#“and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant

[ghostpebble]

"#i carry your heart with me by ee cummings"

i got to sing that with my choir and when i say the song does SO right by the poem, the story feels so much like pouring your heart out because you can't keep it all inside

Alright tell me in the tags, what’s Your Poem? That poem you heard once and it has dwelt within you ever since?

[vlindervin7]

i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) - e.e. cummings

[lizzyiii]

Hey girl hey. Hope you are still alive and life is treating you well. Just checking in.

you're so sweet for this omg. so ive graduated from high school, have this whole summer, but I can't really enjoy it since a broke girl's got to work. got my very first job and it's sooo draining, but I've got to get that bag

Sevenmas

pairing | aemond x wife!reader

word count | 9.2k words

summary | amid the haunting ruins of harrenhal, aemond's pregnant wife senses the looming threat of alys rivers, a witch whose presence fuels her nightmares and aemond's growing distance.

determined to protect her husband and unborn child, she delves into the secrets of warding magic, reclaiming her bond with aemond as she invites him back into her bed and vows to stand against the witch’s dark influence.

tags | 18+ (MDNI), smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pregnancy, magic, fluff, soft aemond, hubby aemond

a/n | it's summer, the heat is evident, yet I've only been at work or home. I needdd to leave my house!

likes comments and reblogs are much appreciated ✨

ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

My Dearest Babe,

It has been a full moon since your father and I arrived at these dreary halls of Harrenhal. It is bleak here, cold and damp, and the walls seem to hold the whispers of the dead.

I have not known a single night’s rest since we set foot in this cursed place. My sleep grew all the more restless when your father saw fit to move me into a separate chamber.

Harrenhal weighs heavily upon him. It has changed him in ways I cannot yet understand. He walks the halls as if hunted, and I see the shadows of his unrest in his eyes.

Each night, his dreams twist into dark things—visions that wrench him from sleep, leaving him gasping as though clawing his way back to wakefulness. He grows ever more volatile, as if the very stones of Harrenhal press upon his mind, threatening to drive him to madness.

One night, he woke from a nightmare so violent, I feared for him. I reached out to calm him, but he struck out, not knowing it was I. I do not hold it against him—he was deep within whatever horror plagued him.

But he looked upon the bruise on my wrist with such anguish, fearing for my health and yours. It was then he resolved to put me in another room, to shield us both from his torments.

Yet, my sleep has only worsened since he made this change. This keep holds no comfort, only shadows and sighs, and I feel that something - someone - wicked watches us, waiting.

The sixth day of Sevenmas dawned in Harrenhal, a day to honor the Crone, she who carried the lantern of wisdom and foresight. How you longed for that guidance now, caught in the maze of cold stone walls and shadows that seemed to stretch into eternity.

The ancient keep, with its crumbling towers and halls seeped in ghosts of past horrors, gnawed at your spirit with every passing hour.

The days bled together, each as gray and listless as the last. Time itself felt suspended, and there was little to fill it but your prayers to the Seven and the slow, meticulous pull of thread and needle.

Embroidery was meant to calm the mind, but here it became another way for your thoughts to spiral into dark corners. How could you not let them when the halls echoed with whispers not your own and the air felt thick, laden with something unseen yet suffocating?

Your husband, Aemond, the prince with a fire in his blood and the shadow of the conqueror in his step, had become a stranger cloaked in duty.

Since Rhaenyra had laid siege to King's Landing, his days were consumed with strategy, flame-bright eyes scanning maps and murmuring with commanders until dawn kissed the horizon.

You would catch glimpses of him, his presence fierce and distant, a sword poised to strike. And still, there was one tether left—he would always return to break his fast with you, no matter the hour, as if the morning meal was a sacred pact he refused to break.

This shared ritual was a brief light in the gloom, a moment where his brow would smooth, and he would offer a small nod, as if to say, I am still here.

Yet even then, the weight of Harrenhal seemed to press upon him, creasing the corner of his eye and stealing the little warmth from his voice.

You wished for the strength of the Crone’s wisdom, to find words that could soothe whatever haunted him, whatever pulled him into those long, silent stretches where he barely met your gaze.

And so, with the sun’s first pale rays stretching over the stone battlements, you whispered a prayer to the Crone. Let me see what he cannot. Let me guard us in ways unseen.

There was another shadow cast over your time at Harrenhal, one that gnawed at your peace like a hound at a bone. Within the first week of your arrival, an attempt on Aemond’s life had been made, a sloppy affair that left more questions than answers.

Yet the mere notion of betrayal and blood sharpened Aemond’s already fierce nature into something perilously close to madness.

In his rage and paranoia, he swept through Harrenhal like a storm, burning and executing every male Strong—lords and bastards alike, sparing none.

The aftermath left the keep haunted by its own silence, populated mostly by women and children who dared not cross his path. Yet among the survivors, there was one who set your skin crawling like no other: Alys Rivers, the bastard daughter of Lionel Strong.

Her gaze, dark and knowing, seemed to pierce through you whenever it drifted your way. The keep’s old women, those who lingered in the kitchens and halls, were full of whispers, speaking in hushed tones about Alys and the tales that clung to her like a shroud.

They claimed she was a wet nurse with no babes of her own, that her cradle stayed empty because she offered her children to dark gods, drawing power from their sacrifices.

The word witch passed between toothless mouths with reverence and fear, a name that conjured images of blood and whispered spells in the dead of night.

You would catch Alys watching Aemond from the shadowed corners of the great hall, her green eyes glistening like the polished scales of a serpent.

There was something about the way she looked at him, a gaze that lingered too long, with a subtle curl to her lips that suggested she saw beyond what others did. Each time, a cold knot formed in your stomach, winding tighter with each day.

Aemond, for his part, seemed oblivious—or perhaps unwilling—to acknowledge her attention. He stalked the halls of Harrenhal like a restless dragon, his eyes always aflame with thoughts of war and vengeance.

But you, kept to the fringes and left with little to occupy your time, had learned to listen. You had overheard more than once the old wives’ tales, how the stones of Harrenhal bore witness to strange sights in the dark of night.

The morning light struggled to filter through the narrow, soot-streaked windows of Harrenhal’s great hall, casting long, somber shadows across the cold stone floor.

You sat at the grand table, an expanse of dark oak that seemed almost too vast with just the two of you seated at its head.

The hall’s emptiness swallowed the small noises of clinking silver and the rustle of fabric, leaving only the low crackle of a distant fire to break the silence.

You glanced at Aemond, his face severe and sharp as ever, eyes narrowed and distant as he picked at the bread before him. His hair, pale as moonlight, spilled over his shoulders, catching the dim glow of morning like polished silver.

You traced the line of his jaw with your gaze, noting the tautness there, the slight twitch that spoke of restless thoughts.

In truth, you did not know this man well—your husband, your prince, and yet a stranger in so many ways.

It had only been moons since you first met, and within days, the marriage vows were spoken, the ink on the alliance barely dry before you found yourself bound to him in name and in fate.

Your father’s fleet had been your dowry, a formidable power that the Greens could not afford to spurn. You understood your role, the politics and power that tethered you to Aemond, but understanding him was another matter entirely.

His silences were as deep and dark as the Blackwater, and he carried an anger that smoldered beneath his skin, an unquenchable flame that whispered of vengeance and old wounds.

But despite the cold armor of his demeanor, Aemond had never raised his voice nor his hand to you. He moved with a kind of carefulness in your presence, a restraint that bordered on gentleness.

He treated you with a respect that was rare among men of power, where wives were often little more than pawns on a board.

And though it was likely due to the child you carried beneath your heart, it kindled a small warmth within you to think that he had not left you behind when he marched to Harrenhal.

Instead, he had commanded that you come with him, a choice that puzzled you even as it comforted you.

Harrenhal was a desolate place, steeped in old, cracked stone and a history that groaned beneath every step. You despised it, with its drafty halls and the air that always seemed to taste of ashes.

Yet sitting here, across from Aemond as the thin light etched sharp lines across his face, you felt a reluctant flicker of gratitude.

The silence between you was not companionable, but it was not cruel either. It was a space where the two of you existed, tethered by duty and an unspoken understanding.

Your gaze lifted from your untouched plate to meet his. “You barely ate anything,” you ventured softly, the words almost swallowed by the great hall’s vastness.

Aemond’s eye flickered to you, just a moment of acknowledgment, before drifting back to the distant, unfocused point beyond the hall’s great hearth. “I have much on my mind,” he replied, his voice low and guarded, as always.

You lowered your gaze, the golden glint of your cup catching the flicker of the fire as you turned it in your hands. “Today is the day of the Crone,” you murmured, the soft words drifting into the vast emptiness of the hall.

Aemond’s eye settled on you again, this time with a sharper intensity, as if he were trying to read the thoughts that played behind your eyes. The violet of his gaze, stark and unyielding, seemed to see through flesh and bone.

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks but pushed on, lifting your head with a tentative, almost sheepish smile.

“I have been holding small celebratory suppers in my chambers for each of the Seven,” you said, the words trembling on the cusp of hope. “Perhaps you would join me tonight?”

Aemond’s expression remained inscrutable, carved from the same marble as the gods whose names you spoke. He was silent, his lips pressed into a thin line as he measured the request. You held your breath, bracing for the sting of rejection, but after a moment, he inclined his head with a slow, deliberate nod.

“I shall see if I am free to attend later, wife,” he replied, each syllable precise, as if spoken under a watchful eye.

A smile unfurled across your face, a small, fragile bloom that brightened the somber air. You nodded, your gratitude silent but deeply felt, and returned your attention to the meal before you.

