready to give it to someone since day 1), so just take things slow and talk. Remember also that some people may not be able to handle their own emotions to start with, so when you pour yours onto them, they may get overwhelmed and project onto you their fears and accuse you of being what you're not: "too much". We're all different, but it doesn't mean it cannot work (at least not always: it depends on the specific people involved). What I feel like telling you is... trust your intuition: it will guide you to the right people and places. You don't have to do it all alone, you don't have to stay alone... just take time to get used again with sharing and slowly letting down your walls. Not everyone is here to hurt you, and you can trust yourself in being able to recognize such people anyway and close them off, while letting others who deserve in. You're really full of love anyway... I don't have any other way to explain this. Your energy is so lovely. Maybe get a plant or a puppy, start pouring your love onto them, they will ofc receive it all happily and give back in their own way (a plant growing healthily and giving you flowers or even fruits, if applies, or having pretty shining green leaves is its way to tell you "thank you, ily").

This said, I do think you need to meditate and take some time to talk with your heart, decide what you can compromise on and what not (at least in the beginning, when starting reconnecting with others) and things like that. To meet the type of people you want to meet and deserve to meet, and get what you want, you need to be more open and even start going to search for them also in places you may not be considering atm (be the first one starting a convo if you want; don't always wait for others: maybe you both are waiting for the other so... try. If they "reject" you, it doesn't have to be you the cause of this rejection. It could be their "problem" too or that we're simply not made for everyone as not everyone is made for us). We can find different people in different places, even where we would never go (sometimes we are convinced we don't like something/someone but if we gave ourself the chance to try, we may even change our mind). Trust your guts for this, let yourself be called even by things you probably would have never considered joining or doing before (to get a different result, we need to do something different and it works for people too: not just in the way we act but also in the places we go to, a change can be needed and bring success). Idk why I am suddenly thinking about work with you. Maybe you want to change job or are moving somewhere else? That's good: changing, meeting different people and/or cultures may totally help you get a different approach in your life too and realize better your needs and that not everyone is the same ever in the world (you don't have to go the distance to see this btw). Totally give it a shot (confirmation, if you need: a change -probably even just in behaviour/routine or anything- may bring you wealth too not just in connections but money as well). My nose is itching so bad with you, probably you'll get some important download about what you'll have to do soon to get what you want, maybe even a dream or sign or something. You may be feeling lost so... yeah, this download will help you in your journey. Just let yourself get out more, even physically out of your home not just out of your own cage you have buildt inside around your heart. Let yourself be seen and found. You can survive anything, you have yourself, be sure of that. And anyway, you won't be alone forever. You can change this, your people are waiting for you (I literally had to check the time like yeah... it's time, come on!). Ofc keep trying to heal the reasons behind whatever is that is blocking you or caused you to cage yourself. Maybe for some of you healing will happen or improve when you'll meet other people, so it's fine if for now you don't feel like going too deep. It will happen at the right time, trust your own guidance.

song: basic instinct | the acid; running mate | lemolo (got called by both, so yeah.. you're lucky pile 2 ;) )

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pile 3

You are someone not scared of putting in hard work in order to get something you want. And I think you also have a very good mind that supports you in taking the right decisions or at least not giving up at the first obstacles or difficulties. I think you know it's okay to be a learner at first (and anyway, everyone is, and your heart knows this well) because you know you can see your results whenever you put effort into what you do. Things come easily to you, especially when you create this magic connection and balance between your light, heart/love and soul. When you connect really with your core center, and realize you are working for something you really deeply want and desire, you know you can do anything and go through anything. You change, adapt, grow, and always get to see abundance/success or attract it in your life. Or get to its side. Somehow though, and that's normal, at times you may get tired of always having to put in so much effort in all you do. At times you may be wondering if you're doing it all right and for something, or if you're actually being seen. I do think you are not being seen and appreciated that often to be honest, and this can cause you some self worth doubts. Maybe the people around you do not really give you feedback as much as you'd like... maybe you had to grow up and always had to work hard and get many positive results in order to get praised by your caregivers or others (contrary to others around you: you felt you had to put in a double effort to get the same kind of appreciation -it wasn't you the "wrong" one anyway, js), and this habit stayed with you. It helped you feel included and appreciated. You probably wear/wore masks sometimes or with someone and you kinda lost yourself in the process (or cause you focused mostly on your material life for long). But your heart knows that's not what is all about. You don't have to do anything in particular to be loved and appreciated, you only need to be you. I also think you need to work only on what you really want for yourself (mentioned above), not for others: you're caring and nice but, you're here for you and if you have to overwork to be seen... that's not good. Ofc to do this, you need to start a journey of getting back to yourself and knowing yourself again. You may have people pleasing tendencies and need to do what others require you to do, but that's not always what you want to do too. Try choosing with your heart and set up some boundaries. Protect your purity and energy from anything evil that may try to get your best and use your abilities and talents only to your own personal advantage. I think your career/grades will get better the moment you start doing this too (ofc, for those who can resonate).

Your heart is probably tired of not being acknowledged for who you really are, of being taken for granted... I feel like you may be thinking of giving up sometimes. Maybe you also had to be the responsible one since a young age, to almost parent your caregivers and they often came to you for support or you had to take decisions you didn't want to take. I perceive sadness around you and I'm very sorry. A heavy heart. Don't give up, please. Not yet. Ofc, take a break but don't give up entirely, especially if there's something you really want to do. Know you can always ask for support to others, even professional figures and you can take back what's yours and who you are. You can start again and start from yourself and who you really are. And you can even get away from whatever is hurting you if you need that. I do think you need peace most and foremost... You have worked too hard for too long, you felt in charge so many times and you did so much you didn't want to do. Now it's time to take a vacation (real or mental and emotional, at least) and relax your mind and heart. Heal your heart and then start your own personal journey. You have learned so much through these experiences, you know your worth and you know you can always make it and survive, so you know you're invincible. I don't have to be the one telling you for sure. ;) Just don't give up now even if your heart feels so tired. Better connections, people that will see you for who you are for real and appreciate you, will come in your life. Find yourself again. I do think there's a real lot in front of you to still be uncovered, and maybe also inside of you. A huge new (balanced) world you'll love and that will bring you so much more. You're still under construction, so keep building yourself up. I am seeing a cocoon/embryo, so yeah, it pairs with the green lemon in your photo too.

song: you are enough | sleeping at last

#pac #pick a pile #pick a card tarot #pick a card reading #pick a picture #pick a photo #pick a card #pac reading #divination #clairs readings #psychic readings #free tarot reading #tarot readings #pac tarot #tarotblr #intuitive readings #intuition #tarot reading

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call-sign-shark · 7 months

Text

Heaven in Your Eyes || Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC

Summary: Danger lurks in every corner of Small Heath now, a place in which you're forced to stay. A place where Changretta and Section D are ready to get you. As you're trying to work things out with Arthur following your violent argument, Polly tells you something that will definitely complicate your role in the Vendetta.

Words: 6.8k

TW: Angst, mention of drug use, canonical violence, mention of murder, mention of self-harm, co-dependent relationship, grieving.

Notes:

✞ This is chapter 13 of the Arthur Shelby x You series Heaven in Your Eyes. Each chapter can be read as stand-alone but reading the whole series will make the experience far more intense and better.

✞ Quite a long chapter I admit, certainly the longer. The future chapters won't be as long I swear -- it's just that there was a lot of small "plot twists".

✞ Lucy is @emotionalcadaver's OC.

PREVIOUS || Masterlist || NEXT

The thick fog of the night danced in front of the car’s headlights, swirling at the wind’s discretion. The driver, keeping an eagle eye on your dainty silhouette, had started the engine as soon as he saw you storming out of your house, disheveled and crying. He only waited five seconds before driving at a very slow pace, scanning the misty streets of foul-smelling Small Heath to find you. For a short while, he was convinced you had managed to escape from his watch and, admittedly, the persistent fog only complicated the task further. “Fucking bitch”, he pestered, turning left on the next street as the car’s wheels squealed against the wet concrete of the road but you didn’t hear, far too deafened by the unremitting drumming of your own heart. You stopped your race near a field, and sat on a small wall, feeling your body wear out now that the adrenaline's effects were dispersing. Once settled, you buried your face in your cold palms and squeezed your eyes shut. Where should you go? What should you do? Were all of Arthur's promises empty? What will happen to your marriage now? Will Tommy keep ruining your life? All these questions played on repeat in your skull, like the unsettling loop of a broken record echoing in a murky abandoned house. And along the haunting tune resonated your and Arthur's voice, from a not-so-far memory.

"I'll marry you one day."

"You're already married, Arthur."

"I don't bloody care, it's you I want ay. Fook Linda, fook the family, fook the rest of the world. It's you. It has always been you."

A shiver ran down your spine as your mind went back to the night you had this conversation. You could almost feel the warm sensation of his naked skin against yours, as he cradled you to his chest, legs entangled, and his cologne all over your bedsheet. The first time you made love.

"Listen, I know you're scared and I know I’ve got a bad reputation. But if you give me the chance to be your man, I swear to God you'll be the only one for me. Look at ya. How could I want another woman? They can all die. I'll never, fucking never, cheat on you."

"But with Linda--"

"It ain't the same. We're talking about you. My sweet angel. My soul mate. My saving grace. The other part of me broken self."

"... Alright. Promise it then."

"Cross me heart and hope to die."

"No drugs either? Like, a bit of snow occasionally never killed anyone but apart from this, no relapse okay?"

"No drugs but..." He paused, gently taking your hand in his, and kissed all your fingers one by one "But in exchange I want ye to stop hurting yourself. I saw the inside of your thighs so please, no more cuts ay?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." You smiled, interlocking your little fingers together in a sweet pinky promise.

You pressed one trembling hand against your mouth at the bittersweet memory, tears tingling your eyes and blurring your vision. A muffled sob escaped from your plumped lips, then a second, and finally tears came in waterfalls. It's been a long time since you really cried, and here you were. Weeping like a lost kid.

Despite the darkness of the night and the patchy coat of the fog, the stalker caught sight of the long crimson streaks that ran down one of your frail arms. He moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue as his hand reached for the gun hidden in the glove box. Finally, he thought, he was a short moment away from a very sweet vengeance he had spent years carefully planning. A little excited sigh escaped from his mouth while his fingers caressed the cold barrel of the gun, already aroused at the idea of pointing the canon against your head the moment he would force you to get in his car. Even if he knew that the wisest thing to do after your capture was to drive you to them, he thought about going on a little stroll with you. Maybe he'll bring you to an isolated land to shove you on the muddy ground, and make you regret the day you decided to murder his brother in the small mountainous town of Haute-Falaise. Only after he had ruined you enough, stealing every ounce of your dignity, he would drive you to Section D's headquarters. With a bit of luck, he could keep hurting you a little bit more before they decide to pull the trigger and repaint the walls with the contents of your brain.

The roots of his hatred had started the day he realized that each time he closed his lids, his brother's eyes haunted him. Or at least, the two hollow and dark holes on his face since his eyes had been gouged out. There was also the blood, running from his mouth, ears, nose, and even streaming down his cheeks in crimson tears. Maybe he should have listened to the local police when they told him not to look at the corpse, but he had to do it. To his questions, even the forensic pathologist couldn’t answer. The only certainty the experts agreed on was that Christian’s lungs and heart had been smashed to a pulp from the inside and that he had stab wounds all over his body just like the other four corpses found. Five corpses and nothing else. The murderer was nowhere to be seen: no one had witnessed something, not even heard the slightest muffled scream. It was as if Death came, struck them with his scythe, and left without a trace.

Closer. A little bit closer...

You jumped at the sudden and unexpected sensation of a man’s hand squeezing your frail shoulder. As nimble as a cat and as quick as a lightning bolt, you jumped from the wall and unsheathed the dagger you kept hidden in your right lace garter, “Who the fuck are you?!” You hissed, voice burning with fury and frozen eyes darting at the stranger. You had been so quick to react that the man, vaguely confused by what just happened, found himself in quite a poor situation. Indeed, he didn’t expect a young woman to press the tip of a sharp blade against his carotid artery, ready to slit it. God knew he was a fearless fighter, but you had been too unpredictable, even for him. And yet, he didn’t move nor particularly react despite the unpleasant surprise.

“Heaven Shelby?” He asked.

You snarled and bared your teeth at this unfamiliar voice calling you by your name. If marrying Arthur Shelby had taught you what real love was, you had also learned how to become even more deadly than you already were. Seemed like the Shelby's wariness had turned you feral.

“Make one more step and I’ll bleed you like a fucking pig.” You warned. The cold wind of the night blew in your hair, making your long white locks dance behind you like the ghostly veil of a dead bride. He frowned, unsettled by its uncommon color. What disturbed him the most though was maybe the pale and haunting color of your eyes, whose shade reminded him of two cursed aquamarine stones.

“Mrs. Shelby. I mean no harm, ‘specially not when facing such a young and delicate lady,” He started, the corner of his lips stretching in a fathomless smile despite the awe you inspired him. His small and cunning fox-like eyes squinted as he grinned. Somehow, he didn't seem to mind the blade that was still threatening him as if such a situation was casual -- and it was. If anything, he was impressed by your fierceness and the hatred that shone in your iris, which created a striking contrast with your little frame and doll face, “Well not as delicate as I’ve been told.” His smile widened at his own comment, “It’s dangerous out’here m’lady, I’ve spotted you by chance and thought I’d bring you home safe.”

“Dangerous.” You snorted, unable to hold your sarcasm. “Get the fuck away from me.” Each word from your mouth was dripping with caustic vitriol, leaving no doubt about your hostility and lethal potential. Judging by your quick and deadly reaction, you were certainly more than capable of taking care of yourself -- in truth, he could tell you wouldn't hesitate to end his life. But instead of backing up, the man carefully brought his fingertips on the shining surface of the dagger and pried it away from his throat in a slow movement without breaking eye contact with you.

“A car is following you.” He informed you.

“What?” This phrase hit you like a train, impairing the fierceness and self-confidence you’ve been showing. Surveying your surroundings quickly, you did notice the shadow of a car not so far away in the distance with its headlights shut and two glistening eyes staring at you from the driver's seat. The moment the shadow understood that you had spotted him, the car headed away from you in a loud engine roar and disappeared in the misty night. Fuck, the lad was right: someone had been following you. You sniffed, still in shock, and quickly wiped your tears with the brush of one knuckle before tricking your anxiety into focusing on your unexpected savior again. Your armed hand might be hanging loosely from your slim body, but your fingers were still firmly wrapped around the dagger’s handle. It was an expensive and deadly blade, gifted by one mysterious red-head woman whose hair reminded you of a wildfire. You had trouble remembering the name — Lucy? Something like this. What you knew though was that this troubled soul was called ‘Tommy’s little spy” by the Shelby's family, but since you couldn’t care less about your brother-in-law’s personal life you didn’t investigate further. The girl had been nice with you, that was all that mattered.