The hall fell back into its familiar hush, but the silence seemed gentler, softened by the promise—no matter how uncertain—that he might sit with you as the evening drew near.

Throughout the day, you moved with a purpose that had been absent for some time. Excitement flickered within you, casting a rare warmth over the bleakness of Harrenhal’s cold stone walls.

You spent more time preparing yourself than you had in weeks, choosing a gown of deep violet, the color rich and regal, one you knew would match Aemond’s eye.

Your hands worked carefully as you braided your hair, fingers weaving strands with practiced precision. You wound the braids into a half-up style, securing them with thin silver pins, and threaded small pearls between the coils, their soft luster catching the waning light that seeped through the chamber’s narrow window slits.

As the sun dipped lower, you prepared the chamber for supper, eager to cast away the dreariness of Harrenhal’s stone embrace. The table, though small, was set with care.

You placed a modest arrangement of primroses at its center, their pale petals lending a touch of softness to the somber room.

Candles, thick and tapered, were placed with a meticulous eye, their wicks waiting to be lit and offer a warm glow that would banish the shadows lurking in the corners.

Tonight was meant to honor the Crone, a day of wisdom and reflection, yet you could not help but hope for something more—a chance to share a moment, however fleeting, with the man you called husband.

The hours had been long since you’d known any touch of intimacy, any whisper of companionship. The prospect of Aemond joining you, even for a brief supper, was enough to make your heart beat with anticipation.

Time stretched on, heavy and unyielding, as you sat alone at the small table in your chambers, a solitary figure in a room filled with muted light. The food before you, once steaming and fragrant, had grown cold, the sheen of oil on the meats congealing in the chill air.

The candles you had lit earlier had burned down to stubs, their light dwindling as shadows crept up the walls.

The fire in the hearth, once crackling with warmth, had reduced itself to a bed of glowing embers, the last vestiges of heat sputtering as they surrendered to the draft that snaked through the stones.

Your heart, which had quickened with hope earlier in the day, now felt leaden with disappointment. The silence pressed in around you, each passing moment a reminder that Aemond would not come. The anticipation that had kept your spirits aloft now left a hollow ache in its absence.

Pushing your untouched plate away, you rose from the table, your movements deliberate as anger stirred in your chest. It was not the hot, reckless kind, but the slow-burning indignation that came when expectation was met with silence.

You wrapped your cloak around your shoulders and slipped into the dim corridor, determined to find him, to seek an answer rather than stew in this quiet, stinging rejection.

Harrenhal’s halls were a maze of stone and shadow, empty and vast, with only the sound of your footsteps echoing softly in the cold. The castle held a thousand whispered secrets, and tonight, it seemed eager to keep its prince among them.

You turned corners and climbed staircases, the flicker of dying torches casting your shadow long against the walls, until the familiar paths grew strange and your resolve wavered.

Finally, as you entered a lesser hall that stretched toward a wing of old chambers, you spotted movement—a maidservant carrying linens, her head bent as if afraid to be seen. Relief mixed with frustration as you quickened your step.

“Excuse me,” you called out, your voice sharper than intended.

The servant started, nearly dropping her burden before bowing her head hastily, eyes fixed to the floor. It was a common sight in Harrenhal, the way they kept their gaze averted in your presence.

Word of your husband’s fierce reputation as Prince Regent and Kinslayer had traveled swiftly, and it seemed they feared that to slight you was to invite his wrath upon them.

With a lifted chin and a tone that brooked no disobedience, you asked, “Where is my husband?”

Before the maid could stammer out an answer, another voice cut through the dim hallway—a voice that chilled the blood in your veins and haunted your sleep with its whispers.

“I fear the prince is still occupied in the council chamber, my lady,” said Alys Rivers, her tone smooth and deceptively courteous, like the edge of a blade.

You turned slowly, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dark, unreadable, but a knowing smirk pulled at her lips as she regarded you, taking in the sight of your tense shoulders, the protective way your hand drifted instinctively to your rounded stomach.

There was no warmth in her expression, only the sly amusement of a cat toying with a bird that dared to stray too far from its nest.

Your nostrils flared, and you straightened your back, eyes narrowing as you corrected her in a low, simmering murmur, “Princess.”

Alys tilted her head, feigning surprise, though her eyes betrayed nothing but a cold mirth. “Pardon me,” she said, her gaze sliding deliberately to your abdomen before flicking back up to meet yours, daring you to react.

“I am not your lady,” you hissed, “I am your princess.”

With a final, steely glare, you turned on your heel, the folds of your violet gown sweeping the floor as you made your way back through the shadowed hallways, heart pounding beneath your ribs.

The silence of Harrenhal enveloped you once more, and you did not pause until you reached the safety of your chambers, locking the door behind you and pressing your back against the cool, unyielding wood.

The echo of Alys’s smirk lingered in your mind, but you would not let her see your fear. Not tonight. Not ever.

A scream ripped from your throat, raw and primal, as the pain surged through you, tearing its way up your spine and scattering your senses. It felt as though your very body was being split apart, the agony sharper and deeper than any blade.

“Keep pushing, my princess; the babe is almost here,” urged the midwife, her voice steady but relentless.

You clenched your jaw, wanting to curse her, to scream at her to hold her tongue, but the pain stole all words from you, leaving you breathless and shaking.

It was a torment that came in relentless waves, each cresting higher than the last, only to drag you under when you thought you could surface for air. The burning, the stretching—unbearable, blinding.

“I cannot,” you sobbed, tears mingling with the sweat that drenched your brow. “Please… I can't,” you pleaded, your voice broken and desperate.

The pain surged again, stealing the air from your lungs, and then you felt it—a firm, familiar hand pressed gently to your cheek. Through the haze of pain, you turned your head, and your vision cleared just enough to see the sharp lines of Aemond’s face.

His single violet eye was intent, fierce, a rare expression of vulnerability breaking through his stoic mask. Relief, so profound it was nearly painful, swelled in your chest.

“Aemond,” you gasped, his name a lifeline, an anchor in the storm.

Husbands were not meant to be present for the birth, tradition forbade it. But he was there, and you did not care for any rule or rite that would keep him away.

“Just a few more pushes, my love,” he murmured, his voice low, a thread of steel woven through the gentleness.

You nodded weakly, mustering what remained of your strength. A deep groan escaped you as you pushed once more, the room spinning around you. The midwife’s voice rose above the roaring in your ears.

“The babe is crowning, my lady.”

But the tone was wrong. Too familiar, too cold. Alarm jolted you to consciousness, and you struggled to prop yourself on trembling elbows. Your eyes darted to the space at the foot of the birthing bed, and dread coiled tight in your gut.

There, in the dim light of the chamber, knelt Alys Rivers. Her dark hair framed eyes as green and sharp as glass, eyes that glimmered with a knowing, malevolent gleam. A smile curled at the corners of her lips as she met your gaze.

“No, no!” you screamed, panic twisting your voice. “Get away from me!”

With a surge of fear-driven strength, you tried to kick her away, your limbs thrashing wildly, but Aemond’s hands clamped down on you, firm and unyielding. “Calm yourself,” he commanded, his voice cool, steady as stone.

Alys turned her gaze up to him, a shadow of mock sympathy curving her lips. “You must choose, my prince,” she intoned, each word dripping with false solemnity. “The babe, or your wife.”

A sob wrenched from your chest as you felt your breath come in sharp, shallow gasps. “No. No!” The pain was drowned beneath the torrent of fear that flooded you.

Desperately, you looked up at Aemond, seeking the warmth, the fierce protection that once resided in his eye. But what you found was a gaze distant and unreadable, as though he stood apart, watching from some cold, unreachable place. His jaw tightened. “Save the babe.”

Time seemed to fracture around you. His words, so final, crashed over you like a wave of ice. Your eyes widened, disbelieving, as rough handmaids or shadows, you could not tell—pressed you back, holding you firm as you struggled.

“Let me go! Let me go!” you screamed, your voice raw with betrayal and terror, limbs straining against the iron grip that pinned you.

Pain cleaved through you, and you felt the weight of the babe shift within. But your focus broke as Alys moved, no longer at the foot of the bed but gliding closer, the flicker of torchlight catching on the edge of a cruel, glinting blade.

The chamber seemed to darken around her, the faint cries of the midwives fading into an ominous silence. And all you could see were those green eyes, bearing down on you like a curse whispered in the dark.

You jolted upright, heart pounding and breath ragged, the remnants of your nightmare clinging to your skin like a shroud. A trembling hand reached up to brush the tears from your cheeks, the dampness proof of the terror that had gripped you in sleep.

Your eyes drifted down, catching the soft curve of your swollen belly under the covers, rising and falling with your shallow breaths. A shaky sigh escaped your lips, a bitter mix of relief and unease.

The babe was still safe within you—at least for now. You pressed your palm over it, as if to reassure yourself of its presence.

Beyond the thin light filtering through the shuttered window, the sky remained cloaked in the indigo of night.

The stillness told you it was not yet dawn, that liminal time when dreams and waking often blurred. But sleep would not find you again; not after that vision, nor for many nights to come, you were sure.

The memory of Aemond's cold, detached gaze as he spoke words that sealed your fate in your dream clung to you. It pierced deeper than any blade, a wound festering with fear and doubt.

Yet you forced yourself to swallow the sharp sting of betrayal, directing your thoughts toward another source of your unease—Alys Rivers.

The whispers, the eyes that followed, the dark air that seemed to shift when she was near. Your fears, your husband’s torment, the sense of something wicked gnawing at Harrenhal’s bones—it all traced back to her.

Resolve steeled your spine. You pushed back the covers and rose, the weight of your pregnancy making the motion slower, more deliberate.

Wrapping yourself in a heavy fur cloak, you reached for the candelabra on the nightstand. Its small flame sputtered in protest before catching steady, casting long shadows that danced upon the walls.

The corridors of Harrenhal, once alive with whispered conversations and the hurried footfalls of servants, now loomed around you in cold, watchful silence. The draft that crept through the ancient stones nipped at your cheeks and sent a shiver down your spine.

Clutching the fur tighter against your body, you moved forward, the warm light in your grasp flickering as it met the draft.

The silence was thick, broken only by the soft rustle of your cloak and the creak of old floorboards beneath your weight.

At last, you reached the great doors of the library, their dark wood carved with sigils long forgotten and gnarled from centuries of use. Setting the candelabra down, you pushed against one of the doors, muscles straining with the effort.

It groaned open, the sound reverberating through the stillness and sending a cold gust rushing past you. Picking up the candelabra, you stepped inside and let the heavy door drift shut behind you with a thud.

The scent of old parchment and dust surrounded you, familiar and oddly comforting. Shelves stretched high, towering sentinels filled with the stories of old and the wisdom of those long gone.

On other nights, you would have lost yourself in the tales that wove through these tomes—myths and sagas that spoke of courage and triumph. But tonight, solace was not what you sought.

You moved through the rows with purpose, eyes scanning the spines until they found those few volumes that hinted at the arcane.

The lore of witches, their dark arts, the means by which they could twist men’s dreams and cloud their minds—it all lay within reach, hidden among dusty pages that no one dared speak of.

You placed the candelabra down, its light casting a golden glow that flickered across the cracked leather and faded titles.

With trembling hands, you opened the first book, its binding stiff with age. The parchment crackled as you turned the pages, your eyes drinking in the inked words.

If there was any way to guard yourself, to protect Aemond from the shadows that had seeped into your lives, you would find it here. No longer would you be haunted by that witch’s knowing gaze or the dread that coiled tight in your belly.

With each turn of the page, the flickering glow of the candelabra cast dancing shapes upon the stone walls, warding off the chill that seeped through Harrenhal’s blackened stones.

The words spoke of charms and tokens, of age-old rituals whispered by the smallfolk who feared the unseen.

Marking doors with protective sigils or crosses to ward off malevolent forces. The purifying strength of salt, said to bar dark spirits and their ilk. Rowan wood, revered for its protective properties, best used when tied with crimson thread to seal its potency.

The hours crept by, measured by the slow guttering of candle wax. You read, forgetting the passage of time as the nightmare’s claws loosened their grip on your heart.

Knowledge was your weapon now, and you wielded it with the silent promise that neither you nor Aemond would fall victim to powers unknown.

The day’s first light spilled through the high, narrow windows, a pale and hesitant glow that bled into the room and painted the bookshelves in muted gold.

It was the day of the Stranger, seldom celebrated, yet you paid it no heed. Lost in the pages, you missed the bells that tolled the hour and forgot the warmth of your usual morning meal shared with Aemond.

When at last you closed the final volume, a resolve settled in your chest, resolute and unyielding. You would need these items—symbols of protection—and that meant venturing beyond the castle’s shadowed halls and out into the market.

The fur-lined cloak wrapped snug around you, guarding against the bitter drafts that swept through the corridors as you made your way back to your chambers.

As you reached the windows, a rare sight unfolded before your eyes—snow, soft and unrelenting, blanketing the bleak spires of Harrenhal.

Snow was a rarity in King’s Landing, seldom seen during your girlhood there. For a moment, untouched by fear or doubt, you felt the stir of childish wonder rise within you.

Three knights of the Kingsguard, their white cloaks pristine even in the snow, flanked you as you ventured to the market. The square bustled despite the cold, vendors calling out their wares with voices hoarse from the chill. Your list of protective items, hastily scrawled in the early hours, guided your every step.

Surprisingly, the rowan wood was easy to find, its branches bundled tightly with red thread as per custom.

Charms of polished crystal and talismans wrought from iron and bronze were procured with little effort, their sellers eager to part with them for a handful of silver stags.

The murmured blessings from the old crones at their stalls made the hair on the back of your neck prickle, but you pressed on, their eyes shadowed with both reverence and suspicion.

By the time the sun began its descent, casting a gilded glow over the snow-draped stones of Harrenhal, your arms were laden with your newfound protections. You returned to your chambers with purpose, setting to work immediately.

With meticulous care, you bound the red thread around the twigs of rowan wood and placed them above each entrance.

Salt, precious and fine, was spread across the thresholds, each grain catching the firelight like scattered stars.

With charcoal from your writing desk, you etched intricate symbols—wards against dark magics—onto the cold, unyielding stone walls.

But it was not just your own safety you sought to secure. For Aemond, you had combed the market for a piece both practical and protective. After much haggling, you procured a leather eyepatch, supple and black, unmarred by wear.

Returning to your chamber, you carefully stitched shards of black tourmaline into its edge, each piece glinting with a subtle, protective gleam. Your needlework was steady, each pull of the thread imbued with silent prayers.

Lost in your task, you barely noted the soft knock at your door or the maidservant who entered, setting a tray of supper on the table near the hearth.

The aroma of roasted fowl and warm bread wafted through the chamber, but your focus remained fixed.

As you worked by the fire's glow, the shadows that had haunted your waking hours seemed to lessen, replaced by the steady rhythm of thread and needle, and the quiet resolve that this time, you would be ready.

You were so absorbed in your needlework, fingers deftly stitching the dark crystals onto a supple leather patch, that the sudden clearing of a throat startled you. Your gaze snapped up, eyes wide with surprise as they met the cool, familiar face of Aemond Targaryen.

“Husband,” you said, breathless as you hastily hid the finished eye patch beneath a velvet pillow. Rising to your feet, you inclined your head, though your heart thudded with residual tension.

He stood tall and imposing in the dim glow, the silver-white of his hair catching the light like a crown. For a moment, the room felt smaller, as if the walls themselves pressed in with the weight of his presence.

“What brings you here?” you asked, voice touched with confusion and a hint of sharpness. Exhaustion dulled your sense of propriety, leaving the question more pointed than intended.

Aemond’s lone violet eye narrowed, an unreadable glimmer within its depths. “To have supper with you,” he replied, as if such a thing were the most natural answer in the realm.

Your eyes flickered to the table, where two silver plates now sat, the steam rising lazily from the dishes set by the silent servant moments before.

You pressed your lips into a thin line and sighed, murmuring, “I believe my invitation was for yesterday.”

A shadow of regret crossed his face, so brief that another might have missed it, but you saw. As you moved past him to take your seat, you caught the soft murmur that slipped from his lips, “I deserved that.”

Aemond followed and took his place across from you, the creak of the chair echoing in the quiet chamber. For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the faint crackle of the hearthfire. His gaze settled on you, sharp and searching.

“I have not seen you at all today,” he said at last, the words carrying a hint of something that might have been longing, tempered by pride.

Your eyes dropped to your hands, fingers fiddling absently with the edge of your gown. Remorse pricked at your heart—you had broken your shared morning ritual, the one part of the day reserved just for the two of you.

“I was very busy,” you replied softly, the excuse feeling thin on your tongue.

Aemond’s expression remained unreadable as he tilted his head slightly. “I heard. Visits to the market square,” he said.

You hesitated, holding back the details of the charms, the salt, the ancient warding sigils you had traced with trembling hands. He would only deem you foolish or worse, mad.

“I needed fresh air.”

His eye narrowed, a flicker of displeasure passing over his sharp features. “It is too dangerous for one in your condition to wander beyond these walls,” he said, the admonishment clear, though his tone held an undercurrent of concern.

You lifted your chin, meeting his gaze with defiance. “That is why I took three of your White Cloaks,” you retorted, the fire in your voice matching the spark in his eye.

For a heartbeat, the tension crackled between you, the weight of unsaid words pressing down like a heavy cloak. Then, Aemond’s lips quirked, almost imperceptibly, as if some silent battle had been waged and resolved within him.

“Good,” he said at last, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “You are no fool, wife.”

The tautness in the room eased, and though unspoken, an accord was reached.

Aemond leaned forward, and placed a carved wooden box on the table between you. “I’ve brought you something,” he said, his voice a measured calm, yet there was an undercurrent of something softer. “An apology for last night.”

Your brows knit together, skepticism clear in your eyes. “My forgiveness cannot be bought with trinkets, husband,” you said, your tone edged with defiance. Yet even as you spoke, curiosity stirred within you.

One of his silver brows arched at your remark, and a small smile ghosted his lips. “Let us see if it is worthy,” you murmured, reluctant to give ground but unable to hide the intrigue that tugged at you.

With a careful hand, Aemond lifted the lid of the box, revealing a necklace of silver and sapphire. The deep blue stone glimmered like the sea under moonlight, capturing the room’s faint candle glow.

Your breath stilled for a moment, eyes tracing the intricate work of the silver links, each carved to mimic dragon scales.

Your fingertips brushed over the gem, the cool surface grounding you as warmth bloomed in your chest. Unbidden, a soft smile tugged at your lips, an expression so rare that even you felt its presence.

“Thank you, husband,” you whispered, your voice softened by genuine gratitude.

Aemond’s face shifted, pride flickering across his sharp features. There was something triumphant in his half-smirk that you could not allow him to savor unchallenged. You rose from your seat, skirts rustling as you moved.