Even armed and feral, you felt vulnerable. At your big confused eyes and at the sight of mascara running down your cheeks, the man couldn’t help but feel sorry for you. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you could pass off for his daughter or maybe because you were just a few years older than his own son? He slightly tilted his body to one side to let the weak beam of a street light disclose his face and overall appearance: long and messy gray hair, thin lips, small glistening eyes, and a mysterious and slightly disturbing grin.

“Mrs. Shelby, you should come with me.” He advised, then he extended his arm, about to lay his strong hand on your shoulder a second time when you stepped back to avoid his touch with a dissuasive hiss. He stopped, “Lemme bring you back to your husband. It’s Arthur Shelby, ‘m I right?” This time, he simply offered you his palm and waited for you to make the first step. You replied to his invitation by looking dagger at him: if your eyes could kill, this one would already be sleeping with the fishes.

“No.” You protested, as stubborn as a Shelby by birth. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the mention of Arthur, the thought of him coming back home all coked up and intoxicated was still fueling your rage like gasoline thrown at a destructive fire. The last thing you wanted at the moment was to see your husband. If someone had asked you, you’d have answer that what you sincerely wanted was John and his comforting arms. John and his beaming smile. John and his way of teasing you, his jokes, his softness, his cockiness... Yes, that was John you wanted, and you wanted him now. But the cruel truth was that John wasn’t there anymore. He was lying dead and cold in a morgue, leaving you with nothing but the insufferable pain of his loss and your head screaming. “I don’t want to see him.” You asserted and fled the man’s gaze, who soon understood the situation — with age came experience, and from experience he could recognize the aching expression of a young woman wounded by the hazards of love. These Shelby men… He thought with a certain disdain. Oh, he had not been irreproachable all his life either, but a woman’s heart was a gift he missed every day of his life since his wife’s death. The mysterious lad softly reached for your wrist and, not minding your feral nature anymore, he brought it closer to his face to examine the open gash on your porcelain skin.

“Did he hurt you?”

“I did this to myself.” You broke the physical contact right away and pressed your palm firmly on the still-bleeding wound. Adrenaline had pumped so hard through your veins that the pain had been numbed: only now your nerves were slowly wakening up, sending unpleasant tingles where the cut was. While he observed you carefully, the man wondered why such a young and fragile thing like you would do this to herself.

“Seems like you had a harsh night, kitten.” He stated with a slight fatherly tone which surprised you before he noticed the goosebumps on your skin. The situation had been so exceptional that he completely obliterated that you were barefoot outside, in the freezing temperature of Birmingham’s night, wearing nothing but a short dress. Without further ado, the man took his long black coat off and put it over your shoulders. While you still shot him a suspicious look, the warmth in which he wrapped you felt good. Your muscles relaxed and your hand closed on the two sides you brought together near your throat to protect it from the wind. “While I get why y’don’t wanna go home, ‘specially if you fought with your man, you have to understand that being alone at night in Small Heath is not safe. Let alone currently, with Changretta’s men trying to murder you all. Maybe you’d like me to bring you to Thomas instead?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the simple mention of your brother-in-law’s name. The sensation of his lips against yours was still burning your flesh and even hours after your last encounter you couldn’t get rid of his cologne’s scent that was still lingering on your hair and skin, “I’d rather get fucked by a horse than deal with this bastard.” The man blinked in surprise. He hadn’t expected you to have such a foul mouth -- that was why let out a soft chuckle, to which you replied with a very faint smile.

“Alright kitten… I get it. No Shelby men. And what about coming with me to my vardo? My son has lit a campfire and he is cooking some rabbits. Would you like that?” He suggested, one brow raised and his fox-like grin widening almost to his ears.

“You still haven't told me who you are.”

The man took off his brown hat at your clever comment, “Ah yes. Where are my manners ay?” His dark blue eyes glistened with a cunning gleam as he slowly nodded “The name’s Aberama Gold. Nice to meet you.”

“You bloody idiot… Sit here and don’t do anything stupid anymore.” Polly instructed her oldest nephew as soon as he had entered the room, pointing to an empty chair with her half-consumed cigarette. All alone with Ada and his aunt, who were still waiting for the other guests to come, Arthur took place and kept his head down. Polly simply took a long drag from her black cigarette and exhaled, smoke coming out of her mouth like the Devil as she quietly observed Arthur’s eyebags and bloody knuckles. Soon after your departure, she had heard the cacophony of screams and thuds coming from his house in Watery Lane. When she witnessed all the blood, destroyed furniture, and shards of glass in the living room, she had been was convinced that Arthur had murdered you out of jealousy or something. Fortunately enough, the situation wasn't that dramatic -- at least for her. After throwing herself at her nephew and forcing him to calm the fuck down, she did her best to keep the oldest Shelby brother from hurting himself more than he already did. When things got quieter, she had even scolded him as she did when he was a kid — except that all the other sermons he had been through in his childhood were nothing compared to the anger she had unleashed when he had confessed about taking drugs again.

“Is she coming to the meeting?” She finally inquired, one of her elbows resting on the wooden table and her cigarette consuming itself between her fingers.

“Don’t know Pol.” Arthur’s usual loud and gruff voice was reduced to a shy, hoarse, and saddened whisper. No matter his attempt at distracting his mind, his thoughts always came back to you. Only you. He didn’t know where you were nor if you’d come back to him and that was slowly driving him crazy. Or more than he already was. Arthur felt his fragile sanity slipping through his fingers and knew it wouldn't be long before he went berserk if it turned out you really left. Also, he was growing frustrated and agitated about sitting here in the betting shop, waiting for a useless meeting to start instead of looking for you. All he wanted was to burn this city to the ground and make it bleed until he found you and brought you back home where you belonged. That is to say by his side. Nevertheless, Polly had advised him against this decision, convinced it would only fuel your rage against him even more. She wasn’t wrong though, you needed space.

The fierce Aunt stubbed her cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and leaned toward her nephew to grab his wrist with one of her cold and sly hands. It snapped him out of his crumbling mind. “You’re insanely lucky to have a woman like her in your life, Arthur. Don’t be an ungrateful cunt by letting your addictions ruin the most precious thing you have. The bland and momentarily relief snow grants you will never hold a candle to Heaven. Understand?” She warned with the same tone she used when a young Arthur came back home all bloody after fighting at school. “Hey. Look at me.” The gangster sniffed and raised his steel blue eyes to his Aunt, his lips trembling and dimples appearing on his cheeks as he clenched his jaws. How right she was. Even when snorting a ridiculously huge amount of snow he didn’t feel better. In fact, his high had been insipid when compared with how you made him feel, blissed out and in pure ecstasy, when his lips crashed against yours. An unpleasant surge of electricity crossed his body at this thought as he remembered how his whole being yearned for you. “She’ll come back. I know she will, and you’ll make up for your idiocy. But let me warn you, boy. Witches usually don’t believe in second chances. If she gives you one, don’t ever fuck it all up anymore, or she’ll tear your bloody heart from your chest and smash it in front of your beseeching eyes. And you’ll consider yourself lucky if she only did it figuratively. ” At these murderous words, which felt like another stab, Arthur bit the inside of his cheek until he could taste blood on his tongue.

“I’ll do that.” He concluded, closing his hands in fists in a vain attempt to keep his temper quiet despite his spiraling thoughts. Thoughts that revolve around either you and how he would end his damn life if you ever left him. With a loud bang, a strong rope, or hell, his own razor blade, he didn’t care. Polly simply nodded and sat straight again as the other members of the clan entered the room one by one and took place, waiting for Tommy. At each footstep, Arthur raised his head with impatience, wishing it was you and internally screaming when he realized it wasn’t. HeavenHeavenHeavenHeaven… It never stopped, the thought of you compulsive and maddening. He cleared his throat and grunted nervously, his gaze glaring at an invisible dot on the wall that was facing him.

Tommy erupted in the room, a placid expression etched on his face as always, giving the impression he was in complete control of the situation. Was he? No one was truly sure about that. He stood fearlessly in front of the small crowd, far from being impressed by public speeches, and let his turquoise eyes wander on every face. Sometimes you wondered if Thomas Shelby would better drop the criminal life and start a political career. After all, he had all the required qualities: manipulative, sweet-talking, dishonest, and heartless. Tommy took one look at his brother’s face and quickly got a broad understanding of what had happened -- It wasn't particularly difficult though considering how Arthur belonged to the expressive kind. His eyes usually talked before he even opened his mouth. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder if it was his fault. If it was because of the... kiss, or his moment of confusion as he liked to call it. Yet, his sharp instincts knew that Arthur hadn’t been informed of this little event otherwise he would have certainly gone straight for his throat no matter the family blood running in their veins. Loyalty had its limits, and the limits bore your name. When he noticed your absence, Tommy discreetly clenched his sharp jaws for even if he loathed you, you had your place among the family for the meeting and the rest of them would probably not vote if you weren’t there. Nevermind, he thought. He had barely parted his lips when he heard the clicking sound of heels approaching and with the sound came your perfume. Just like Arthur, he immediately recognized the spring-like fragrances of your scent, especially now that he had buried his nose in your silvery mane.

Arthur’s heart made a leap in his tight ribcage as he saw you bathed in the warm light of the betting shop, dressed like the day you left the house except for your hair that was styled in two French braids cascading down the small of your back. He wanted to get up and embrace you, choke you in a hug, or fall on his knees to beg for forgiveness without minding the other people in the room but Polly’s strong hand squeezed his thigh to prevent him from doing so. Thus, all he did was just staring at you with pitiful and beseeching eyes. But you didn’t look at him. In truth, you didn’t look at anyone. Ignoring the burning sensation of Tommy’s turquoise iris following you, you passed by him and headed right to the free chair between Polly and Arthur. As soon as you sat next to him, he obliterated the world in favor of your heavenly presence as he usually did when you were around. The lanky gangster tried his chance and his fingers shyly searched for yours under the table. He was dying to feel your touch again, the coldness of your frosty skin being the only remedy to his troubled soul and broken mind. However, you denied him your affection by slightly shifting your hand away from him no matter how hard it was for you too. Your rejection stung him more painfully than a white-hot blade. Arthur bit the inside of his cheek harder but instead of making a scene or bursting with both rage and frustration, he tried his best to be a good boy and simply lowered his head as an unruly child who had just been scolded. His lonely hand rested on his thigh he nervously rubbed, desperately trying to chase away his sadness.

“John is dead.” Tommy exhaled loudly and made a short pause as if he was still processing the awful truth. John. Is. Dead. Your frail fingers fidgeted the fabric of your dress at Tommy’s statement, doing so only to avoid digging them into your own flesh and scratching it until you bleed. For a micro while, Tommy's self-confidence flickered, afflicted by his baby brother’s savage murder, before he regained composure and his eyes darkened again, “Esme’s back on the road with the Lees. She’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded, they say it’s 60/40 in his favor.”

“There’s no number, there’s no percentages” Polly cut him off, “So the hand, the hand beneath him stops his falling. Spoke to someone… My son will live.” It was more or less all you’ve heard of the conversation, for your mind soon drifted. As Tommy kept talking, your frozen eyes as glacial as Dante’s latest ring of Hell locked on your husband. Observing him with great attention, you tried to look for anything that would prove he was high. But despite a huge deal of effort, you didn’t see any grain of white powder near his nostrils. Arthur’s eyes weren’t dilated, his hands didn’t shake and his breathing was as soft as quiet. If anything, he looked awfully tired and miserable. To be honest, you could not help but think about how bad you missed him and how handsome he was in his suit even if your mood was still sour and resentful.

Arthur grunted, distracting himself from the pain by following the conversation and playing his henchman role. He took a golden bullet out of the pocket of his trousers and, holding it between his thumb and his index finger, looking at its shiny surface on which he had carved Luca’s name: “Yeah, Well… The bullet’s been written… It says Luca.” He paused, a glimpse of John’s face reflecting on the gold for half a second. “When the time comes and it will come… Me as the oldest brother —“ He swallowed again, John had disappeared, “Will put this bullet into his fucking head.” He concluded his speech by putting the said bullet on the table, the metallic sound echoed in the room and chilled you to the bones. Your eyes were still focusing on Arthur, but this time it was because you felt worried for him. Despite his rough and tough demeanor, the slight tremor in his voice and his need to take short pauses had betrayed his profound sorrow. You closed your fists on your dress because of how much you hated to see him in pain. All you wanted was to hold his arm and support him in these difficult times but you were certainly as pretty as stubborn.

“There’s been some bad blood between us.” While he had ignored you for most of his speech, Tommy’s intense gaze fell on you. Feeling the ice of his eyes burning you, you cocked an eyebrow. Was it a pathetic attempt to apologize? Or was he blaming you for it?

Bad blood… Polly scoffed. You snort. That was the least he could say.

It felt like an eternity before little King Shelby spoke again, not paying attention to his Aunt’s and your attitude. He looked at the ceiling, looking for his words then he went on, “Until this business is settled we stay together. We stay here…” To assert his claim, Tommy explained how the family would be safe as long as they stayed together, surrounded by an army of faces they already knew. His plan was simple: all the family remained together until they manage to kill Luca Changretta. Until then, no one was allowed to stray away from Small Heath. Arthur's first reaction following this suggestion was to turn his head towards you, looking with concern for far too well he knew you didn't wish to stay. A small sigh escaped from your plumped lips as you dived into his sad eyes, but you remained silent. Worst, you remained awfully placid and hated yourself for looking so much like Tommy for a short while. The rest bored you to hell and blurred into a mush of unintelligible bribes of conversation, except for the mention of Aberama Gold and Johnny Dogs’ complaints about the man. Savages he had said. The same word he had used the first time you met him. She's a freakin' savage, Arthur. An evil creature straight from the woods! Rolling your eyes, you bit your tongue to keep your mouth shut, and not scream at Dogs to tell him that Aberama Gold might be a savage but at least he took care of you these last few days better than any members of the Shelby clan did. At least not before interminable months of insults and death/suspicious stares. As the conversation went on, Polly put a glass of whisky in front of you but you pushed it away almost immediately -- you've been feeling nauseous since you left Watery Lane so drinking strong alcohol was the last thing you had in mind. Thus, you simply passed the glass to Arthur, who certainly needed it more than you.

“… Which means we have to agree to end this war between us.” Thomas Shelby might be addressing the whole family, but you knew his words were mainly aimed at you, which only made you move your foot impatiently under the table. Ending this war, of course, you thought. And what about the last two years of misery you’ve made me undergo each time we met? What about the moment you strangled me? And what about all the awful things you said after thrusting your tongue in my fucking mouth? These would have been all the things you would have screamed at him if your legendary coldness had broken. Which, fortunately for everyone in the room, hadn’t.

Truthful to himself, Tommy asked for the family to vote.