“I, too, have a gift for you,” you said, your tone now light with a note of playfulness.

“Oh?” he replied, one silver eyebrow lifting in surprise, though the glint in his lone violet eye revealed his interest.

“Mm,” you hummed, stepping to the chaise where a small cushion lay. Your fingers slipped beneath it, retrieving the item hidden there. Turning back to him, a touch of shyness colored your expression, a rare sight that softened the lines of your face.

With both hands, you presented him with an eye patch, the black leather supple and embroidered with fine strands of broken tourmaline crystals, catching the dim light with a subtle shimmer.

Aemond took it, surprise giving way to careful scrutiny. His fingers traced the delicate work, the weight of the crystals and their arrangement thoughtful.

“Black tourmaline,” you said quietly, watching his gaze flick between you and the patch. “It is said to have powerful protective qualities.”

You hesitated, unwilling to speak of how it was also believed to ward against dark energies and unseen dangers—of how it might shield him from threats both known and hidden.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken words. Aemond’s mouth quirked into a faint smile, rare and genuine. “Thank you, wife. 'Tis a very thoughtful gift,” he said, voice low and sincere.

A moment passed, and you froze in silent shock as Aemond reached up to remove the eye patch he wore. Of course, you had seen what lay beneath—the striking sapphire set into the hollow of his missing eye—but Aemond was never keen on showing it.

In King’s Landing, he would only take it off moments before sleep and replace it the moment he awoke.

Before he could put on the new eye patch, you placed a hand over his arm. “You know you don’t have to wear it around me, yes? I have no issue with it, and you should not either.”

Aemond stared at you for a long moment, his nostrils flaring slightly. For a heartbeat, you feared you had overstepped, but then he nodded, leaving both eye patches on the table.

A small, victorious smile touched your lips as you felt the weight of this unspoken understanding between you. “Allow me to have the maids bring us some dessert,” you said, the tension lifting.

Aemond nodded, his gaze lingering on you as you turned to the doors.

Stepping into the corridor, you quickly found a maid and requested something sweet to be brought to your chambers. When you returned, your heart faltered at the sight before you. Aemond stood at your desk, his tall frame hunched slightly as he leaned over an open book—your journal.

Panic surged within you, and you strode forward, slamming the book shut with a sharp motion. “What are you doing?” you demanded, your voice sharper than intended, eyes wide with both shock and alarm.

Aemond straightened, holding the closed journal in his hand. His expression was unreadable, though his eye bore into you with quiet intensity. “What is this?” he asked evenly, tilting the book slightly for emphasis.

“My private journal,” you answered quickly, reaching for it, but he lifted it just out of your grasp, his superior height giving him the advantage. “Give it back, husband. It is mine.”

Aemond’s voice was steady but carried an undertone of something raw, almost fragile. “Then why,” he began, his eye fixed on you, ignoring your protests, “do you write to our babe?” There was an ache in his tone, a depth of emotion he hadn’t yet voiced.

The question caught you unprepared, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your fingers tightened around the fabric of your skirts, and your shoulders sagged as you avoided his penetrating gaze. “In case,” you whispered, the words trembling as they left your lips.

“In case of what?” he pressed, his voice low and edged with a demand for understanding.

His gaze bore into you, unrelenting, as though he could uncover your secrets by sheer will. Unable to face him, you closed your eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “In case I’m not there,” you admitted at last, the words barely audible, like a confession carried on the wind.

Aemond’s brows drew together, confusion shadowing his features. “What do you mean if you’re not—” He stopped mid-sentence, his breath catching as realization dawned. The tension in his posture shifted, his shoulders falling ever so slightly. “…There.”

His sharp features softened, a rare vulnerability settling over his face. “Women do survive the childbed,” he murmured, his voice gentler now, as though he feared the weight of his words might shatter you.

“Not every time,” you countered, your tone edged with resignation. “And there’s also… that choice.” Your voice broke on the last word, and you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire. Then, with a tenderness that made your heart ache, Aemond reached out and cupped your cheek.

His touch was warm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin as he tilted your face toward him, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“There can be more babes,” he said softly, his words a promise etched with fierce determination, “but there is only one you.”

His eye, a storm of violet and sapphire, held yours with such intensity that you felt as though he was laying his very soul bare. A tear escaped and traced down your cheek, but Aemond caught it with his thumb, his touch steady, grounding you in the moment.

“I would not choose otherwise,” he said firmly, the weight of his vow lingering in the air between you. “Not for all the heirs in the realm.”

Your lips trembled as you whispered, “You swear?”

“I swear it,” he replied, his voice low and resolute. “I will not lose my wife.”

The ache in your chest eased slightly, the warmth of his words wrapping around you like a shield. You placed your hand over his, pressing it gently against your cheek.

With a soft breath, you tilted your head upward, letting your lips meet his in a gentle caress. The kiss was tender at first, a quiet exchange of affection that carried the weight of your unspoken fears and his unyielding promise.

Aemond responded eagerly, his lips pressing more firmly against yours as his hand slid from your cheek to cradle the nape of your neck.

His other hand found your waist, gripping you firmly as he pulled you closer, as if the mere thought of distance was unbearable. His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entrance, and you granted it willingly.

As his tongue met yours, the kiss deepened, a slow, fervent dance that sent warmth coursing through your veins. A soft moan escaped your lips, and you felt his grip on your waist tighten in response, his fingers digging into the fabric of your gown.

Your hands moved up his chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle beneath his tunic, before curling into the fabric as if to anchor yourself.

The world around you faded, leaving only the press of his body against yours, the taste of him on your lips, and the heat that built between you like the fire crackling in the hearth.

When the kiss broke, it was with a reluctance that lingered in the air between you. Your breaths came in shallow pants as you gazed up at him through hooded lashes, the corners of your lips curving into a teasing smile.

“My love,” you purred, your voice sultry and laced with affection, “you’ve left me wanting… again.”

Aemond’s gaze darkened, the stormy hue of his violet eye smoldering with barely restrained desire. “Have I now?” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Then it seems I must remedy that, wife.”

You guided his hands lower, to the swell of your belly, then further down to the hem of your nightgown. “Will you show me how much you desire me?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper. “Make me forget everything but the feel of you inside me...”

A low growl rumbled in Aemond's throat as his hands moved beneath your gown, fingers tracing the curves of your swollen belly before dipping lower to find the damp heat of your core.

“You have no idea how often I dreamt of this,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Of burying myself deep within you, feeling your walls clench around me...”

With a swift motion, he lifted the hem of your nightgown and pulled it over your head, throwing it aside, revealing your naked form.

His gaze devoured every inch of you, from the full breasts that rose and fell with each ragged breath, to the soft, rounded hips and the glistening folds of your sex.

“Tell me what you want, my queen,” he commanded, his voice husky with desire.

A shiver ran through you at Aemond's bold appraisal, your nipples hardening into tight peaks as his hungry gaze seared your skin. You reached for the fastenings of his breeches, your fingers fumbling with urgency to free his straining erection.

“I want you,” you murmured, your voice low, thick with a desire that lingered like a soft melody in the air. Your eyes never left his, the depth of your longing laid bare in the way your breath hitched.

Aemond’s violet gaze darkened, the flicker of a smirk ghosting his lips. His head tilted ever so slightly, a predator’s grace, as though savoring your words before acting upon them.

You took a step back, your movements slow and deliberate, your footsteps light against the floor as you inched toward the bed. The flicker of the firelight cast a warm glow across the room, the shadows dancing across the carved posts of the bed.

As you reached its edge, you let yourself fall gracefully onto the soft mattress, your body sinking into the luxurious furs and silks. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you gazed at him through lowered lashes, a sly smile curving your lips.

“You beckon me so boldly,” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet drawl, the faintest edge of amusement laced within it. “Have a care, wife, for I am not a man to resist such temptation.”

Aemond watched, transfixed, as you sank onto the bed, the mattress creaking under your weight. His cock throbbed in time with his racing heart, the tip already glistening with precum.

He shed his clothes the rest of the way, letting them fall carelessly to the floor as he stalked towards you, muscles rippling with each step. By the time he reached the bed, he was fully erect, his shaft jutting proudly from a nest of silver curls.

Lying beside you, he reached out to cup your breast, thumbing the sensitive peak before leaning in to capture your mouth in another searing kiss.

His free hand trailed over your round stomach, pausing to tease the edge of your slit before delving deeper, fingers probing your slick folds.

“You're so wet for me already.”

You gasped into the kiss as Aemond's fingers found your entrance, your hips bucking instinctively to meet his touch. “Please,” you whimpered, breaking away from his mouth to gaze up at him with pleading eyes. “I need you inside me. Fill me up, make me yours again.”

As if sensing your desperation, Aemond positioned himself between your thighs, the broad head of his cock nudging insistently at your opening. With a deep groan, he thrust forward, sheathing himself to the hilt in one powerful stroke.

You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure-pain crashed over you. It took a moment for your body to adjust, to relax and welcome the thick length filling you so completely.

Aemond's breath hitched as he bottomed out inside you, your velvety walls gripping him like a vice. For a moment, he simply savored the exquisite sensation, reveling in the tight heat enveloping his throbbing cock.

Then, with a slow, deliberate withdrawal, he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, setting a relentless pace.

The bed frame creaked ominously beneath the force of his thrusts, but Aemond paid it no mind, lost in the primal rhythm of rutting his mate.

“Yes, just like that,” he growled, his hips snapping forward with increasing urgency. “Take my cock, my queen.”

You wrapped your legs around Aemond's waist, heels digging into his firm behind as he pounded into you with wild abandon.

Each brutal thrust sent shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins, your inner walls fluttering wildly around his pistoning shaft.

“Aemond!” You wailed, your nails raking down his back as you met his ferocious pace.

The obscene slap of flesh against flesh filled the room, punctuated by my wanton cries and Aemond's guttural grunts. You could feel the pressure building within you, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap.

Suddenly, you were hurtling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. You screamed his name as your cunt clenched rhythmically around him, milking his cock for all it was worth.

Aemond's eye rolled back in his head as your velvet sheath spasmed around him, your climax triggering his own. With a hoarse groan, he buried himself to the hilt and came undone, his seed erupting in thick, pulsing jets.

He continued to thrust through the aftershocks, prolonging your shared bliss until he was spent, collapsing beside you with a grunt. For a long moment, the two of you lay entwined, chests heaving as you struggled to catch your breath.

The chamber was awash with the warmth of the firelight and the quiet hum of your contentment. As you lay entwined, your bodies barely a breath apart, your gaze lingered on Aemond’s face.

His sharp features, so often hardened by duty and war, were softened now, his violet eye fixed on you with a tenderness rarely seen.

Your noses brushed lightly, a quiet intimacy, as his hand rested possessively over your waist while yours splayed across his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart.

Almost as if drawn by a spell, he leaned forward, pressing a feather-light kiss to your lips, a gesture so gentle it felt like a whispered promise. When he pulled away, he settled back onto the pillow beside you, his arm still wrapped protectively around you.

You shifted, nestling closer, your head finding solace in the crook of his neck. Your hand lay over his heart, its steady rise and fall a soothing cadence that began to lull you into slumber.

His breathing slowed, each exhale a soft brush against your hair, and soon, the quiet comfort of his presence drew you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

But the peace did not last.

You jolted awake, startled by the sudden thrashing of Aemond’s body beside you. His face, so serene moments ago, was now contorted in anguish, his brow slick with sweat.

His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, and his hands clenched the sheets as if warding off some unseen terror.

Your heart clenched at the sight. He had spoken little of his nightmares, but you knew they haunted him—a torment born of battles fought, losses endured, and burdens carried.

Pushing yourself up, you moved with as much haste as your swollen belly would allow, the weight of your pregnancy slowing you only slightly.

Grabbing the robe draped over the chair, you wrapped it around yourself, its soft fabric barely warding off the chill of the room as you padded toward the small table where you had placed your new goods.

Your hands rummaged through the items with purpose, your fingers finally curling around a small vial. You held it up, peering at its contents even in the dim light. The faint, familiar scent already began to calm your racing heart.

Lavender oil.

You returned to the bed, the vial clutched firmly in your grasp. As you sat beside him, Aemond's thrashing began to subside, though his breaths were still ragged, and his jaw clenched tightly.

Carefully, you uncorked the vial, the soothing aroma of lavender wafting into the room. You poured a small amount onto your hands, warming the oil between your palms before leaning over him.

With gentle, deliberate movements, you began to anoint his temples, your touch light yet firm as you traced small, calming circles.

The oil left a faint sheen on his skin, its scent filling the space between you. "Aemond," you whispered softly, your voice low and steady, a tether pulling him back from the depths of his nightmare.

His breathing began to slow, the tension in his body easing under your ministrations. You moved to his wrists, massaging the oil into his pulse points, your hands steady despite the ache blooming in your lower back.

“You are safe,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his ear. “I am here.”

You whispered a silent prayer under your breath, invoking the gods for protection and peace. Your gaze stayed fixed on him, your heart clenching as you watched his features begin to soften, the tension melting away.

You held your breath, waiting. When his form finally stilled, his breathing evening out, you let out a soft sigh of relief. The lavender and your quiet vigil had worked.

Exhaustion weighed heavily upon you, and you slid back into bed beside him, pulling the covers over the both of you. But just as you were about to lay your head against Aemond’s chest, you froze.

A chill ran down your spine, and the hairs on your arms stood on end as an inexplicable sensation swept over you.

You were being watched.

Your eyes darted to the chamber doors, which you now noticed were slightly ajar. Beyond them, barely visible in the darkness, you caught the faint glimmer of glowing green eyes.

Your heart raced, a primal fear coursing through you. The air seemed to thicken, heavy with an unseen presence.

But you steadied yourself, your breathing slowing as you reminded yourself of the protections you had set in place earlier that day.

You had taken every precaution, warding the chamber with runes and incantations, ensuring that no ill intent could cross its threshold. Alys Rivers might wield her strange gifts, but she would not claim Aemond—not without a fight.

With a courage you hadn’t known you possessed, you tightened your arms around Aemond’s sleeping form, drawing strength from the warmth of his body against yours. Lifting your chin, you stared directly into the glowing eyes, refusing to show weakness.

“I won’t let you have him,” you whispered fiercely, your voice a low, steady vow. “Not without a fight, witch.”

For a moment, the air seemed to hold its breath. The green eyes lingered for a moment longer, unblinking and cold, before retreating into the darkness.

Only when the oppressive feeling lifted did you allow yourself to exhale. A trembling sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your head, nestling into Aemond’s chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear, became a soothing rhythm, lulling you out of your fear.

As the night enveloped you once more, you clung to him, your resolve unshaken. Whatever forces sought to disturb your peace, you would face them.

For Aemond, for your babe, for the family you were building together—you would fight.

Hope You Enjoyed!

[flemingology]

“i might hate you, but i couldn’t bare the thought of you spending christmas alone” for leah williamson

christmas confessions ─ leah williamson x reader

part of my christmas series. full masterlist here!

in which: your christmas plans are interrupted by the british weather conditions, leading to some unexpected confessions from your arsenal vice-captain

warnings: none

wc: 3.7k

A snowstorm. Of all things that could go wrong, a snowstorm was the one that seemed to put a hold on your Christmas plans.

Recently having transferred from Lyon to Arsenal, you'd gotten your head down and focussed on your football. Normally, you'd go home every couple weeks just to be back with your family, but with your recent move you wanted to make sure you secured your spot in the starting eleven. You worked relentlessly hard for weeks on end, not allowing yourself a break, and you were proud of yourself. Really, really proud. Your football journey hadn't been the nicest one yet – your academy years littered with injuries and setbacks, you were over the moon to have finally settled in Arsenal's starting eleven. But you were starting to feel the effects of your hard work, and you started feeling like you needed some time away. To be with your friends and family back home.

Finally, though, the winter break arrived. You had wrapped up the final training session of the calendar year a couple days ago, and you were now set to go home. A couple days, just the last week of the year, before you'd go back to England. A short flight, setting to depart at 3pm, arriving at a little before 5. Your parents would pick you up from the airport and you'd go for dinner, have a drink, before all going back to your childhood home and just enjoying each other's company. But that was without taking England's horrendous winter weather into accord.

It had been horrible the whole week. Freezing cold, snow and rain all throughout the week – it had already caused you a bunch of trouble in trying to get to the grounds in time, but you completely forgot that air traffic could also be affected by the weather. So here you were, in Heathrow, staring at the departure screen as flight after flight got cancelled. Not delayed, not moved, cancelled.

Left stranded, you called the first person you always went to when struggling, needing to rant about the situation.

—

Alessia was spending her Wednesday afternoon the same way she had done for the past 2 years since making her move to Arsenal; getting coffee and a pastry with Leah. The two blondes had grown closer since Alessia made the move to London, their friendship no longer held back by the distance between Manchester and the British capital.

It was nice, their little routine. Football training that day or not, they'd find themselves in a different coffee shop every week to try out their blends, or in Leah's case, their hot chocolate or tea. They would talk about anything and everything, catching each other up on whatever hadn't been said yet at the Arsenal training grounds.

The pair were happily chatting away over a coffee and a mint tea as Alessia's ringtone went off. The striker checked the caller ID and excused herself to Leah, answering the call. She knew you were meant to be on your flight right now, so for you to be calling there must be something wrong. "Y/n? Aren't you supposed to be-"

"Less, my flight got cancelled! The weather has gotten too bad in the past couple hours and everything's been cancelled. I've asked whether it can be rescheduled, but there's nothing free anymore this week. The next available flight was January 2nd, which is a joke! I don't know what I'm supposed to do right now, my family have been preparing for me to come over for the past couple days and I don't want to disappoint them. I just, I don't know-"

"Hey, hey, y/n, take a breath, it's okay." Alessia tried to calm you down, sensing your nerves through the phone. She shot Leah a look, who was sporting a confused frown. "The situation is out of your hands, love. You can't do anything about it. I know it sucks." Alessia heard you sigh on the other end of the call, probably feeling quite defeated over the whole situation. "I know you've been looking forward to seeing your family. As soon as everything's cleared again, we'll get you on the first plane to Germany. I promise you that. Football be damned."

You chuckled on the other end of the call, and Alessia was glad you managed to muster up a small smile. "Yeah, I guess. Thanks, Less." "Don't mention it. I'm here for you, you know that. Do you need me to come pick you up from the airport?" Alessia knew you packed quite heavily and it was going to be a chore to get all of your stuff into a taxi. "No, that's fine. I think I'm gonna sit down and have a coffee here, calm down a bit, and then call a cab. I'll be fine."

Alessia reluctantly agreed, only after having you promise that you'd call her if you needed her help, or if anything went wrong. She finished up the phone call a couple moments later and put her phone back into her pocket with a deep sigh. "She's gutted."