“Peace.” Arthur finally decided, taking the glass and gulping down the amber liquid it contained in hope it would numb him. It didn’t. As surprising as it was to hear the oldest sibling choosing a non-violent approach to a conflict, you knew it was the best decision to make. So as everyone shared their opinion, you thought deeply about yours until your turn came. At first, you didn’t realize it was already your time to speak — only the sudden silence and the weight of a dozen eyes on you could snatch you from your mind. And among the pair of eyes, the one that burnt the fiercest was Tommy’s.

“Now we’re asking for my opinion?” You said, sarcastic venom coating your words.

“Angel, please…” Arthur whispered, but you waved off his comment with a disdainful gesture of the hand. He currently wasn’t in the position to advise you. Not after hurting you like he did.

“Truce.” You stated, coldly. The word left your mouth with the power of a guillotine’s blade on an inmate’s neck and surprised everyone in the room. In truth, they were all convinced you would disagree with the idea. Polly and Ada offered you a warm smile, while Tommy lowkey nodded in approval at your wise decision.

“Five for peace, two for truce. Let’s get on with the war.” He concluded, turning around and walking out of the betting shop without one last glance at any of his family’s members: his scheming mind already focused on the next part of his plan.

As always, Tommy couldn't live without pulling the strings.

As the room cleared out and people left, you remained alone with Arthur in an uncomfortable silence. Because you had nothing to tell him, you got up from your chair and proceeded to walk to the exit without uttering a single word but the tall gangster caught you by the wrist, forcing you to stop. His long fingers closed around you a bit too bluntly than he intended though. You winced and as a result, he immediately let go of you, showing his palm open to indicate that he didn't mean to hurt you.

“Heaven, please." His gravelly voice called. "Enough with the cold treatment… I can’t. It’s hurting me.” He said rather slowly, for putting words on his emotions was not something he was used to. Most of the time he just yelled and resorted to violence. , “I beg ye, go back home, angel.”

"You had promised me, Arthur." You articulated.

"And you had also promised me not to hurt yourself anymore." His gruff voice raised a little bit, threatening to turn into frustrated yellings because he didn’t know how to properly communicate his emotions, especially not when they were so obsessive and overwhelming. But Arthur didn’t want to scream at you so what he did was take a deep inhale to force himself not to be his usual loud and rude self. “You also promised to me, love.” He repeated in a calmer tone even if his quivering upper lip and twitching mustache showed how much he was struggling.

“So now we both understand how it feels when the other part of your soul breaks a promise. What a great step forward we’ve made.” That was mean. So mean you could barely believe that such an awful taunt came from your tantalizing mouth — but even though you instantly regretted it, you didn’t falter. No matter your mad love for Arthur and the untamable desire to throw yourself in his arms, you weren’t going to bend: things needed to be clear right now or they’ll never never be.

“I’m sorry, love. I’m fucking sorry alright?!" He growled, opening his arms as to silently ask you what he had to do for you to believe him. "I swear there isn’t a second during which I’m not regretting everything I did and said to you.” He finally admitted, long arms falling along his slim body, “I wasn’t meself even if I know this ain’t no excuse. I won't do it again. But…Please Heaven I can’t go on without you. And I don’t want to.” The only answer to his pleadings was a heavy silence combined with your frost-like gaze.

Arthur’s eyes lingered over your arm until they fell on the deep cut you had inflicted upon yourself. This is what it feels like when you take drugs. The powerlessness he had felt when he watched the blood running down your skin and soaking the fabric of your clothes was etched in his mind: he, who had promised to protect you against everything, realized he couldn’t save you from yourself if you chose to destroy you… And that powerlessness was the same you experienced when he egoistically relapsed. That was a harsh lesson, but a lesson he had learned. “Please forgive me.” He begged and sucked in a sharp breath as if he was physically in pain, yet he still took your arm in his hand with indescribable softness and, with his free one, caressed your still swollen and red gash.

Your dainty body stood still, trying not to give in to the delightful sensation of his warm skin against yours but your heart sunk in your chest “You have to understand that you cannot act like a jerk, hurt me, treat me like shit and then come back with your puppy eyes, and beg for forgiveness. It doesn’t work like that." You said.

“So you're not coming back...” His voice broke, warm hand closing on your wound.

Your touch. I need it. It's a damn physical need.

“Don’t be stupid Arthur…” You sighed, the traits of your angelic face softening, “That’s not what I said."

"So please, love. Forgive me. I'll do whatever ye want. I'll get on my knees right now if that's what you want." His body shifted, closing the distance between the two of you until his arms wrapped around your waist. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach at the sight of his enchanting blue eyes, whose color was so different from his brothers. Slightly darker, far less colder. With your heart beating fast and your mind buzzing, you couldn't keep your fingers from gently grazing one of his cheeks. He half closed his eyelids at the sensation, the tremors of his body already calming down now that you were touching him.

"I don't want you to get on your knees. And I don't want to make a dog out of you like Linda did. All I ask for is my husband, who I know is a wonderfully strong man who doesn't need any chemicals to face the world. Not anymore." Your holy voice sounded like the purest melody in his ears like God's mercy whispered to him. Lulled by your words and strokes, Arthur would have purred if he wasn't already fighting against tears of relief.

"I've been such a fucking bastard... What the fuck is wrong with me eh? I still can't believe every mean thing I've screamed. The words I told ya, they're eating me sick brain." He gritted his teeth, "I don't fucking deserve you." Noticing that his breathing was getting faster, you wrapped his neck with your arms and lifted yourself on your tiptoes to lay a kiss on his chin.

"Stop it, Art. Don't beat yourself." You whispered in his ear, one hand lost in his perfectly slicked hair. "You want me to forgive you? Well; show me that all these promises you made weren’t empty. That our wedding can overcome everything, even the worst. Prove it to me." As you spoke, you softly rocked him from left to right, trying to calm his anxiety. A sigh escaped from your lips: you just couldn't abandon him as everyone else did. And part of you cursed him for making you feel so weak, especially when he was looking at you with his confused puppy eyes.

“I’ll show you then, angel. I’ll show you because without you birds don’t sing anymore.” He nodded, softly rubbing his cheek against yours. You could feel his heart drumming against your bosom, crying for yours to open up to him again. “I'll show you I'm still a good husband." His lips trailed down your cheek to capture yours, but the moment he tried to kiss them you slightly turned your head to the other side to deny him access to your mouth. He clenched his jaws.

“Go find Thomas and organize the funerals with him." You simply instructed, taking a step back to free yourself from his arms. The lanky gangster nodded and left, head down and arms swinging as he walked away.

All you wished now was that he truly meant what he said.

All alone in the betting shop, you leaned against a wall and closed your eyes, needing a bit of peace to reorganize your thoughts and soothe your overwhelming emotions. Moreover, you had to come to terms with the idea of living near Tommy, here in Small Heath. It has been only weeks since you left your small house in the forest but you already missed it. Suddenly, you jumped at the feeling of two cold hands grasping you by the shoulders. When you reopened your eyelids, you were met by Polly’s motherly smile and dark gaze. Eyes so black it outmatched the bark of the most ancient trees you had ever seen. And just like these trees, they had something mystical, as if they were keeping the Earth's secrets and infinite wisdom. For sure, Elizabeth Gray was a woman of nature, born in the wilderness and raised among the soft whispers of the leaves. You even wonder if her body contained blood or if it was amber sap that was coursing through her veins.

“I’m happy you came back, white Devil.” She said with a soft smile. Since the day she heard Tommy spat the insult at your face, she decided to reverse the curse and use it as an affectionate nickname for you -- an idea you found absolutely delightful.

“I’m a Shelby now, everyone says so… So I suppose my place is here.” The melancholy of your grin betrayed your thoughts and Polly understood that only now you were starting to understand what bearing this family name truly meant. “I'm not gonna lie, Polly, I didn’t want to come. That’s Mr. Gold who convinced me I needed to. After hours of bargaining, he got me by telling me it would get under Tommy's skin.”

“You call him Tommy now?” She teased, trying to make you smile but little she knew her remark had the opposite effect. You pursed your juicy lips and looked away.

“Something happened with him right.” The fierce Aunt frowned, observing your face as if she would be able to find an answer to her question hidden in your holy traits. Now sincerely concerned, her grip tightened on your shoulders, like benevolent roots anchoring you to reality. While she knew the difficult and rocky relationship you had with little King Shelby, she had never seen you display such a dreadful expression when his name was mentioned.

“Something always happens with him anyway. But that’s not important.” You closed the topic, not wanting to talk about him any longer. The fucker had done enough to infect your brain, so you didn’t want to give him more space. "Do you think Johnny Dogs says the truth about the Gold? I mean, I'm not Romani but the Gold are nice to me and--"

"Heaven. Oh Lord." She cut you off, her smile swept away from her face so quickly you blinked several times.

"What's the matter, Pol?" You asked, eyebrows frowned.

Freeing your shoulders, her left hand grabbed one of your breasts to squeeze it softly while the right one felt your abdomen at different places, looking for something you didn't know. The more she touched you, the more her facial expression seemed concerned. Completely taken aback by her sudden behavior, your lips parted in surprise as you watched her.

"Does Arthur know it?!" She inquired, her dark eyes switching between you and your tummy.

“Does Arthur know what?"

“That you’re pregnant.”

✞ Any comment, review, reblog, or constructive criticism is welcome. Your reactions really motivate me and keep me alive, so please don't be shy. English is not my first language.

✞ taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @bluevenus19

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circeyoru · 1 month

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Hiiii I love unwanted soul so much 🤧 I saw that you did a version of redeemed reader where she doesn't forgive alastor for what he did ( which by the way it was amazing but at the same time It destroyed me) could you possibly do one where she does forgive him and how that would go ( p.s you are my fav alastor writer )

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

*Check out the trivia ones for redeemed reader

That's some scary high praise. Ahhh! What's the normal heart rate? I can't tell anymore when I read your praises.

Hmm, one where Alastor is forgiven... I'll go with the one where a request said Reader/you were able to make Alastor not tear off your wings. Yeah?

I'd say it takes time for you to get used to Alastor again because of what he tried to do to you. You understand that he was desperate for you, but you really can't control the fear in your body and the skepticism in your feelings.

You know he's a yandere, that much was obvious. But before, it wasn't that much of a threat to you. You had to tell him to stay away from your room and stay at a wing-span length away from you whenever he was near you, and your wings are very very wide.

Alastor has to respect your wishes if he wants your forgiveness, so he does so. While it was painful to keep away from you since you have returned, him resonating with the phase "so close yet so far", it was better than accepting that you were gone.

So he'll wait for you. There's an eternity.

Meanwhile, he does the same as he did before. Making your meals, cleaning your apartment, being your bodyguard while you were out, and keeping you company.

All this is for him to show you he learnt his lesson, that he caused you harm, pain, and fear. You have to drive it in him that he done something you can't look over as him being a yandere, that it was 'normal'. Because it wasn't for you. And it never will be.

It'll take a long while, but you manage to get used to him. Slowly, you'll let him get closer and closer to you, until he was gifted with your touch. He'll break down then and apologize all over again, this time, you'll hug him with your wings.

"Aren't they pretty and soft?"

Alastor will nod as he sobs, he can't speak but he rubs his face onto your wings. They're soft and warm like you are to him. He doesn't deserve you. Yet he was too selfish to leave you alone.

From then on, your wings are a reminder of the pain and fear he caused you. He takes extra care not to inflict such emotions to you by his hands, he takes greater care to not receive your disdain.

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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submissive-humiliation-slut · 2 months

Text

Face slapping...

Give me a resounding slap across my cheek and watch all my confidence, self worth, self esteem, dignity and sense of self melt away... Alternate it with spitting on my face and then slapping it off me... I'll be your whore for life... fuckkk!

So here is a method I use to degrade and punish myself that incorporates lots of face slapping (in case my fellow whores and sluts would like to replicate):

WARNING: You may need recovery time from this self-punishment. You may want to provide time overnight to recover properly.

Wear a slip/camisole/flimsy top that clings to your body. Wear panties but they won't stay on you for very long.

Kneel in front of a large mirror so you can see yourself completely. Being able to see yourself is important as it underscores your miserable depravity... you'll see in a minute.

Slowly pull your left strap down to expose your left breast... pull your panties down to your knees as you kneel. There is something about being partially undressed... mmm

If you have long hair, take your time slowly tying it back. You will need to have it out of the way. Open your mouth and stick your tongue out...

Start by lightly but swiftly slapping your left cheek 10 times. You don't yet want to hurt yourself, you want to warm yourself up because there is much to come... Do the same to your right cheek.

You should be started to accumulate saliva in your mouth... let it drool down to your chest staining your camisole...

Now give yourself a resounding slap across your left cheek. Make sure it stings. Feel it resonate throughout your soul. Look into your eyes as you do this. Do the same to your right cheek.

Again... slowly but firmly. It should hurt.

Tell yourself "I'm a worthless, pathetic whore with no self esteem and dignity... I'm a slut that deserves to be punished..." Be imaginative!

Slap yourself harder now. Left... wait for it to sink in. Then Right...

Again... and again... Left... Right... until you start to feel tears well in your eyes. Now you can seriously slap yourself...

If you are drooling profusely by now, collect some in your hand and use it to slap yourself. It will go everywhere and really underscore your humiliation. What kind of pathetic whore does this to herself?!

When you can no longer take any more... slap yourself really hard a couple of times more - each time now saying degrading things to yourself out loud. This is where it will test your resolve and dedication to degrading yourself. Your face should snap to either side with each strike... and you should be hurting enough to be crying or at least being truly teary...

Stop when you really can't take any more. Be careful to not go too far or you will bruise yourself (trust me... it can happen).

Now edge like the whore you are... ruthlessly... mercilessly. Tell yourself you deserve this. Look at the marks on your face and the tears in your eyes as you edge... feel the shame burn into your soul...

Ohhhhhh.... fuckkkkk!

#degrade and humiliate me #degrading k1nk #humiliation kink #filthy thoughts #rough kink #submit #edging my mind away #attention wh0r3 #degradation k1nk #degrade kink #degredation kink #slap my face #feeling slutty #sluttoy #whor3 #stupid slvt

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poemnic-tarot · 10 months

Text

Intuitive Channeled Messages For You

1-2-3

4-5-6

(Disclaimer : This is a general reading please only take what resonated. For entertainment purposes only)

These are short messages I channeled without card, just intuitively. Please let me know what you think, I’d love to know!.

( Art designed on Canva )

🍰 🌸 🍬 💫 🍉 You Are Loved 🍉 💫 🍬 🌸 🍰

Pile 1 🧸

"You begin to get what life is all about. Every incidents, now you realised, was not a coincidence.It was meticulously planned for you to get here. Where you are today. Every road lead you here where you can see it all from an objective point of view. And you get it, you finally got it. You would not be confused no more, you trust the universe unconditionally. You will go where they lead you. There are fears of course and doubts and hesitation, but they would never stop you from vibrating in a high frequency, a vibration of love and compassion.