Leah cocked her eyebrows and let the silence linger a little longer, taking a sip from her hot chocolate. "You don't have to pretend with me, you know?" Alessia added. Confusion shot across the defender's face at her words. "What do you mean by that?" The younger girl chuckled and shook her head slightly. "Leah, I know why you're distant with her. But you don't have to be that way when she's not around, god she's at Heathrow Airport of all places. You can let your guard down."

Leah took a deep breath and set her cup down, visibly struggling with how to proceed with the conversation. "I don't know, Less. I just feel like if I don't talk about it, it'll go away. I know I'm being unreasonable, but I'm just protecting myself. I don't want to go through all that hassle again. Last time I dated someone in the work field, it didn't work out. I don't wanna put myself through that again."

"Who's talking about dating, Leah? I know you like her. I'm not saying you have to voice that, but you could at least be civil with the girl. She's overthinking it like mad. She asks me all the time whether she did something wrong. And she's nervous about it, seen as you're the vice-captain at Arsenal too. She thinks you don't like her and is scared she's gonna lose her spot on the team because of that. All I'm asking of you is a little human decency, to treat her like you treat other people."

Leah looked down and started fidgeting with the rings around her fingers. "Yeah, I don't know, maybe." Alessia put her hand on Leah's causing the defender to look up. "It's okay. Just don't be a dick, okay? It's not because you don't have one that you have to be one."

—

When you arrived home a couple hours later that day, suitcases still packed in the corner of the living room, sprawled out over your couch, her caller ID was the last one you'd expected to pop up on your screen.

Leah Williamson.

You sighed deeply and rubbed your hands down your face, not feeling like dealing with whatever your Arsenal teammate wanted to scold you about now. She was probably rewatching a game and felt the need to lecture you about all the things you did wrong, and you weren't in the mood for that. You were her defensive partner after all, and you knew damn well she had high standards, not only for herself but also for others, but it was the winter break after all. Tactics be damned.

You let the call run out, breathing a sigh of relief and settled back into the couch, impatiently waiting for sleep to take over to rid you of your foul mood. Not on Leah's watch, though. No more than a couple seconds had passed before you ringtone sounded through the living room again. Wanting to get it over with so you could get some rest, you decided to pick up.

"What's the deal, Williamson? I'd like to enjoy my break, if I'm allowed? You can lecture me all you want when we're back at the club." You knew you were being curt, maybe slightly unreasonable, but your heightened emotions combined with how the defender had treated you ever since you joined Arsenal made you snap.

"Hey, hey, chill, I'm not calling to lecture you, y/n. God, do you think I'm some fucking loser who does nothing but think about football on their break?"

You didn't like the way this conversation was going, despite only having spoken a couple sentences to one another. You sat up and rubbed a hand down the side of your neck, closing your eyes as you slowly inhaled and exhaled – trying to calm yourself.

"Sorry. My mistake. Why are you calling?"

You heard shuffling on the other end of the phone, the rustling of what sounded like a jacket and shoes being taken off. Of course. Coffee with Less. She probably overheard your conversation with her earlier.

"I was just with Less," she started. Bingo. "and I heard about your cancelled flight. I'm sorry, I know you were looking forward to seeing your family."

You weren't quite used to this sentiment coming from Leah, the England captain having barely said a civil word to you ever since you joined her childhood club. It's not like you didn't speak, it's just that she made it seem like a chore every time she had to string a conversation together with you on the receiving end. Short, blunt, curt, sometimes outright disrespectful. You'd learned to accept that not everybody was always going to like you, but the least you'd expect from people was some basic human decency – something you thought Leah lacked sometimes.

You audibly sighed. "Yeah, it's crap. But I'll be fine. Now that you got that over with, what's the real reason?"

You heard a quiet snicker coming from the other end of the call, struggling to see what was so funny about your conversation. "There's no... other reason, y/n. I just wanted to call and check in. You know, defensive partner and all, just calling to make sure you're not drowning in self-pity."

You could hear the smile that tugged at her lips as she spoke out those final couple words. "Well, thanks, I guess? Thanks for checking in. Have a good rest of your night, Leah." You lowered the phone and were about to end the call, wanting nothing more than to fall back in the cosy bundle of pillows and blankets you'd set up for yourself.

"Oi, wait! I wasn't done!" You grumbled something incoherently under your breath before bringing the phone back to your ear. "I'm listening."

"This is gonna sound really weird, I know, but just let me speak. I was wondering if, if maybe you, you know-" A couple moments of silence followed and you were about to speak up, but Leah interrupted those plans. "If, you know, if you were free to come spend Christmas Eve with me?"

You frowned, taking a moment to gather your thoughts. Leah Williamson, Arsenal teammate, who to your best knowledge absolutely despised you, is inviting you for Christmas Eve? A joke.

"Uhm, I guess, well-" You didn't get much further than that before the blonde's voice interrupted you. "Look, I know how it sounds. You're probably thinking I'm just doing this out of pity and sympathy, you know captain things and all that, but that's not it. I don't have plans, yours have been cancelled, let's spend it together."

If you weren't so caught up in your own thoughts, you would've noticed the slight waver in Leah's voice. She was beyond nervous on the other side of the phone. You'd never said this much to each other in such a short space of time, let alone the contents of what was being discussed. You'd never willingly been in the same room. If not for bonding nights, you'd probably never see Leah outside of the Arsenal training grounds.

You didn't get it, though. You'd spent countless nights wracking your brain as to why Leah would treat you like she did. But you blanked every single time. It gnawed on you. You wanted her to respect you, to acknowledge you, to treat you like she treated others. But she made that seem like the worst thing in the world. Unimaginable, even.

"So?" Leah's voice broke up your train of thoughts and you scrambled together a response without really thinking about what you were saying. "Uhm, sure. I guess. Yeah. Just text me the logistics and I'll be there." You didn't really feel like going, but you also didn't want to give Leah more reason to not speak to you. And in all honesty, you wanted the conversation to be over so you could finally get some sleep.

"Oh! Okay! Yeah, okay, that's great. Thanks. Okay. I'll text you. You text me too, okay? I'll see you then."

Your own goodbyes got interrupted by the tone of the call ending, a confused frown etched on your face at how nervous Leah had suddenly seemed. Not wanting to give it much more thought, you turned off your phone's ringer and threw it on the coffee table, finally drowning yourself in a very well-deserved sleep.

—

Tuesday night, December 24th. 5:23pm. Approximately one hour left until you had to be at Leah's. Of all people, Leah's. When you caught Alessia up about the plans the two of you had made, she reacted slightly suspicious. So much so that you thought she had a hand in it, but she quickly reassured you that was not at all the case. Still, she didn't seem surprised. If anything, she thought it was good. An opportunity for the two of you to just start all over again.

You couldn't lie, that sounded good to you too. You wanted to be friends with Leah, but you also wouldn't just forget how she treated you during your first couple months at Arsenal. That's not something you could forgive and forget through a pity invitation to spend Christmas Eve together.

Yet, you found yourself struggling to find something to wear. You wanted to dress nice, but not too nice, because you're just two friends spending the holidays together. Not lovers, not dating, god, probably not even friends. Teammates? Acquaintances, maybe. At best.

You finally settled on a light green dress. It complimented your body just right, accentuating your curves in all the right places but not too tight. You put on some light make-up and finished off your outfit with some accessories. You checked your appearance about twelve times in your full-body mirror in the living room, 'just to be sure', before eventually grabbing your car keys off the kitchen counter and exiting your apartment block. You debated walking to Leah's, it was a 10-minute walk tops, but that felt like putting too much trust in your pencil heels.

3 quick knocks on the door and a couple seconds later, you were met with a version of your defensive counterpart you'd never seen before. She was dressed in a pair of black slack pants, paired with a white button-up shirt. She had left the top two buttons open, offering a perfect view of the delicate golden necklace gracing her tanned skin. Definitely self-tanner, though, because God forbid the United Kingdom gets a sliver of sun anywhere past September – but you spare her the red cheeks by not pointing it out. Her hair was loose, falling graciously on her shoulders, a welcome change from the bun or ponytail she always had it in during training or games.

"Hey," you muttered, once you realized neither of you had said a word since Leah opened her front door. Unbeknownst to you, while you were eyeing her up, Leah also let her eyes glide over your figure, taking in your appearance. She thought you looked good. Really good. Too good for her own good. That good that she'd probably struggle to not mention it every 5 minutes, when conversation obviously dies down for the 30th time that evening. Because what does she talk about for hours with someone she always pretended to dislike?

Turns out, there's a lot to talk about. Uncomfortable silences? You two don't know those. And while it's been good, it's been comfortable and easy, you still felt quite apprehensive about the whole ordeal. And you could tell by Leah's body language that she was feeling similar to you. Conversation had been flowing easily, but it felt like you were just scratching the surface. Like there was something underneath that needed to be addressed, but neither of you felt like digging deep enough to be able to bring it up. If anything, you thought, that's Leah's job. After all, she was the one to invite you to spend Christmas Eve together after she spent months making you feel like she despised you.

And that's what she did. Eventually. After lots of coaxing and promises that you wouldn't be mad and you understood – you were quite mad and you definitely didn't understand – Leah finally mustered up the courage to talk to you about the past months.

She opened up about everything. How she'd been excited when she learned about your move to the club, at first. But when you came to visit the training grounds on your first day, that sentiment completely changed. Leah had always found you quite attractive, but that wasn't something that had to be dealt with seen as you were across the North Sea and not someone she had to deal with in her day-to-day life. So, even though nothing had been explored between the two of you, not even a single conversation strung together, she already started closing herself off.