You used to be scare, all the time. Scare of life, of people in it, of all your choices, was it the right choice?, did i made the wrong one?.Why is everyone against me, why is the world against me?. Now you realised, it was just all karmic, it was designed specifically for you. So you could learn your lesson and move up. Ascend and become who you are today. Wise, at peace and more trusting than ever. Trusting of life, situation and most importantly, yourself and your choices. What you went through got you here today and you will be forever grateful. To the Divine,to yourself and your soul, for leading you home finally.

Poem: Sorrow To Joy by @cant-find-my-name

This big transition came through

A revelation

Firstly, we changed our beliefs

Reevaluate our wants and our needs

What makes us happy?

Who values we are following

Who we are without the things we do

Strip away all the unnecessary

Let go of pointless worries

To truly turn joyful

First, we shifted our energy

In this new me, being joyful

Is very easy

Song : Coming Back For You by Fireboy DML

Well I pray that the universe Gives you way more than you deserve When the tears fall like shooting stars Remember who you are Just look up to the sky you'll see

Well I pray that the universe Gives you way more than you deserve When the tears fall like shooting stars Remember who you are Just look up to the sky you'll see I'm coming back for you

🍰 🌸 🍬 💫 🍉 You Are Loved 🍉 💫 🍬 🌸 🍰

Pile 2🛍️

“I can still recall what happened vividly. The memories would never leave me. In a way, it shaped who I am. I identified with what I went through. All of it, the good and the not so good. I appreciates all the good times, all the good people. I wish them well and I know they would do the same for me. I am on a new journey. Honestly, I have no idea where I am going, where am I headed to?.It seem not that important to find out, I figure I'll just start step by step into the unknown. I’m willing to, in a way, I was waiting for this moment. Hoping for it in fact.

It seem I had shaded my old skin. Despited remembering everything that happened. I want to changed. I want to rebuild, I want to become something else. It not because I hated my old self or anything, in fact. It's the opposite. I love my old self very much, but I think it’s just time. Time for me to discover a new side of me that’s different. That the world have never seen before. I am excited, nervous but not scare at all. Which I'm thankful for, I want it to be a fun journey, learning about myself, who will I become. I love every versions of me, the old and I'm already sure that I will also love the new. I guess it's my new purpose in life, get to know thyself again and I'm looking forward to meet me.

Poem : Shooting Stars by @cant-find-my-name

My eyes Shined

They reflected the distance light

I’ve never pray so hard in my life

Wishing for a living dream

Wishing to know

What does all the pain mean?

Trying to find the reason

The universe put me here

And I can’t -

Find the reason

Even as stars shimmered

And shoot down

It is me that has been earth bound,

I can’t go back

I can’t go home

The limit is getting too loud

Going aimless

Wandering about

Maybe it is time for me to discover

Reach deep within me to know

How far did I come from?

And how far can I go?

Song: I'm Still Here by John Rzeznik (Treasure Planet)

I am a question to the world Not an answer to be heard Or a moment that's held in your arms And what do you think you'd ever say? I won't listen anyway, you don't know me And I'll never be what you want me to be

And what do you think you'd understand? I'm a boy, no, I'm a man You can't take me and throw me away And how can you learn what's never shown? Yeah, you stand here on your own They don't know me 'cause I'm not here

And I want a moment to be real Wanna touch things I don't feel Wanna hold on and feel I belong

🍰 🌸 🍬 💫 🍉 You Are Loved 🍉 💫 🍬 🌸 🍰

Pile 3🍑

“It's the people that loved you for who you are that helped you made it. They were a voice telling you not to give up, even when you wanted to. Even when there was no more reasons to go on, you think of the people who loved you. And in a way, their love for you saved you, when your own love wasn’t enough.

But you are still not out of the wood yet, but you're not scare of it no more. You are not scare to be alone anymore. People are your strength and there's experiences of that, but they are also your weakness. The world is more complicated and more than one dimensional and frankly, it's giving you a headache. You just want to live a simple life, a minimalist, no complication, alone in a forest surrounded by nature. You want your wood to turn into a forest. And build a cozy cottage to refuge there when the real world is too much. But most of your life, it's a graveyard of regret and it's full of shadows that you rather ignore. However, no more of that you finally decided. You pray for life to get better, for yourself to get better and in a way, you did not see a way out of it alive.

But in those darkness, you saw light and that light has led you to where the sun shined through. You can see better days," the monsters turned out to be just tree". There are better days, healthier ways to live. And in a way, you want to find that out for yourself. There are alway balance in life, you must remember one thing. When there's darkness, there is also light. When you encounter one the other will also find you. When you experienced one side, don't be scare to face the other. That is how you learn, that you will alway be okay.

Poem: Invisible Force by @cant-find-my-name

Something is choking me

The invisible force

Stronger than what's real

Maybe the scariest thing

Are what we're all thinking

Not necessary the truth

Or what happened

But what could have been,

It's scary to see

What isn't there

The affect is real

But the enemy aren't here

Song: This is me trying by Taylor Swift

I've been having a hard time adjusting I had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting I didn't know if you'd care if I came back I have a lot of regrets about that Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway

I just wanted you to know That this is me trying I just wanted you to know That this is me trying

🍰 🌸 🍬 💫 🍉 You Are Loved 🍉 💫 🍬 🌸 🍰

Pile 4🍇

"Peace will find you, no need to seek it. It's there for you to tap into it, anytime, anyplace. No need to acquired more to get it. The misconception that you need this or that in order to feel whole. It a misconception, you only need one thing child. And that is yourself. If you have yourself, all of you, the dark and light part of you, the side you loved and admired and the side that make you look away. All parts of you deserve recognition. They are you and yours alone, so we got to honour them. Every part of you love you and want your attention and want you to acknowledge them. Let us finally do that. Let us look into the mirror and see ourselves finally.

We are a pure soul, there is nothing wrong with us, no matter what people implied. We are not broken, we are whole. Your soul is intact, it is there for you to go back and connect to it. Your soul is waiting for you to answer its calling. You heard it but you ignore it because life get in the way, but, if you're trying to find that fulfilment. That feeling of, aww there it is the thing I'm look for?, as annoying as it is, it is that part of you that you wouldn't dare look at.

Poem: Surrendering by @cant-find-my-name

Surrendering my sorrows

Surrendering to my flaws

If there is no Perfection

I would be perfect

Nitpicking my visions

Aiming for the best

Left behind a broken body

And an anxiety ridden mind,

Right path don't do that

Peace is not a compromise

Tis a birth right

Just like how everyone will die,

Getting my soul back

Revived my forgotten joy

Everyday supposed to be precious

Not wishing for it to stop

Song : Back To Beautiful by Sofia Carson

They say You're not good enough, you're not brave enough You should cover up your body Tell me, watch my weight Gotta paint my face Or else no one's gonna want me

Why do we say this to ourselves? And even worse to each other? Why do we say this to ourselves? Ooh

We gotta, get back to beautiful Gotta, get back to beautiful All these words, starting wars Over who can hurt who more Gotta, get back to beautiful

🍰 🌸 🍬 💫 🍉 You Are Loved 🍉 💫 🍬 🌸 🍰

Pile 5🍰

"Something is changing, you can feel it. More internally rather than externally. But it's changing all the same. But you're not scare or excited. You are just neutral about it. But there is that part of you that goes, Finally. Because lately, nothing evokes your interest.The desires you had once feel ill fitted. When you realised that nothing really matter, not in a depressing way, but more of a freeing way, You accepted that as truth. You are not satisfied in life, yes, but seeking more things will not do either. You don't want more per say, but there's something missing that you don't know how to put into words. The missing piece might not be tangible, might just be intangible things that you can't hold onto. Which way should you headed towards when your inner compass is kind of confused.

Forward is the way, you will never be lost, as long as you keep moving forwards and not stop. We will not rush either. When we are in a confusing state, we must take our time and experienced our moment fully so that there won't be a lapse in our memory. Memory is a tricky thing, if you think too far into the future or the past as you experiencing the present, then your present becomes filled with memories from the future or the past. So the present moment will never exist. Be careful of letting moments passed you by, it is alright to not know why you are feeling this way. It is alright to be confused or sad or even unsatisfied. It is alright to be in that state in your present because whatever you are feeling at the moment, the present will eventually become a past.”

Poem: Renewal by @cant-find-my-name

There is hope in this world

In words that you said,

Even though it's a lie

You tell yourself it'll be okay

Maybe not now

Definitely not right now

But hopefully someday

You begin to notice the yellow

In dandelions,

How it shine like gold

In certain light.

Now you finally see

The colourful sky

How many shades of it

Changed with time.

How every poem you write

Begins to rhyme

And you know there's a reason for all this

Every little bit of it

So whatever happened

Do not resist

For you shall learn to embrace it

Song : Take A Chance by Flume

So you feel all your powers unfold

Stretching our big wings while the white is turning gold So tell your story baby, don't give up, just let it all go out You're quiet wishing for something now

Will you be the one to take a chance? Have demands, spill your heart Will you be the one to take a stand Make the girls dance Spill your thoughts Will you be the one to take a chance? Have demands, spill your heart Will you be the one to take a stand Make the girls dance Spill your thoughts, will you?

🍰 🌸 🍬 💫 🍉 You Are Loved 🍉 💫 🍬 🌸 🍰

Pile 6🌙

"The unlimited possibility you seek is there for you to tapped into. Your believed is everything, so be careful what or who you believe in. Miracles exist, just look into a mirror and witness one. Look into your own eyes and wondered who that soul is. For it is you, but there so much you don't know about yourself, yet. Instead of feeling bad about that, we should feel excited. For it is a privilege to know thyself. Know your limit and your unlimited possibilities. How many grains of sand on the beach, that is how much your potentials lies. What you can achieved in life is up to how much you are opened to recieved.

My dear, you are magnificent, I wish you can see yourself through my eyes. How you hold on to life, wise beyond your years. Give it everything you got, no matter what that is, is such a human trait even gods envied. Every difficulties you go through know that those got nothing on your willpower to get through them. You are a strong little human, whose hope is bigger then the universe.You believe in the better, better days, better life, better energy for this earth. And your hope/light is what is keeping this planet alive. Keep believing in your power, because you are powerful. And loved by many.

Poem: Home Coming by @cant-find-my-name

My Divine Mother gentle touch

She taught me so much

By being nurtured we grow

By being loved we thrive

By being connected

We become part of the Divine

I know you look at yourself

And see a scare child

Darling, that's quite alright

Cause you are protected, alway

All the flaws should be

Embraced

There's no need for harsh judgment

Gentleness to ourselves is what

We should aim for

Realise what's important

Now look at yourself one more time

And see the true core

Song: Hummingbird by Metro Boomin & James Blake

Hummingbird, summer sun, has it brought my life back? Hangin' in the balance, have you brought the light back? And how long's the night shift? She's sure I get away with Realizin' she might be all I need in this life

When I saw a cold snap, I wasn't with the season Attack was on the airport and outside there was a season In here paper walls are pushing back on you like Eventually you push through, the moment that you realize

And hummingbird, I know that's our time (That's our time) But stay on, stay on, stay on with me And hummingbird, I can never unsee What you've shown me, stay on, stay on with me

🍰 🌸 🍬 💫 🍉 You Are Loved 🍉 💫 🍬 🌸 🍰

🍑Thank you for reading! I would love to know what you think. See you soon!!!🧿

🍏Check out more of my Original Poetry at @cant-find-my-name or my IG Poemnic

🍉Check out my YouTube Channel for more Pick-A-Card Reading : Poemnic -Tarot

🍊Donate

#pick a card #tarot messages #tarot reading #messages #poetry #writing #channeled reading #channelled message

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zapreportsblog · 9 months

Note

Hey stink stink 😘✌🏾 just came to bother you. I was wondering if we could get a 42!miles morales x black! Reader who listens to Lana del Rey. He’s gonna be like “ wtf is this 🤢“ while I’m just hanging out in his uncles house? His room ? Low key don’t care fr . then listen to it and ended up liking her 🧍🏾‍♀️cuz she’s got that calming vibe anyways. Have a good night

You have a goodnight as well, you’ll actually be my last request before I go to bed, it’s like 2am here now and I gotta be up in like 5 hours but I hope you enjoy this fic :)

A Song of Emotions

➥ summary: miles can’t escape his girlfriend’s favorite artist

➥ earth 42 miles x reader

➥ a/n: do leave feedback if you’ve enjoyed it, it’s much appreciated :)

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow across the tranquil neighborhood where Miles resided. It was a peaceful evening, and anticipation tingled in the air as (Y/N) prepared to visit Miles at his home. She clutched her phone tightly, her heart brimming with excitement. There was something she couldn't wait to share with him—the latest song from her favorite artist, Lana Del Rey.

As (Y/N) arrived at Miles's doorstep, a wide smile illuminated her face. She greeted him with a cheerful hug, her enthusiasm palpable. "Miles, you won't believe it! Lana Del Rey just released a new song, and it's incredible! I've been listening to it on repeat all day. I can't wait for you to hear it!"

Miles, not particularly familiar with Lana Del Rey's music, raised an eyebrow in curiosity. He had always appreciated (Y/N)'s enthusiasm for music and her passion for exploring various genres. Still, he couldn't help but feel skeptical about this particular artist. "Lana Del Rey, huh? I've heard her name before, but I can't say I'm a fan. Well, I guess I'll give it a listen for your sake."

The duo settled into Miles's cozy living room, where soft ambient lighting created a tranquil atmosphere. (Y/N) connected her phone to the speakers, her fingers dancing across the screen as she selected the song that had enthralled her heart. With bated breath, she pressed play, and the ethereal melodies of "Sad Girl" filled the room.

As the haunting voice of Lana Del Rey caressed the air, weaving a tapestry of emotions, Miles's initial skepticism began to melt away. He found himself captivated by the melancholic beauty of the song, its poetic lyrics resonating within him. The soft piano chords and the dreamlike atmosphere drew him deeper into the music, allowing him to appreciate its raw vulnerability.

(Y/N) watched Miles closely, her heart filled with anticipation, hoping that he would feel even a fraction of the magic she experienced when listening to this song. Seeing the transformation in his expression, she couldn't help but feel a surge of joy. She knew that music had a way of connecting souls and transcending personal preferences.

“Well that’s enough for me,” miles say getting up mid song and leaving off to the living room where his uncle Aaron was chilling, but little did miles know his girlfriend wasn’t giving up so easily, she was going to make him listen to this song especially after she binged the song like five times in a row now.

As Miles left the room, he made his way to the living room, where his uncle Aaron sat on the couch, engrossed in a book. Miles settled down beside him, ready to engage in some much-needed relaxation.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) couldn't contain her excitement. The melodies of "Sad Girl" still reverberated within her, filling her with a surge of uninhibited joy. With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she stepped out of the room and into the living room, her voice soaring with confidence.

She began to sing, her voice carrying the enchanting lyrics of the song, blending harmoniously with the atmosphere. (Y/N) swayed to the rhythm, her movements fluid and graceful, as she focused on Miles, ignoring the presence of his uncle Aaron.

"Now I'm a sad girl, I'm a bad girl. I'm a nasty girl," her voice resonated through the room, each word filled with emotion. She danced around Miles, inviting him to join in, her eyes locked with his.

Miles's eyes widened in surprise, caught off guard by (Y/N)'s impromptu serenade. He glanced at his uncle Aaron, who was observing the scene with amusement. With a shrug and a playful smile, Miles decided to indulge his girlfriend's infectious energy.

"All right, fine, whatever cariño,” he said, using a term of endearment. "It's not that bad of a song. Especially if it's coming from your lips." Miles stood up, allowing himself to be drawn into (Y/N)'s dance, letting the music guide their movements.

They twirled and swayed, their bodies moving in synchrony to the haunting melodies. As (Y/N) sang, the lyrics painted a picture of their emotions, interweaving their souls through the power of music.

Uncle Aaron watched the couple with a fond smile, recognizing the connection they shared. He understood the importance of embracing moments of joy and vulnerability, especially when it came to matters of the heart.

(Y/N) continued to sing, her voice growing stronger and more captivating with every verse. Miles couldn't help but be enchanted by her performance. He found himself smiling, fully immersed in the moment, as they danced together in a harmonious blend of affection and shared enthusiasm.

The room filled with an aura of warmth and lightheartedness, as the three of them—Miles, (Y/N), and Uncle Aaron—embraced the joyous spontaneity of the moment. It was a reminder that life was meant to be experienced fully, with all its quirks and delightful surprises.

As the song reached its crescendo, (Y/N)'s voice soared, her eyes fixed on Miles with unwavering devotion. With a final note, she brought the impromptu performance to a close, her voice fading into the silence.

Breathless and smiling, (Y/N) stood before Miles, their hands still intertwined. "See, even Lana Del Rey thinks we should dance and be happy," she said, a playful glimmer in her eyes.

Miles chuckled, his heart warmed by (Y/N)'s infectious spirit. "You're right, cariño, Sometimes it's good to let go and embrace the joy that comes our way. Thank you for reminding me of that."

Uncle Aaron, who had been quietly observing, joined in with a clap of his hands. "Well, you two certainly know how to liven up an evening. Keep dancing and singing, my dear niece. Music has a way of bringing people closer."

And so, in the cozy living room, amidst the shared laughter and the echoes of Lana Del Rey's lyrics, Miles and (Y/N) reveled in the simple pleasure of music, knowing that their bond was strengthened through every song they danced to and every melody they sang together.

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xxsycamore · 1 year

Note

Hi! Hope you've been well <3 I want to tell you that I completely adore your writing, it's very detailed and I love it. I hope it's ok to request something for the Late Spring Tryst #6 Gilbert from Ikemen Prince. I can only imagine one of his pictures/events where both MC and Gilbert get caught under the rain. Thank youuu <3

Wait, wait, I didn't say that I'll be taking requests! 😳 But maybe I can try coming up with something for you...👀✨ Thank you so much for your kind words! I hope you can continue to enjoy my works, have a great day! ❤❤❤

𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍

↬ 🖤 Gilbert takes care of his naughty little rabbit, who doesn't mind getting drenched in the rain to have him...

Gilbert von Obsidian x f!Reader • rating: E (MDNI) • tags: Sex in the Rain; Rough Sex; Outdoor Sex; Vaginal Penetration; Vaginal Fingering; Creampie; Biting; Messy Sex; Dirty talk; Verbal Humiliation (mild); Aftercare • wordcount: 1, 713 • masterlist

Running barefoot on the tiled-floor corridors, barely missing your step down the staircase; the following loud creaking of a heavy wooden door being pushed open. It all swirls together in a colorful haze - the world before your eyes, the sounds and then the emotions; and then the sensation joins too, of being hit with a portion of sobering cool air as the outside is unforgiving. Even when you stop on your tracks and fixate the figure on the path ahead, your heart remains of someone running, beating so madly inside your chest.

Your soul is loud in parade, yet the skies are mourning silently. Why must they weep and rain down on the earth that Gilbert is walking? It's his return, yet the clouds disobediently refuse to part and make way even for someone as mighty and daunting as him. Very well then; you shall differ and be met with praise.

"And here I thought I'd surprise you by avoiding the main gates. Could it be that my little rabbit can sense me approaching? Have you missed me that much?"

Surprise you? If he really meant to sneak up on you, he would've done so without a problem; a longing gaze cast randomly past the windowpane was enough to spot him cross under the rose arch marking the entrance to the garden that is facing the back of the castle. It's some kind of test, perhaps, yet you willfully focus on the part resonating with your own version of this rushed meeting holding a deeper meaning, the signal coming from within, like you knew he was coming back early. Something akin to the concept of soulmates. Sweet thoughts rushing in, you quickly make your way across the cobblestone path marking the final meters separating you from him, with open arms. It's a little rough on your bare feet, yet the cold doesn't get to you.

Gilbert's embrace is a source of scorching warmth, but it strangely can't be found anywhere on his skin or under his heavy and warm attire. Like a spark that is needed to light a fuse, when you hug him, the fire envelops you.

Gilbert coos and returns the embrace, his arms resting on your shoulder and your head and act like a temporary shelter from the rain.

"Too taken aback to use words? I understand, for I, too, was overly eager to meet you again. I fantasized about you on the way back a lot, you know."

A lone butterfly flutters in the pit of your belly, not having sought refuge from the rain... The screaming reminder of something takes shape and washes off the innocent happiness of witnessing Gilbert's early return in one strong wave. Would he bring it up?

Looking up at him, you notice what the rain has done to him - dark hair sticking wetly to his cheek, begging you to reach and gently move it out of the way for him; one water drop running down the soaked eyepatch, right at the side of his tall nose, soon to meet the corner of his lips. Your throat is so dry, you realize, gulping down.

"You're out in the rain in that flimsy gown... how reckless, little rabbit..."

His glove-covered hands don't carry the warmth of human flesh, but the goosebumps are inevitably cast upon each and every millimeter of your skin that they graze. Your clothing doesn't do much in your favor, and that's where you want to correct him - it's not recklessness, it's impatience. But he'll interpret that wrong, too.

A harsh groping of your rear.

"What are you- doing-"

"I told you in my letter, didn't I? I'll devour you as soon as you enter my sight."

Fingers sinking into the flesh, the only thing keeping the gossamer from tearing apart under Gilbert's fingernails being the barrier made of black leather - much like the retractable claws of a big cat that simply means to play around and not cause harm. Not that Gilbert cares about your girly little gown, but marring the skin underneath should be a privilege saved for his teeth alone.

"Mm... rain mixes with your scent better than I imaged. Oh yes, I'll definitely will be taking you right here and now."

The reality of his words brings forth another wave - now without a doubt, arousal - over your abdomen and perhaps it's a little embarrassing to whine so early on, but it's too much. He wrecks you with words alone.

He turns you in his embrace, your backside sticking to his front, and the way he grips your jaw still can't distract you enough from the feeling of something hard pressing against your backside.

Hand moving your chin ever so gently, he urges on.

"Tell me, little rabbit, where should I bend you over? How about that tree over there? Or maybe you prefer the rose arch? Tsk, tsk, if only you would've waited a little longer, you could've been rolling in the silk of our bed instead, but alas... you're a naughty girl that would go to borderline animalistic lengths to have me inside her as soon as possible."

It should be more humiliating and definitely less arousing, the way he accuses of those things, yet you give him a further confirmation by grinding back against his tall frame. The little hairs at the back of your neck straighten up with the portion of warm air that leaves his lips, along with the amused chuckle he produces.

It's a mystery how he walks you to where he wants you - feeling a lot like a marionette guided by his hand - and you envy him for remaining so collected. Yet it's in the little things that you find an impatience of his own. The unfastening of his belt, the fingers finding your entrance to prepare for likely rough penetration... it's a little rushed, somehow. It tells you enough about how he feels.

"Aha, so you're already soaked... you can't blame the rain on this one, I'm afraid."

The thin material sticking to your legs has done nothing to make you feel clothed, yet when Gilbert hikes it up, you can't help but squirm. You're outside and practically naked; the spot is hidden from sight with tall branches hanging over the rose arch, yet the thrill is still tremendously present. The blunt head of Gilbert's cock presses against your freshly-fingered entrance, and in a flash all thoughts and feelings unrelated to seeking pleasure dissipate in the spring rain.

"You're sucking me right in... Aww, maybe I should tease you more and pull out before I bottom out all the way in? What sounds would you make then?"

You whimper and throw your head left and right to beg him to reconsider, hoping that it wouldn't make him more amused instead - if he's met with such apparent and vocal protest at the bare suggestion of it, the real thing must be a spectacle to see...but Gilbert can be generous too. If it's hidden behind his own pending need to feel your insides wrapped nice and tight around the entire length of his cock, that's it.

Your loud groan is not drowned in the rain and your hands are too busy keeping you upright to help muffle it, and it's good that they are, because Gilbert sets a steady rhythm right away, threatening to break your fragile balance. His thrusts are deep and hard; if there was a part of you not crazed with the strong feeling of him, now surely there's none. You feel him in your bones.

The target of his love bites this time is your left ear, and it means that you get to hear even the littlest noise of purring approval rising in his throat - the slight pain is coated in strange pleasure, as you've grown addicted to it, your tastes and preferences, your morality, your whole mentality, it's all bent and molten and reshaped into something dreadful and carrying his name.

"Are you going to be good and take my load inside you?"

He doesn't have to ask; it's absurd to think of turning around and wrapping your lips around him when you'll do a poor job of serving him with your mind emptied of coherent thoughts and muscle memory is nowhere near good enough for him. Your pussy clamps down on him, hands gripping the chiseled white stone harder until your knuckles start to resemble it in color. The rain makes the smooth surface of it more slippery, as if to rob you of the little stability you have.

"Just as I thought."

Gilbert is relentless and he presses up so deep inside it almost hurts; all in pursuit of his own pleasure. He hisses and finds it right there in your core, releasing his load inside you. It's scorching and it hits you deep inside, and though you want to fuck yourself back onto his cock, you stay and accept it obediently. Perhaps enjoying it like that is better than the pathetic instinct of your body, and Gilbert is doing you a favor you have to be thankful for. Either way, your pleasure peaks and you moan out his name amidst a strong climax.

The bite on your ear is kissed better, and the cock inside you withdrawn not long after. You didn't realize the stability you were so scared of losing was called Gilbert all along. The rose arch does nothing to hold you upright, and you feel your knees hitting the ground.

"Oh no, little bunny, you'll get all dirty in the mud... did I fuck you too hard and now you can't stand up on your own?"

The air is not enough for breathing, replying to him is out of the question. An unmistakable sensation is registered inbetween your legs, and you realize that Gilbert is watching you leak his cum, legs parted helplessly as you kneel on the wet, hard ground.

"You poor thing... You played in the rain and got all drenched up, didn't you? I guess that's your naughty way of making me pity you, so I can take care of you. But don't worry. I, too, look forward to spending some more special time with you while I warm and clean you up in the bath."

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @ale-teodora @kimi00twin @otomelady @privilegedpancake @g-kleran @pumpumnnnp @thesirenwashere @ravenarld @kimmy-banana @devonares @animeworldsposts @randomanimatedhusbandoseeker @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @pro-cat-stination @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @keen19thcenturygoatsstudent @lordsister @ikemen-banshou @themysticalbeing @canaria-blackwell @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning @aquagirl1978 @ikemenlover24 @violettduchess @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @gilbertvonobsidian @aceuuuuu @atelier-the-atelier Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince gilbert #ikepri gilbert #ikemen gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikemen prince gilbert von obsidian #ikemen series #ikeseries #ikemen #cybird #otome #ikepri fanfic #ikemen prince fanfic #ikepri smut #otome fanfic #late spring tryst ccc

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ecoamerica · 19 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

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doumadono · 8 months

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Emergency request

Good morning!

I wanted to request a comfort fic With one of the following KNY men: Tsugikuni brothers, Muzan or Haganezuka. For over a week I've been dealing with immense lower back pain, I've been to an orthopedist and the painkillers he prescribed help me to some extent, but the pain is still there. I don't know if there is any serious damage, I didn't fall or injure myself in any way for it to happen, I have an X-ray in 12 days, but if it gets worse I'll go to the ER. So far it's suspicious that it's sciatica and overweight from my weight causing this pain. (As if my worsened mental state since November and the stress of failing a semester in college weren't enough). I just need a bit of comfort, I feel like I'm about to have another breakdown this year...

I hope it won't be too much for you to write something to cheer me up a little.

Buziaki, Kamila.

Warnings: female demon!reader Synopsis: following your transformation into a demon, you endure intense pain, and it's Muzan who offers you solace A/N: I'm truly sorry to hear about the pain you've been experiencing. It's understandable that this has been a challenging time for you, especially with the added stress of college. Please know that you're not alone in this, you can always reach out to me, and there are steps we can take to address your lower back pain. While you wait for your appointment, consider some gentle stretches and exercises that can help alleviate sciatica symptoms. Additionally, maintaining a healthy weight through diet and exercise can indeed reduce the strain on your lower back. I encourage you to reach out to a physical therapist who can provide you with a tailored exercise plan to manage your pain. I hope you find solace in this short fic. Writing for Muzan isn't my strong suit, but I gave it my all ♥

MASTERLIST

In the dimly lit chamber, you lay on your side, clutching a pillow to your chest to alleviate some of the pain in your lower back. The recent transition into a demon had been both thrilling and agonizing, leaving you in a constant state of discomfort. Tonight, it seemed like the pain was unbearable.

Just as you were on the verge of tears, the sliding door to your room opened silently, and a tall, enigmatic figure stepped in. It was Muzan, the Demon King himself. His crimson eyes locked onto yours as he approached your bedside. Without a word, he gracefully sat down beside you. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he lifted your trembling hand, examining it for any signs of distress. His voice, smooth as silk, resonated in the room. "You seem to be in pain, my dear."

You couldn't help but nod, tears welling up in your eyes. Muzan's fingers traced the contours of your face, his touch strangely soothing. "There, there," he cooed softly. "I can take your pain away."

With a flick of his fingers, a small orb of blood-red energy materialized, hovering above your lower back. As it descended, a warm, comforting sensation washed over you, and the pain began to subside. It was as if Muzan had the power to mend your very soul.

You watched in awe as he continued to manipulate the energy, kneading away the tension and discomfort. Muzan's gaze never left yours, and there was a warmth in his eyes that defied his reputation as a ruthless demon lord. "Feel better now, my sweet creation?" he inquired softly.

You nodded, a sense of tranquility washing over you. "Thank you, Muzan," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude.