She told you about how she kicked herself for it day after day, that she realized damn well how bad she was treating you. She knew that you didn't know where it came from, and that hurt her even more. She didn't want to hurt you, didn't want to treat you any less good than she did with the rest of her teammates, but she just couldn't let her guard down around you. Not with the way you looked, the way you carried yourself on and off the pitch, the way you worked so tirelessly to be the best version of yourself day after day after day. She admired you, really. But she didn't allow herself to feel that. To acknowledge that. To acknowledge you.

"I know it sounds stupid. Trust me, I know. You don't know how many nights I've laid awake just thinking about how poorly I was treating you. But I just couldn't bring myself to not do it. Because that would mean I'd eventually snap and just... tell you everything I've just told you."

You slowly nodded, not trusting your voice just yet after having just been quiet for what has been the best part of 20 minutes. You let her come to you, let her talk until she felt like she said it all, because you knew if you interrupted her she'd maybe forget things.

"And, for the record, I don't want anything in return from you. God, no, I just thought you deserved to know. And no, I didn't invite you out of pity tonight. I just saw an opportunity open up when I learned about your cancelled flight and I knew I had to take it. I couldn't let it go any longer and I needed to tell you. So hence, the invitation. I just hope I didn't ruin the rest of our night now, by confessing all of this."

You chuckled, slightly shaking your head before repositioning yourself a little on Leah's couch. You ran a hand through your hair and breathed out a shaky exhale, locking eyes with Leah as you looked back up at her.

"You're ridiculous, Leah. Honestly, I get it, I think, but treating me like that for this reason, is ridiculous. And I know you know it, but that doesn't mean that I can't tell you too, because-" Leah tried to interrupt you, probably to apologize again, but you held up your hand to signal that you weren't done speaking yet.

"Because, you made me feel like shit, Le. You made me feel like I wasn't worthy of that starting spot at Arsenal, despite knowing damn well that I was doing good in our backline. You made me feel like I didn't belong in the squad, like I did something wrong, like I did something to upset you. It was so conflicting, and it stressed me out. Real bad. It's not a nice feeling when your vice-captain doesn't like you. Or, rather, when you feel like your vice-captain doesn't like you. I know now that that wasn't the case, but that doesn't fix your case."

Leah looked down, fidgeting with her ring-clad fingers. You continued. "Look, Leah, it sucked. But now at least I know what was behind it. And I don't wanna keep being mad at you. Because truthfully, I want to be closer to you, closer with you. I wanna be treated like you treat other people, okay? We can explore whatever needs to be explored later, but first I just want us to be civil with each other."

The blonde defender looked up at you, hastily nodding when she realized you were waiting for some kind of response. "Yeah, yeah, god, yeah, that would be nice." She slightly stumbled over her words, trying to form coherent thoughts in a mind that was running at a 100 miles an hour. You scooted a little closer to her, closing a bit of the space that was between the both of you on the couch and slowly moved your hand closer to hers, that was laying dormant in her lap.

You searched her eyes for any uncertainty, concern, and then softly laid your hand on top of hers, giving it a slight squeeze. "Thank you for opening up," you said softly. "It means a lot to me. I know how you are with feelings." Leah twisted her hand and intertwined your fingers. "Thank you for listening. And thank you for giving me another chance. I promise I'll be better. Better for you."

"I know you will."

[cazshmere]

Astrology Observations Pt.7

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!! 🧚‍♀️🩷💐

🧚‍♀️ Every Aries/Scorpio placement I've known has weak eyesight and most definitely wears glasses 😂

🧚‍♀️ Speaking of Martian (aries and scorpio) placements, it’s so hard to NOT notice these people. They always grab people’s attention whenever they go lmao. The attention could be either good or bad but whatever it is people will always turn their heads whenever these baddies walk in!!

🧚‍♀️ Mercury at 11 or 23 degrees (Aquarius degrees) are often such unique and witty people. The type of people who wear two different colored socks lmao or just do stuff out of the norm😭, they are also very good at comebacks and have such a refreshing sene of humour

🧚‍♀️ Venus in the 3rd house in synastry could indicate going on short drives together, especially on a bike🤭

🧚‍♀️ Something I’ve noticed about venus square ascendant or venus square venus synastry is that it could potentially be one sided. Yes, there could be physical attraction BUT mutual love is usually not there. They are better off as friends tbh!

🧚‍♀️ Uranus in the 12th housers usually have no problem staying up late, either they’re texting people or playing games or watching videos. Either way they always end up sleeping super late or just have a very erratic and messy sleep schedule

🧚‍♀️ People talk about how Scorpios are so jealous and possessive about the people they like but have you seen a VIRGO? They’re the real winners for being super jealous and possessive . It could be over their friends, someone they’re dating or just people they’re really fond of!

🧚‍♀️ Pisces/Neptune in the 2nd or 3rd house can really benefit from listening to subliminals!

🧚‍♀️ 29° is not only a fame placement but also causes a lot of anxiety because it represents endings or transitions. The 29th degree is known as the "anaretic degree," a term derived from the Greek word "anareta," meaning "destroyer" or "bringer of endings." This degree marks the final and most intense degree of a sign, signifying the culmination of the sign’s energy. It leads to both high potential for significant events, such as fame, and heightened anxiety. The pressure to fulfill the sign's lessons before transitioning to the next creates a sense of urgency, sensitivity, and sometimes instability, contributing to stress and anxiety.

🧚‍♀️ I’ve noticed that this generation's pisces mars placements (especially men) are extremely defensive and aggressive for no reason. It makes sense because their Mars squares Pluto (Sagittarius)

🧚‍♀️ I had a question for y'all - Do you guys sometimes resonate WAY more with the planet person's description than the house person's? To some extent, everyone can resonate with both descriptions, but from what I’ve encountered, I sometimes don’t resonate AT ALL with the house person’s description despite being the house person. I experienced Venus in the 12th house synastry, and I was the house person, but let me tell you, I seemed a lot more invested in the person than they were with me 😭💀 and I resonated so DEEPLY with the planet person’s description. This has happened to me with 8th house moon synastry too, so I don’t know if this experience only occurs when there is water house synastry involved , but do let me know your experience!

pic and banner credits @/kthemes

© cazshmere 2024 [All Rights Reserved]

[princeofyorkshire]

i don’t remember a lot of episodes from wizards of waverly place but the one i never forgot is when harper and alex’s dad talk about being the third wheel. i wonder why 🤗

[captainamericasmotercycle]

Hellooo! I love love love your writing, you're so incredibly talented!! I just got my period and I'm in so much pain (sorry if it's tmi), but all I have on my mind is Cregan Stark (i'm obsessed) -- so I just got this idea: what if the reader is supposed to do some of her duties in Winterfell, but she just got her period? And besides the pain she's feeling, she's also disappointed she isn't pregnant yet. She doesn't want to tell Cregan how much pain she's in, knowing he's so strong and thinking he would judge her and lose respect for her, so she tries to go on with her duties, but he notices something is wrong. After he talks to her about it, and figures out what's wrong, what if he cancels all the plans of the day just to lay with her and comfort her? And she's shocked he would do something like that for her.

I'm sorry if this made you uncomfortable, and if you don't want to write it, I understand! Thank you so much!!

love love love this... as a girl with painful periods, i just need to be held. i hope i delivered well! wc: 1.2k

warnings: crying, mentions of childbearing, mentions of throwing up and bleeding, cregan is a big softie and loves his wife, cregan stark fucks (implied)

You woke up feeling the cold, empty space next to you. You blinked slowly, trying to adjust to the light. Feeling a sharp pain in your stomach, your hand shot up to it. You swung yourself out of bed quickly, running to the nearest bucket.

Your handmaiden entered just in time to see you throw up. Rushing to your side, she helped you clean up. As she helped to change your clothes, you noticed a red splotch in your small clothes.

A tear ran down your face. You had started bleeding, which meant you weren’t pregnant. For nearly a moon now, you and Cregan tried your hardest to have children, but you can see your efforts had been wasted.

“Are you alright, my lady?”

You were collapsed on the floor, you turned your head to your handmaiden, tears in your eyes, “Tell me, speak freely please… what do you think Cregan will say when he finds out I cannot make an heir for him?”

Your handmaiden was only slightly older than you, but you could tell she was full of knowledge. She was a full northerner, seeing many winters and understanding the life there. She helped to guide you through the customs of the North and had taken up a maternal role in your life.

She came down to your level, sitting down next to you, placing a hand on your back, “You are still young, Lady Stark. You have much time still. Pregnancy does not always come easy. I do not think Lord Stark will see you any differently, he married you for love, not childbearing. He will not see you as any less because you did not become with child very quickly.”

“But what if he decides that there is another lady, a northern lady, more equipped to carry his children? What if he wishes to bed another?”

“Lord Stark is the most loyal man out there. He would not break your oath of marriage because you are not pregnant yet,” she wiped your tears from your face, “You are too in your own head, my lady.”

You nodded, smiling softly, “I suppose you are right, but please do not tell him about my bleeding. I do not want him to know.”

“I think it would be best to tell him—”

“No,” you stood, wiping the dust off your gown, “And that is a command.”

Your lady stood, nodding at your request, “Whatever pleases you, Lady Stark.”

Taking a breath you walked to the doors, “I will continue with my duties today, and you will not speak of what happened this morn.”

“Of course, Lady Stark.”

Every moon you bled, there was lots of pain to follow, mostly in your stomach and sometimes in your lower back. Recently, the pain has gotten worse, almost debilitatingly so. It was not smart of you to take on more than you needed to.