He leaned closer, his lips hovering over your forehead. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and whispered softly, "You have no idea how much you mean to me. You are my dearest creation, and I will always protect and care for you," he murmured before placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Muzan's crimson eyes never wavered from your form. Deep inside yet, a complex blend of emotions swirled within him. Anger simmered beneath the surface, frustration at how long it was taking for you to recover after the transformation. He was the demon king, and his creations should be strong, should adapt swiftly. His fingers, which had been tracing soothing patterns on your arm, tightened imperceptibly. Inwardly, he questioned whether choosing you as another Upper Moon had been the right decision. The Upper Moons were meant to be his elite, his most powerful creations, and your slow progress irked him. Yet, hidden beneath that veneer of frustration and anger, there was another feeling that Muzan kept well-guarded. It was a sense of conviction, a belief that choosing you as an Upper Moon had been not just a good choice but perhaps the only possible one. Deep inside, he recognized a great strength within you, a potential that had yet to fully manifest. There was a reason he had chosen you, a reason beyond what met the eye. He saw in you a future that held the promise of greatness, a strength that would one day rival even his own.

As you rested in Muzan's presence, the lingering concern about the pain after your transformation nagged at you. With a sense of trust growing between you and Kibutsuji, you mustered the courage to speak. "Muzan-sama," you began softly, "can you tell me how long this pain from the transformation will endure? It's been quite overwhelming, and I'm worried about what lies ahead."

Muzan's gaze never left yours, and his fingers continued to trace soothing patterns on your arm. He let out a sigh, almost as if he had been expecting this question. "My dear, the pain varies from person to person. Some demons adapt quickly, while others take more time. It perfectly normal, all you need to do is to be patient." He paused, his eyes flickering with a hint of sympathy. "But I promise you this: with time, the pain will lessen. Your body will adjust to its newfound strength and resilience. And I will be here to guide you every step of the way. You'll become a powerful demon, you'll grow stronger every day."

You nodded, feeling reassured by his words. It was comforting to know that Muzan, despite his intimidating exterior, was willing to offer guidance and support during your transition into a demon. "Thank you, my lord," you whispered, your gratitude evident in your voice.

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, "You don't have to thank me, Y/N. You are mine, and I will ensure that you thrive in this new existence. Now, rest."

As you closed your eyes, wrapped in the comfort of his embrace, you realized that perhaps, in this moment, Muzan wasn't just the fearsome demon king but also a source of unexpected solace in your new life as a demon.

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tomarrybigbang · 6 months

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At long last, the SFW 2023 masterpost is here! 🎉

Please note that, due to tumblr post restrictions, the submissions for this year have been split into 2 posts. Please enjoy the culmination of all your incredible SFW creations under the cut below. Meanwhile the NSFW post can be found in a separate link here. 📚🖌️

Before diving into the works, it needs mentioning that this event wouldn't have been possible without all the writers' and artists' dedication, creativity, and unwavering support. Thank you from the bottom of our hearts for making 2023 a resounding success! 🙌

And a special shout-out to our fantastic backup artists who generously offered their time and talent at the last minute to ensure this event's success. Your contribution is invaluable, and we're deeply grateful for your commitment. 🙏💞

1A • Master of Death and Magic's chosen by Lerya

Art by Hufflapute

1B • Meaningless by souein

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mononijikayu · 4 months

Text

to build a home ━ geto suguru ft nanami kento.

That was the end of it. They can't take much more of this pain. Suffering for a goodbye that would never be repeated. This cannot be true. They reflected to themselves. You also have a life. A different way of living. It's unjust to Kento, to blame him for their loneliness, their suffering. It's unjust to them, it's unjust to Suguru. They must make the first step. To make it final. To let him go for good. This is what saves them, this is what graces them in front of god.

note: i found an old draft of something i did and i thought it would be perfect for an angsty suguru writing, especially after rewatching fleabag. i started to joke yesterday that i'll do a suguru partner to 'time after time' and here we are now, me crying over what i made.

the final scene is inspired by the ending of fleabag. i cried through it but it really was something that triggered my heart strings. every good love story deserves a good closure when it ends. happy christmas again!!! let's hope this is my last idea in a while!!! its starting to make me cry too <333

Genre: No Curses AU, Priest Suguru AU, Fleabag AU;

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, First Love, Grief, First Heartbreak, Break Up, Emotional Scars, Forbidden Love, Star Crossed Lovers, Closure to Healing;

masterlist

play: to build a home by cinematic orchestra.

THEY DOESN’T KNOW WHY THEY WERE HERE IN THE FIRST PLACE. The mass of such a dull cup was ultimately the most significant in that moment, reminding her of the heaviness that pounded through her shoulders. While they drank, their bright eyes shot into the already icy black pools. They could feel it, the way their pulse thumping with the power only felt when a hammer slams on an anvil.

A drop of black coffee shouldn't be pouring on the surface of that gleaming white envelope, their familiar seal on the edge. Like it used to when they were younger. Their pupils constricted as the cup clicked on the surface of the little chilly plate. The question resurfaced in their mind as if it had not already been blatantly obvious to themselves.

‘Why am I so scared?’ The words echoed in their head, silently. ‘What does it matter if it spills or not? It’s just an envelope.’

Though that wasn't just any ordinary envelope. They pursued their lips as the truth revealed everything without care for a wait. They felt another flurry of child-like recklessness within them once again. For a brief moment, their warm gaze was visible. The lost purity of their youth, which they had thought to have lost long ago, had reappeared. They sighed, unsure of what to do.

The icy loneliness of the envelope's borders, as it sat calmly discarded not far away from them, made it impossible to convey to them. The soft whisper of darkened skies made it impossible to tell if it was morning. Yet within their memories, the brightness of the morning dawn has always resonated with a pleasant unattainable radiance. They couldn't sleep again today. That day kept returning to the young soul. They felt as though it was akin to another grievous reminder of those warm-hearted charcoal eyes they had once loved.

They lowered their head, almost ashamed. All they could feel inside of them was that searing anguish filling their heart with nothing but agony. There was no peace in the confines of their heart. There is no peace on those nights, even if the moon sings pleasant things to soothe her to sleep. They knew that there was nothing but horrors. He visited their dreams almost every night.

He smiled so beautifully against the shine of the moon. Like that summer night where they first kissed. They were letting all the memories they had buried haunt them. These nightmares always comprised the sweetest smiles and bitter goodbyes. The cozy bed had somehow become an opponent. It seemed as though they were wallowing in a terrible abyss of quicksand in the luxuries of their cold feather bed, with no way out. It didn't help to stay unmoving, alone in this unmade bed, staring up at the plain white ceiling.

They had loved Kento enough; They truly did. But he wasn't home, he wasn't there to fill that space. To replace that emptiness, to make a home out of the numb loneliness. he was a merchant by trade. The nomad who ceaselessly took the opportunity that life had to offer. Yet he too was a serious man who took his responsibilities to the people he loved seriously as long as he could. Yet Kento was someone who had no permanence in the warmth of home.

When he was home, it was something that still showed the gaps, the distance that had come with their degree of separation. Their little arrangement, their little life together, had once been beautiful at one point. But now all it does is make them lonely, now it makes them infuriated. Yet there was no one left to blame.

What was there to be angry about? He needed to keep what life being lived going, much of that relied on him. There was little to complain about, when they agreed about it before they had decided to become one. After all, these years had been lived in a garden of thorns. Nothing was easy.

They should be thankful he had worked at all. Others have had a harder time than them, losing homes and the meal on the dinner table. Yet in Kento’s absence, their gaping heart was filled with those bright beaming memories of their first love. Everything about those memories were painted in vibrant pastels. Everything was so bright and new.

He smiled at them, rushing toward them direction as his dark locks spun across the pillows like a constellation weaving through the wide open sky. On those lonely nights, they did not want to think of him as much as they did. But one never forgets that long lost love. In those nights, they could not admit to anything but anguish and pointing fingers, blaming Kento for not being by their side. They wanted to blame him. It was easier that way, blaming the man they had committed to life with.

Because they cannot stop thinking of his eyes that narrowed down at them tenderly. They couldn't get those memories out of their head, their mind craved everything about that charming man who had captured this wanting heart all those years ago. They had created quite a world, nay a universe, just for him.

Everything within that universe was devoted to cherishing, worshiping memories of that man already dried in the inked pages. But they could not help it. Geto Suguru was too hard to forget, too hard to bury in the past. When you fall in love the first time, nothing ever comes close. Nothing ever comes to be beyond the world that had embraced them for years and years.

How much they had remembered all those years of being in his strong, warm arms. The repeatedly lonesome bed trapped and bound their body and soul to the seclusion of the darkness. Their feet were firmly planted on the floor, their body towering over the diner. Arms resting upon their chest, the echoes of their heart beat unlike any other. They knew that they had no feeling of coherence. Nothing felt real, nothing felt true. Everything had been a blur—a never-ending darkness that had cleared them completely, leaving nothing but a void.

They recalled the way they had carelessly bruised themselves when they had awoken from another nightmare. Mindlessly, They walked in the dark narrow halls as quietly as they could. They did not wish to wake Kento’s father from his slumber, not when he was ill. Their hands had been weak as they stumbled into the kitchen to get the warm water pitcher. There were no tears streaming from their weary eyes.

There was no sound from their lips, and no effort had been taken to prevent the spreading of shattered glass. They simply stared. They had no sense of sanity. There is no reality meter to gauge their consciousness. Simply as motionless as the fruit resting on the marble counter. They watched as the overflowing water pooled through the broken whole like a deluge had challenged the pieces of glass across the floor.

"Why am I doing this?" Their thin crimson lips let out a quiet whimper as they bowed their fatigued head in the heavenly air. Their brilliantly bright bonnet trailed behind them, shielding their eyes. "There's nothing else to say. I said that last time.....He was the one that said goodbye. I've been doing so great. And now….."

Yet somehow, They couldn't tear their attention away from the envelope, that begged bare fingertips for their warmth to give life to the inanimate pages of living, haunting love. To whisper those same words of affection that they had abandoned years ago, to match the fondness of the words within its frames. Their index finger marched forward, unafraid. The brightness of the platinum band on their ring finger reprimanded them in a scolding glow at that time.

They hesitated once more, their heart beating harshly against the flesh of their body. The reign of fears killed the resolute strength within them. They bite tenderly at their lower lip in anxious softness. They had made their peace with everything a long time ago, at least that is what they said. So there was no reason to be misled, to be misled by feelings settled in the corner of the mind’s palace. The shadows of their face reverberate like a ghost that begs to be finally laid to rest as the light weakly glows.

Yet, just like a wandering phantom wishing for relief, They realize that this was heaven’s bestowed fate. To be bound to the barren earth with the haunting memories of the life that had been lived like a gramaphone on repeat. To travel through the life they may have had, to torment her like her into a never-ending misery-like haunting bestiality. A never-ending hell that never ends.

Moving steadily, They held her hands into a chain, They felt the unending chill that only winter could provide. Is this how it has been for all this time since they split up? Have they truly been this miserable? Have they truly abandoned themselves to the abyss of grief, of longing? Of yearning for something that will never return?

The spring they had loved has yielded to winter, its vivacity has long since faded. They knew that too well. But they could not help but return to spring in long locked away memories. That spring was where they can admit they had been the happiest. The truest to themselves. Because he was there.

It was because Geto Suguru had been the melody of that song through the truth of the heart. Suguru's youth belonged to them. As much as they knew that their own youth belonged to him. That spring was for the two of them to own, only theirs and no one else’s. Greedily, that’s what they believed.

Those blooming flowers formed their gentle smile and made their heart pulse with the thrill that came with young love. It was the way he laughed so boyishly as he raced the length of the flower fields. Their eager gaze followed him, the wind eager to dance across those flower fields. The crinkle of mischief drifts through the sky to mingle with the beam of rainbow lights.

The lark eyed young man looked at them as though it was like sunflower beams. The loving words seemingly flowed out like lovely echoes of hummingbird melodies. There had been the sweet touch of hands wrapped around them with such happiness, the delight of being together as the sound of the river's quiet whistles.

It all came flooding home, that mellow breeze that led their love, in each and every moment they traveled the paths they had taken, arms locked together. Nobody had an inkling. Not even their parents. The spring dalliance, that became so much bigger of a world than anything else, was all their own.

It had been the perfect love, belonging to the two of them. The only one they had told had been their uncle Yaga. He took pity on a broken soul, they knew. Those eyes filled with such wrestling grief. That conflict, that wanting, that yearning. He knew it too well. It was his kindness that allowed her to escape Tokyo after Suguru parted from them, to save her from growing mad.

Away from those dark eyes that continued to watch over them in the distance. Those lark bright that only mourned him just as much as they did. There was an echo in their soul which reached out to him, spoke in such a terrible voice; a voice they didn't even remember having. It had been so loud and angry. Yet Suguru merely smiled at them, ever so mournful as theirs was.

'I mourn the person we once were,” He whispered to them in the tender gaze of the altar, looking at them as their voice echoed in the basilica's bright glass windows. “Such brilliant splendor that’s long past us now, my love.”

They could not help but feel melancholy about remembering the spring. They had come to hate it, even Kento just knew. Barely leaving their studio, abandoning the sight of warm blossoms of roses across the neighbor's front lawn. They decided to have to care for it any longer. It was too fleeting. Too young, too eager. Things that they were no longer. Spring provides us with a small sliver of careless youth.

The flowers in that spring bloomed, as did the love they both thought was impossible. However, spring must always give way to the beginning of fall. It was now October, and the hardest rain was anxiously awaiting freezing into the hammering winter cold. One in which They had come to be caged in. Like dragons of old who lived in caves in the abandon of endless silence. Alone to dwell on what was and what could have been in the present, which only deepens their agony.

It was the most heartbreaking moment of their existence. To watch the etches of their fair face contort to grief, to fear and to tears. The tears they had wished they had never come to shed. Suguru had been the one to tell them, to relay those words that ripped them apart like a harsh ocean wave rushing through.

The words of their father, the words of a man who used the woman he said he loved like a chess piece. To further his rise to the top of politics. They had been young then, when their father had bragged of doing such a thing. Of hurting their mother like it was a holy act in the eyes of god.

When Suguru informed them that he cannot be with them any longer, they were taken back to that memory of their father. That heartache that shattered the dreams of a child. Nothing was absolute in the world, not even love. Not the way they had wanted. Not the way Suguru desired. It was to be a sin, a sin that would go against the word of the holy book he considered ever so sacred.

It was Suguru’s path, he told them so clearly, hammered with familiar hurt—one that reminded them of their own grief. The two of them sat on the bed they used to sleep in together, the sunshine dulled by the venomous dark clouds which had gathered to see such a scene. But they remembered the distance that had formed in the sky. They remembered how warmly the tears of parting fell, one after another like the pouring rain. The warmth of the pillows grew cold with the solemn shadow of their own body.

As they sat there immobilized, their eyes began to echo bloodshot red. Their habitually loud voice was hushed into soundless sobs for a short time — they had no words to say. All that passed through their mind couldn't seem to understand, to register this new reality that was now happening. It hadn't occurred to them how everything had morphed towards something they didn't wish to be a part of. A life they did not want to change forever. It was worse to wait, to watch for him to turn to them and be reminded that they could not be together any longer.

It felt like they were walking towards their shallow grave. They could not do it, couldn’t deal with it any longer. He did not want to be miserable, as much as they didn’t. Being together until that moment felt like a dream, and now it is a nightmare. Yet remembering, repeating those phrases, those words, felt like they burned in flames. They felt like they burned every inch of their flesh into ash. It was the feeling of being poured into a wild sea to be swallowed by an agitated wave , to drown in everything. Suguru whispered those words in the past tense, tears pouring from his eyes.

Those words they hated, over and over. The value of those whispers of ‘i love you’ in repeated order, followed by buts and excuses, by deviation, by cancellation, by subtraction. They etched in these fragile veins and poisoned them to death. It was a curse, to love. And yet it continued, as easily as breathing. Those words had made a fool of them, laughing at them. And They would never be the same again. There was nothing left for fools. Nothing.

“But you love god.” They whispered back, brows furrowing into sorrow. “More than you love me.”

“I’m sorry.” He kissed the top of their hair, smiling ever so apologetically. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

Suguru had left that flat the next day, a letter left on the counter along with the keys. The nooks and corners empty, from where he hid his variety of morning tea to the little books he would read as the sun would rise to greet them. They stood frozen, staring at what had remained. The flat was cold, so dreadfully cold. They just stared, with their eyes burning in pain and crimson shine from the tears that would not stop pouring. They did not take it well.

They'd flung aside the blankets that had filled with muted tones of their disheveled look, scrambling across their face like a hurricane. They didn't want to think about it. They didn’t want to be reminded of it. Yet all there was left was reminders. Nothing but ruins in the once great space that was their own. That life no longer materialized into being, not here. As lonely as the dead trees, stripped of the foliage that once decorated their twigs. Life cannot exist where there is no sun, life cannot exist without the warmth of water, nor can it exist without the oxygen in their lungs. There was none here. Nothing was here, other than barren life.

Moving into a modest shack of an apartment in the far out districts of Tokyo, nearer to the other prefectures than anything else. Uncle Yaga was the one that had suggested it to them, as it had been far enough from the capital. It was a new perspective, a new sign of life — one that could perhaps heal them. He told them that he had once sought refuge in the far flung district’s vibrant feel, having departed himself once more in his nomadic pleasures. They had been blessed by his suggestion.

The bright street lamps comforted them at night. The sight of morning air that came through had been a gentle kiss on their welcoming of that first lonely sunrise. There was a buzz of excitement that filled them as they watched different people stroll the streets every day, suitcases in hand and speaking different tongues. They all were hoping, gathering their strength to start a new life, just as they had. In a manner, they were maintained by this encounter every day. In a sense, it made them feel like they weren't the only one going towards a new chapter in life. They were not alone for the first time in a long time.

Though uncle Yaga sent money regularly, they too were able to find some work. It had helped them somewhat, the world still reeling from the financial disaster that had recently plagued the nation. They have been able to save enough money recently. And in those times, they had come to be interested in pottery. They seem to notice the solace of it, having watched some locals make clay pots for their meals and as gifts. Soon enough, they wanted to try it all out. They had been eager to find the materials.

But they did not know where to start, unable to find the ones that they liked enough to suit the ideas They had in their head to come to life. A small sigh passes their lips. They had the confidence to think that learning would be easy, but it had not been. But They had been glad to have this moment to start something new. A new hobby meant a new life. And a new life meant moving forward. Life finally goes on.

On that cold winter morning in January, they met an old man who had come from central Tokyo only a few months before. He had moved to the city a while ago, he said. To be closer to his son who had become his carer. Having suffered burns across his body after an accident had happened in his home, his only child had been wanting to take care of his father so that he would not be alone.

They had been surprised about him. He was an intelligent man, but he was stern and rarely smiled, often in heavy bouts of pain. But they do not blame him. His burns had not completely healed. Often, it was only morphine that could put him to rest.

They met the old man’s son soon enough. Their neighbor, Nanami Kento, had been kind to them when they first met. It had all begun when they had struggled with their purchases from the market and he had been willing to lend a hand. He had always smiled at them with his thin lips, blossoming craters upon his cheeks.

He was a beautiful man, with his light blond hair and his soft brown eyes. They were nearly the same height, but it did not perturb him. Still, there were corners they could not reach, even with their height. Kento had been the one to help them, reaching forward so devotedly.

It was obvious that he had been a bigger man in a frame than them, though. Kento’s father had bragged about it, certainly. They could see Kento’s cheeks redden ever so brightly. They could only find themselves laughing along with Kento’s father as he reacted even more expressively. For a while, Kento had kept them company as time went by. That had soothed them and kindly given them something to look forward to. From the friendship that blossomed, they had found something they had longed to have in a long time — a true laugh.

There had not been any interaction with the two of them, for a time after that. Kento admitted to them that for a while, he pondered if he should continue developing affinity with them. When they allowed him to continue to explore the depth of that warmth between them, Kento had been certain to be nothing but good to them.

He respected them too much, giving them much more than any one, even Suguru, had afforded them. When they talked, there was not a semblance of awkwardness. Not once did they feel any dull moments hit the tune they danced to. It had been easy to just be with him. The burdens did not exist in his every touch, not even in his gazes. The warmth of his embraces had enraptured their cold body, eager for the warmth of someone’s care.

That made them feel relieved, to not be alone any longer. There was comfort in someone’s kindness and truthfulness. From then on, they had always been aided by him. That’s why they had felt as though they too would like to return the favor, taking the responsibility of taking care of his father when they had the time to do so.

They had conversed with him when the older man had no company in the apartment’s commune. Kento had sent them a telegram saying that he would be home later tonight, but the trains had a mishap.They had switched his reserved seat for another day and it took a while to fix with the officers of the train.

As such, Kento asked them to take care of his father till he returned. They had no qualms with doing so, having a day off that day. Besides, Kento had told them that his father had been melancholic after his mother had passed. His father needed someone and they were willing to step forward to be that someone.

They had not known the language he was now speaking, the deep thick accent of his words befuddled from the hale of medication he was taking. It did not seem he understood what they were saying in reply either. Yet during the times that he did, it had made them warm inside. Today seemed like a good day, where they responded back to them.

Today, he seemed to know what they had been saying though, smiling when they told him good things that happened at the market this morning. But for the most part, they created a language through actions. At least when the older man had been capable. But most days, the two of them sat to enjoy the day. Just by sitting together to enjoy the warmth of the small fireplace in their apartment. It was enough to have someone.

Kento’s father had been someone who had been interested in pottery, as far as teaching it for years when he had been a younger man in the capital’s finest schools. Kento had told themthat it had been part of their family’s history, as his grandfather had been a historian who studied the history of their family’s hometown. His father had become intrigued by the pots and vases they would find, eventually deciding to focus on such studies and practice.

It piqued their interest, for the most part, watching Kento’s father tell them ceramics he had taken with him from all the places he had come to work when he was able. Most clearly on days when the morphine had not overtaken him. Some he had made by hand, practicing methods that had long been gone and reviving them one motion at a time. But now they were only stories, his body no longer able to do as he wished, in particular, took her interest. Bright golden streaks echoed through the plate like golden rain, wonderfully varnished with nothing but the finest finish. When they turned a moment later to ask, they had gotten the reply.

“That had been from the days of old.” Kento’s father whispered to them, gazing at them with a small smile. “They called it kintsugi, young one.”

Their eyes gazed at him questioningly. “What is that?”

The old man gazed at them with warm almond eyes and smiled at her, speaking. “Something that is broken being fixed with gold, child. To be whole again. It is a kindness, an echo of beauty. A new life.”

For a moment they blinked, stunned that he had gathered himself in his chair with a painful groan.

“A new life?”

The old man smiled at her once more, faintly this time. “All that is broken — is not truly broken. It is just waiting to find a way to be alive again. That is why they used to fix it with gold. Life for the broken can be golden too. There is always a new path to walk on again, young child.”

That moment made their heart flutter, almost as if they had been waiting their whole entire existence for those words to be said to them. Warm words of simple solace were sometimes more than the warmth of the fire crackling in the room. It was the most genuine warmth against the winter. Tears streamed down their cheeks. They could only whisper, "Thank you."

Ever since then, they had come to be fond of the artistry of kintsugi—pooling as much as they could to the devotion of new passions. It was a new life they had been living, excitement pumped through veins. In these two years, they had ended up getting lessons from Kento’s father on pottery when he was able to instruct. It had been a pleasant time, having to spend carelessly after work in the wonderful pool of stories, of myths, and of time gone by that had suddenly made them forget about the mournful heartbreak.

When he was in too much pain, they nursed him to rest and afterwards, continued to do as they pleased with learning the art of the pottery. The wind that cooled their body from the open window had been refreshing, the exhaustion of work pondering their body. It had been for a new exhibition, one that had come after the other. It had been something that had surprised them, that such skillful artistry would become the wholeness of their current life. But it fulfilled them, it had filled the gaps they had with gold—to live again as they had always had. Forward.

In a moment as they dipped their hands in the cold pools in the bowl, they did not remember how lost they had been when the already gone had seeped through. It had been pouring lately, but it had been expected, especially as their quarter was always affected by the autumn rains. Pursing their lips, the young soul could only sigh as they saw the roof still dripping from last night’s wistful rain.

It had always slipped their mind, to tell Kento about the leaking roof. But it could not be helped as they gazed at the open window. They would tell him when he gets home from work, he would fix it. Leaning forward, they watched what remained of the rain pour through.

For a moment, their mind explored the corner it always returns to. The smile on her lips as they chased them, playing those childish games. The cold rains were heavily drenching their Sunday dresses, readying for church. But those lark eyes did not care.

No, they were paved with mischief. They were a wildfire, burning through with his loud laughter. Those were happy moments, their memories whispered, Memories that yearned for him, that adored him. Urging them to open her heart once again, to love the ghost haunting them. That moving forward should mean loving what was already passed.

No, now at this moment — they shook their head. They will not go back to those memories. They will not. They felt happy. This was their life now, their new life. And they are doing well. They are happy, even. Happier than ever before. They felt content in the already small space crowding in the wonder of sketches across the battered walls.

The round table is full of drying plaster vases, letting the hot sun beckon it frozen in the summer heat. The smell of charcoal gathered across their blackened fingers, as they rubbed them against the planned design. At that moment, the new path had become dipped in gold. And for that, they were grateful. There was no need. No need to return .

But when the night came, they nearly dropped the envelope.

Kento had returned, placing a kiss upon the temple of their head.

Their left hand over their lips, the ring echoing a tender promise.

‘Had Yaga give me up to him?’ They panicked, their heart beating wildly. ‘No, he wouldn’t do that to me…..But still, how did he?…’

“Are you alright?” Kento lowered his gaze at his lover, questioning them. For a moment he was worried. They had been tearing up, still staring at the letter. Putting his soft hands against their shoulder, the shine of the ring finger beckoned against the early dawn. “‘Hey, what’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” They whispered to him, wiping away their tears, and tore the envelope and threw it in the bin. “It was nothing.”

His gaze beckoned towards the bin and then to them. “Are you sure? It’s nothing bad, is it?”

“No, it was just an advert. Nothing important.” They gave him a small smile to reassure him. But his eyes could see that the light in his lover’s eyes was dim. “Selling me those ridiculously expensive silver pots again.”

“I see.” He did not want to overwhelm his lover by asking. He pursed his lips and turned to them, putting his hands on their face. Rubbing their cheeks, he tried to comfort them with his touch.

But they turned their face slightly away from him. “It’s just that. It’s not that important.”

The fondness across his lips deepened. “You don’t have to buy them, you know. I know you hate them. But I suppose the ad may be telling us something. I’ll take you, we’ll buy you something. Even if it's not the silver pots. You need to treat yourself, love. Tell me. I’ll buy it for you.”

“I just….” They could not find the words to say. Their heart beating fast, They clutched their hands onto it as though to beg for it to stop. “I’ll decide later….it could just be another waste of money, you know?”

He shook his head laughing. “Spoiling you, making you smile. It will never be a waste of money, you got it?”

They pierced their lips in a tender line and then smiled, nodding.

He sighed softly, satisfied. Kento put his hands on their shoulders and then their arms. Moving close to them, he allowed his body to caress them. They had rested their head onto his shoulders, quietly accepting his comfort. They had stayed that way for a while, Kento knowing he would have to leave in a couple of minutes.

He indulged himself to comfort them at this time when he would not see them for a couple of days at most. He needed to be with them. In all times he can be there, he will be. It was the least he could do, after being so far away from them all this time. He loved them with all his heart, after all. When they had parted, he grabbed his coat and put his hat on. He turned to them, smiling widely at them. Her fingers played at the texture of his trench coat.

“I’ll be back as soon as possible. I would not want to miss dinner with your uncle.” He tells them, caressing his lover’s long spread of hair tenderly. “I’ll hurriedly finish work and come straight home, hm? I’ll bring some flowers too.”

They let out a small laugh. “I’ll look forward to it.”

He kissed the edge of their temple and then their cheek before they separated once again. Finally, he gathered his lips around theirs and softly hugged them. They peered into one other's eyes, before they laughed. Kento whispered his goodbyes and heard them say farewell. When they had closed the door, reality shook her to its core. It had his name on the mail, written as sender. It had been Suguru's name. They hurried to the bin, opening it and taking the torn letter.

Tears streamed down in their eyes as they realized that the wound had reopened. The shadows of the past had come and rushed like a flood, like a sudden thunder from the skies. They had been found once more, they had been yearned for. Suguru had written to them. After all this time, he wanted them.

They stared at the torn letter and burst into a sob, guttural almost like an animal’s wild cries. In a soundless fall of their body on the floor, heavy tears surged like an infinite wave of ripping currents. Their arms shook as they clutched themselves, gathering over their shoulder blades.

All the emotions they had felt at the time, and yet still felt, hurried back to them like lightning striking the soil over and over. Everything had returned. All that they had buried within the back of their mind. All that they had fought to bury six feet under, they had all but risen from the dead. They couldn’t stop themselves from embracing the cuts of the envelope as though they were cradling the most precious thing in the world.

Suguru’s name echoed in the bits and pieces of shredded paper. After all this time, he still remembered them. After all this time, there was still that wanting, that forbidden desire. But it would never happen now. After putting Kento’s father into bed and aided him to sleep that night,their restless abandon in the pool of recalling tears called them awake.

And here in this lonesome space, with this torn letter — this torn letter that shouldn’t even exist. Suguru was now living his dream, his destiny, his duty. There were children laughing every day in the choir of the church. Satoru still visits, sometimes with Shoko. Suguru had taken in twin girls in the church, adopting them after their parents had left them at the steps of the large gates. He was living his dream, he had his life now. His life was now fulfilled. Full of the newfound hope and laughter.

Geto Suguru should be doing well. He was happy. He said as much in his appointment at the church. They were there, a witness as his dreams tore apart years of a home built in each other. Suguru smiled at them from all the way in the back. They choked a sob and stood, leaving. It was enough, seeing him then. Dazzling in the bright golden crucifix on his chest and the most beautiful black robes and that mantle of yellow–gold. That had been enough of a scene, that should have been the ending of those pictures in the theater. That should have been the end.

‘But his dark lark-like eyes. His eyes were grieving you.’

Reeling in a moment of rewind, the words in the card makes them feel like they were going to burst into tears once again. Suguru had become one with god, become one with the divine, with the duty of the sacred. That world is treating him well. They prayed every day, in the silence of their repeating days, that he would always be well. That he’ll always be healthy.

That he would always be happy. That god would always favor him. They knew that god would always be kind, god will always be merciful, god would grant their prayers. They knew that. After all, god has taught love. And in their heart, there was only love for the man that had made her feel what love truly looks like.

There was that day, that day in central Tokyo, when Kento had brought them for a day out with his father. They were going to visit his mother’s grave. In the markets, they walked and talked. Deciding what to give in offering to the temple and then to his mother. Yet it caught their eye immediately. The same long tresses of hair, as charcoal as the night.

The same sound of laughter echoing from the distance. Dark priestly robes beckoned his body, kind words poured through the sanctity of his lips. Behind him were two young girls, dressed in long dresses, trailing behind him so tenderly. Silver crosses were on their necks, a gift no doubt from the priestly man, the godly man, that had taken them in.

The two girls shared the same shine, same passion in their eyes as Suguru does. Jolly in the tenderness, they were so beautiful in the morning sun. They felt their heart break at the sight, as they lowered their parasol and let the sight be gone. For the past to just be the past. For life to move forward. It was better that way. For the two of them. It was better to forget than remember. Yet, that’s what they did.

They had wept ever so silently all night when they returned home, trying their hardest to not be seen by their lover. They did not want Kento to worry. They did not want to trouble him in his sleep. They did not want to cause more suffering. Not for them, not for the memory of the long lost love they knew Kento could never replace. There must not be anymore reminiscing, there must not be anymore yearning. There must not be any more curiosity.

‘I don’t miss you.’ They whispered to their restless heart as they wept. ‘I do not miss you.’

Their hands grasped the envelope with a trembling breath. They chewed at their thin lips even more as they trembled and felt the tears flood. They looked at the envelope with eyes shaking, too unwilling to say goodbye. A harsh cry came from them as the shaking hands clasped together, cutting through the coherence to incomprehensible fragments that would never be whole again.

They gathered them in their hands and stood, allowing the tears to pour. They shut their eyes once They reached the bin, as if they were mourning a death. Even after these many years, perhaps they will always mourn. This was a tragic death that will never be forgotten. A death that would haunt them for the rest of their life. They apologized as they stared at the bits, whispering those words of devoted love that had long been banished from her lips.

They cried Suguru’s name repeatedly, at each repetition, it was almost like a prayer more than anything else. Those words of love died as much as their beloved Suguru’s name did in each round of breath. They said tearful goodbyes, each and every time. They murmured the parting words of her love. They watched as their body moved on its own and flung them aside moments later.

They put their gloves back on their hands and their bonnet back on their small head as they paid for their drink in eerie silence. The staff had not been there, but they left the payment anyway. The tears dried sooner than later, and their heart had no more space to become even more numb at each pang of the ache. But it was all for the best.

Kento’s father will be walking soon, and they needed to arrange breakfast for him. They felt the frigid wind surge through their shrouded bodies as they strolled through the dimly lit streets, and They pondered if it was god above comforting them, just as Suguru used to say. They wondered if all would ever be okay. That they were pleased with what they had done.

Their lips let out a forlorn sigh as they slid their hands into the sleeves of their coat. They took a deep breath and started to walk home, the echoes of their footsteps merging with the silent cries of their heart. Memories of love, now tinged with the bittersweet hues of what once was.

“It was nothing.” They whispered to the calm air, convincing themselves. “It was just what it was in the end.”

They smiled and paused as they saw a falling star.

“I’m living well, Suguru.”

“I’m glad to know that.”

They turned their head up as they halted, under the light.

Their mouth opened as the dark eyed priest smiled at them.

He still looked so beautiful, especially now, under the moonlight.

They halted, facing each other, and the dim light revealed the lines etched by time on Suguru's face. It must have been a moment of peace for Suguru, his steps measured and deliberate, a silent echo of the morning rituals he once shared with them. He always loved walking, embracing the fresh air as the world awoke. The memory of those quiet mornings lingered, a haunting reminder of a love that once flourished like the flowers touched by the first light of dawn.

As Suguru drew closer, the streetlamp cast a glow upon the contours of his face, revealing the weariness that came with the weight of his choices. His eyes, reflective pools of regret and nostalgia, met theirs, and for a moment, time stood still. The priestly robes draped around him seemed to carry the burden of unspoken confessions and silent prayers.

He had seemed all grown up, his hair longer than it had been all those years ago. Yet, he was still whom they knew. The person they had loved the most in the world. Their very heart, right in front of them, as though they had never parted.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

Suguru smiled at the sound of their voice, his steps slowing as if time itself had granted them a brief moment of suspended reality. The street lamp flickered, casting dancing shadows that played across his somber features. His eyes, once filled with the warmth of shared memories, now held a distant recognition.

"Long time no see," they whispered, the words escaping their lips in a hushed tone, laden with a mixture of nostalgia and restraint. The blink that followed seemed to bridge the gap between the past and the present, a futile attempt to clear away the emotional fog that hung between them.

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you too.”

"Sugu—No, uh, Father. Father Geto," they stammered, the words catching in their throat as they struggled to reconcile the familiarity of the old name with the newfound title of reverence. The transition from the intimate to the formal underscored the undeniable transformation Suguru had undergone.

A fleeting sadness crossed Suguru's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the divide that now existed between them. The weight of the priestly robes seemed to intensify, as if the fabric itself bore witness to the complexities of their shared history.

Whispers of the impossibilities that had consistently echoed in his mind for years when it came to them, to the life they could have had. The life they could have deserved. He was certain that their words shattered him, his mind full of chances and roads not taken.

"Indeed, it has been a long time," Suguru replied, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken truths. The use of the formal title added a layer of formality to their exchange, a thin veil attempting to conceal the depth of the emotions lingering beneath the surface.

A heavy silence settled between them, and the flickering street lamp seemed to cast a spotlight on the unresolved tension in the air. Their gaze lingered on Suguru's face, searching for traces of the person they once knew within the contours of the priest before them.

Father Geto, his expression a mask of duty and restraint, nodded in acknowledgment.

"Yes, it has," he replied, his voice a measured cadence that echoed through the quiet night.

They bit their lower lip, a nervous habit that betrayed the turbulence within. The words unsaid, the questions unasked, hung in the air like a delicate thread waiting to unravel. The night embraced the weight of their emotions, and the street lamp continued to flicker, casting its dim glow further upon the scene—a reunion tainted by the passage of time and the choices that led them down divergent paths.

Their eyes shimmered with unshed tears as Geto Suguru let the passage of time settle in the air. The chasm between them widened, and in that moment of silence, it seemed to stretch into eternity—a vast expanse of unspoken emotions and missed opportunities.

"Suguru," They whispered, unable to mask the vulnerability in their voice. The name hung between them, a bridge attempting to span the gap created by titles and time.

Suguru's gaze flickered with a mixture of pain and understanding. Yet in between, so much love. So much devotion – sealed away for what remained of all his life. Reserved for a lifetime where his yearning to duty, to god, did not win.

"Please," he began, the weight of his own emotions evident in the quiver of his voice, "Call me Father Geto. It's the only way we can navigate this... this impossibility."

The words hung heavy in the air, a poignant acknowledgment of the constraints that bound them. They merely nodded, a small, pained acceptance of the reality that lay before them.

"Father Geto," They uttered, the words tasting foreign on their tongue.

A sigh escaped Suguru's lips, a fragile exhale carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies.

"I never wanted it to be like this," he confessed, his eyes betraying a sadness that transcended the boundaries of their shared history.

"I know," they replied, aching with the burden of understanding. The streetl amp's flickering light cast a dance of shadows on Suguru's face, emphasizing the lines etched by time and choices.

The heavy silence persisted, a tangible force that hung in the air like a shroud. Their gaze fought to be tender as they remained fixed on Suguru's face, as though trying to find solace in the familiar features that had once provided comfort and warmth.

Father Geto, a master of self-discipline, struggled to maintain the mask of duty and restraint.

"We are bound by different paths now," he said, each word resonating with the finality of their choices.

They took a hesitant step forward, as if attempting to breach the invisible barrier between them.

"Do you ever regret it?" they asked, their voice a mere whisper in the quiet night.

Suguru's eyes, haunted by the ghosts of what could have been, met theirs.

"I would be lying if I said I didn’t," he admitted, the confession heavy with the weight of his own longing.

Tears welled up in their eyes, and they fought to keep their composure.

"I thought time would make it easier," they confessed, a raw vulnerability laid bare beneath the dim glow of the streetlamp.

Suguru offered them a weary smile, a flicker of shared pain passing between them.

"Time has a way of revealing wounds we thought were healed," he said, the truth echoing through the hallowed space between them.

The night embraced them, a silent witness to the intricate dance of emotions beneath the flickering street lamp. Time seemed to stand still, allowing the echoes of a love both tender and tormented to reverberate through the quiet air, wrapping around them like a shroud of nostalgia.

"I miss you," they whispered, the words hanging in the cool night air, laden with the weight of untold stories and the lingering ache of unresolved emotions.

Suguru, with a melancholic smile that held the depth of a thousand shared sunsets, replied, "I know."

His words, a testament to the silent understanding that had weathered the storms of time, painted a canvas of their shared history.

A brief yet profound moment passed between them, a communion of souls familiar with the artistry of sorrow. They exchanged sad smiles, acknowledging the pain that dwelled beneath the surface—a tapestry woven with the threads of what was and what could never be again.

"But you'll never leave God, won't you?" they asked, the words hanging in the air like a sacred hymn, a melody of unspoken truths that resonated through the silence.

Suguru, his gaze drifting to the ground like a fallen prayer, nodded with a heaviness that only a man torn between earthly desires and divine duty could understand.

"Yeah," he confessed, his voice a fragile melody that cracked with the weight of the choices he bore.

A bitter laugh escaped them, a bitter acknowledgment of the cosmic joke that played with the strings of their fate. "Damn."

"I'm sorry," Suguru whispered, the words carrying the weight of unspoken regrets, a plea for forgiveness in a universe that seemed indifferent to the intricacies of human hearts.

Suguru listened in the gentle embrace of the night, the words hanging in the air like a delicate confession of the heart. The flickering street lamp cast a soft glow on their faces, revealing the vulnerability etched in the lines of their expressions.

“I’ve never felt so homeless,” they admitted, their voice a poignant melody that resonated with the ache of a displaced soul. A somber laugh escaped them, a fragile release of emotion that danced on the precipice of tears. "To be without the person that made me feel like life can be a home. It’s as if I’ve been taught how to build a home, and then it's just, in ruins.”

Suguru, his eyes reflecting the constellations of shared pain, nodded in solemn understanding. The weight of their words echoed through the silent night, the gravity of loss settling like a heavy fog.

“It's a peculiar kind of emptiness,” he mused, his voice a low murmur, as if joining the nocturnal conversation with the whispers of the wind. "To have known the warmth of a home, only to find it reduced to ruins. The echoes of what was linger in the cracks, haunting the spaces that once held promises."

The person's gaze, a reflection of a universe in turmoil, met Suguru's.

"You were my home," they confessed, the words carrying the weight of unspoken dreams and the fragments of a life that now lay in ruins.

Suguru, his heart heavy with the acknowledgment of what had been lost, replied, "And you were mine." His voice, a gentle breeze that carried the scent of nostalgia, painted the canvas of their shared memories. "You'll always be."

"I know." They replied back, pointing to the middle of their chest. "You'll always find your way into a house here too."

The night wrapped around them, a silent witness to the unraveling of a love that had once been the cornerstone of their existence. The street lamp flickered, casting a dance of shadows on the remnants of their shared dreams, now scattered like stardust in the cosmic expanse.

As they stood beneath the dim glow, Suguru reached out, a silent offering of solace in the face of their shared homelessness. The person, their eyes brimming with unshed tears, accepted the gesture, a fragile connection in the midst of ruins.

"It's okay not to have all the answers," Suguru whispered, his words a gentle reassurance, a beacon of understanding in the night. "Sometimes, the process of rebuilding begins with acknowledging the ruins."

"Did you do the same?"

He laughs somberly.

"I'll still have to learn to. Just like you." He whispers back to them, tilting his head at them. "It's often hard, when you love someone so much. There's too much to want, too much to remember. But also too much to forget."

They pursed their lips at him.

"Do you want to forget me?"

He shakes his head.

"No. Never."

They dug deeper into their pockets.

"You know, the worst thing is, after all this time, I don't think I've stopped loving you," they confessed, the admission tearing at the seams of their heart like a love letter written on the pages of time. "I still love you. Even if I have someone to love now, I still love you."

There was panic in his eyes for a moment. As though those three words being said paralyzed him. As though they compelled him. The mere three words echoing in his ears made him feel as though he would break covenant to god the moment he heard them. He would sin and he would sin knowing his heart would not be guided by reason. Love after all, does not have reason. Love is just love.

Suguru, looking at them with eyes that mirrored the reflection of constellations, pleaded, "No, no, don't."

"Let's just leave that out there just for a second on its own," they said, a brief huff following as they gathered the shattered remnants of their composure. "It needs to be said, one last time."

Suguru, resigned to the bitter reality that hung between them like a faded photograph, nodded with a quiet acceptance. He offered a smile, fragile as porcelain. "Alright."

"I love you," they declared, the words a sacred offering hung in the air, a requiem for a love that refused to be extinguished, a melody that echoed through the chambers of their shared history.

Suguru, offering a tender smile, whispered, "It'll pass."

"I know," they replied, their voice carrying the wisdom of a soul that had danced with the fleeting nature of love, accepting the transient beauty of their shared pain.

As if prompted by an unseen force, they both turned, their hearts guiding them toward separate destinies. They who is still tethered to the past, lingered in the shadows of what could have been, as if waiting for a final resolution that might never come. Suguru, facing the far reach of the church's dome like a silent sentinel, took a moment to compose himself, tears betraying the stoic facade he wore as a priest.

"I love you too," Suguru confessed, the words a whispered goodbye, a final benediction offered to a love that had been both a sanctuary and a storm.

And then, with a heavy silence enveloping them like a shroud, they finally parted ways. Each step echoed the closing of a chapter, a poignant farewell etched into the fabric of their souls—a bittersweet symphony played beneath the dim glow of a street lamp, where love and destiny converged and diverged in the grand tapestry of life.

There is still a home, built the soul of those you love.

They walked away, they couldn’t help smiling through the tears.

There’s always going to be that home, made just for each other.

They live on together, small crevices of the soul just for each other.

They'll be fine.

Suguru would be fine.

They'll always build a home.

Together.

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