You made your way around Winterfell, trying to fulfil your duties to the best of your abilities. In the kitchens, you oversaw the food preparation. During this, it was the first time the employees of your castle noticed the change in your behavior.

You walked around the kitchen when a sudden sharp pain hit your stomach. You grabbed onto the counter with one hand, and grabbed at your stomach with the other. Your face contorted in pain and a quiet hiss came out of your mouth.

Many rushed to your side, “My lady, are you alright?”

You pushed each one away, feeling the pain subside. Sucking in a sharp breath, you stood straight again, “I am fine.”

Leaving the kitchens quickly you decided to oversee the training yards, hoping not to run into your husband quite yet. You made your way to the ground level, watching a couple small children practice fighting with wooden swords.

You watched them, the slightest hint of pain ghosted along your features. You didn’t notice your husband watching your figure from behind you. He startled you, coming up to hug your waist, inadvertently causing pain to your stomach.

Wincing slightly, he buried his face into the crook of your neck, kissing you gently. You tried your hardest to hide your pain, but Cregan always knows when there is something wrong, to your dismay.

“Is there something amiss, wife?”

You removed his hands from you, turning to face him, and kissing him gently.

“Why would there be? I am here with you.”

He looked at you skeptically, but returned your kiss.

You could not let him find out about your pain, he is the strongest man you know. You feared he might think less of you if he knew of your menial pain, you are sure he has endured much worse beyond the wall or during the wintertimes.

Your husband holds great respect for the strongest of his men, so if he found out about your inability to go on with your daily chores during the time of your bleeding, he might not think you worthy of his love or respect.

“I must go, I have things to tend to around the castle.”

“You cannot take a moment away from your duties to spend with your husband?”

“Cregan, really, I should go.”

He has never seen you so hasty to leave his side. He watched as you nearly ran from him. Instead of staying put he followed behind you, ending the chase at your shared bed chambers.

He entered, nodding at the guards posted outside.

“Why do you run from me?”

You turned, wiping the tears that fell from your face, “Cregan? What are you doing here? I’m sure you have many more important matters—”

“I do not. Tell me what is the matter, my girl.”

“There is nothing,” you stepped away from him and towards your bed, holding your stomach in pain.

He noticed your actions and came to sit on the bed, “Have you started bleeding today?”

You looked away from him, embarrassed. He took you hand, “Do not shy away from me, there is nothing to be embarassed of.”

You turned to meet his eyes, “But it means I am not with child! I cannot bear an heir and I am weak with my pains. I am not deserving to even be near you.”

He looked at you with a largly concered expression, his brows were furrowed so hard they almost touched. He pulled you onto his lap, “Not deserving? If anything, it is I who is not deserving of you. I have seen many men in my times and yet none of them are as strong as you. You are bleeding from the inside and you still are trying to force yourself to do dull tasks.”

He wipes your tears, “Do not fret about carrying our child, we have only been trying for a bit of time now.”

“But I do not want to disappoint you.”

“Nothing could ever make me disappointed in you, my girl. I promise.”

You sniffled, leaning into him, “You should get back to the training yard, I’m sure your men need you more than I.”

“No. We are going to stay here today, I will tell the guards at the door to inform the rest of the castle.”

“Cregan! You cannot!”

“I can do whatever I wish, I am the Warden of the North and the Lord of Winterfell,” he smiled at you lovingly, kissing the tip of your nose.

After discarding his duties for the day, he came and layed with you in bed, snuggling up close. After your week of hells was over, it was safe to say that you did not have to worry about bleeding again for the next nine moons.

————

taglist: @wolvestitches

[caturnmoon]

The sun 🌞 through the houses!

• Part 1 •

• Sun in the 1st house •

The sun naturally finds its joy here in the house of Aries! The first house rules individuality and how you personally come off to others in this world and self. So with the sun in the 1st house you are someone that naturally has this radiance about them and is not, and I repeat, is not afraid to take up space! It’s giving main character energy for sure. You could have been an only child where the world literally revolved around you (like the sun) or you’re the favorite. The sun in the 1st house creates a natural born leader and others are easily inspired by you and look up to you. For better or worse, you influence the climate of any room and relationship. If not kept in check, this placement can point to some narcissistic qualities. At its best this placement inspires others to embrace their own light and fearlessly takes action in whatever it is they aim to achieve in life. They are blessed with a strong inner compass and drive to set out to achieve whatever it is that they want to. This could also indicate a natural talent and or interest in self-help and awareness platforms; you know who you are inside and out and like to help others discover this for themselves. What you see is what you definitely get with this placement. Especially if placed in signs like Leo, Aries, and Sagittarius.

• Sun in the 2nd house •

With the sun in the house of values both material and personal, you are someone who can naturally exude the qualities of a Taurus. Strong, authoritative, and sensual. Physical security means the world to you in this lifetime, and you have all of the tools in your arsenal to achieve just that. You could have an uncanny knack for investments and finances in general. You are meant to step into this role of security both material and emotionally. This placement to me just gets better with time and ages like fine wine if positively aspected especially. You will most likely be someone who aims for financial solidarity and independence and could be the breadwinner of your family and you take great pride in this too. Those with this placement are most likely to be very generous with their resources as well, giving to others that need their resources and help especially if positively aspected by planets like Jupiter, the moon or Venus. You have an eye for beauty and beautiful things and like to invest in art and the best luxury this world has to offer you. Style comes naturally to you and you could also find yourself interested in interior design or fashion if placed in signs like Taurus, Libra or even Pisces. People look up to you and respect you quite easily with this placement and you’ll naturally navigate positions of authority with ease and steadfastness.

• Sun in the 3rd house •

Mentally active and always on the move. This definitely marks someone with the sun in the house of Gemini! You will most likely be known as a jack of all trades and someone who is difficult to pin point doing just one career during their lives. Highly intelligent and with the propensity to mental restlessness, you need constant mental stimulation for that big bright brain of yours! You also thrive in areas of communication as well, as Gemini rules this. Blogging, networking, and writing may be some natural callings for you. You could travel quite a bit in your professional career especially shorter distance trips, and you also could’ve had a very active childhood too. Perhaps your parents sent you on many different summer camps or boarding schools growing up. Unless negatively aspected, you could have a very close bond with your siblings as well. You could also be someone who naturally enjoys learning and school and are insatiably curious, soaking up information like a sponge. Unless placed in more introverted signs, this placement normally highlights a very social extroverted person. Look to your Mercury in your chart as well with this placement, because the themes of that planet could be a larger portion/theme of your identity!

• Sun in the 4th house •

With the sun being in the house of the opposite luminary the moon, this could indicate a night time birth! You are naturally someone who is in tune with their inner world and incredibly private one at that. Emotional security is everything to you, as well as a safe space you can call home. Your childhood home environment (unless negatively aspected) could have been one full of love and cozy vibes. A safe haven you treasured coming home to after a long day of school and your mom has a lovely dinner awaiting you. Both parents had a huge impact on you but especially your mother or maternal figure. Maybe you were raised by your mother and she was a single parent. Matters of family and the domestic environment will be a big focus for you in this lifetime. You are most likely a homebody who enjoys being at home as much as possible. Perhaps working from home is a huge goal for you! This is also a placement that can show an interest in social work careers as well especially having to do with the domestic sphere. This placement also could show major inheritance as well, it makes me think of it being a trust fund baby placement if the rest of the chart supports this as well. Overall, you are highly motivated by personal, domestic and familial concerns. Look to your moon sign and where it’s placed in your chart as well, as it can highlight more concerning its influence in these matters!

• Sun in the 5th house •

All the world’s a stage!!! With the sun in the house of pleasure, hobbies, drama, children, and affairs this very much rings true for you. The 5th is a Leo house, and invoking your inner child is of the biggest importance for you and your outward expression in this lifetime! You could be known for how you shine in creative endeavors and bringing joy to literally any atmosphere. You feel the most fulfilled when authentically creating and expressing yourself; whether that be through painting, songwriting, acting, sports, or even raising children. You have a healthy sense of self and your ego is strong in its expression. The 5th house literally speaks to me as the house of joy and pleasure and so you find yourself always looking to experience these things in life. Just be careful to keep this in healthy balance with discipline as well, for it could indicate some hedonistic qualities too. A healthy aspect with Saturn could be a great balance with this placement to buffer this. This could also indicate a love for love and affairs could be a potential struggle here as well. Regardless of this, those with their sun in the 5th house have a huge heart and are in tune with their heart chakra naturally. You could also be known for your many talents as you’re someone who is blessed by the solar luminary and puts the spotlight on these qualities for you with ease. The sun is at home in this house of the lion. You’re the supreme ruler of your identity.

• Sun in the 6th house •

The sun in the house of Virgo is such a gentle and diligent placement. The sun infuses its warmth and energy into the house of service, health and routines and as such, you could be a natural healer! The sun here shines the spotlight on your daily routines, matters physical well-being, and services. Virgo is the natural healer of the zodiac and this could be an area of focus for you in this lifetime and what you’ll naturally evolve into being in one of these areas. Perhaps medicine is an area of interest or physical therapy and you love working with wellness routines. This placement also indicates someone who has a green thumb and has a natural knack for gardening! Small animals could bring you so much joy and healing as well, and you could love working with them as well. Such as a veterinarian, or volunteer in a shelter. Animals could love you and are naturally drawn to you. The sun highlights the best qualities (and lighter ones) of the 6th house. Like the 3rd house, this house is also ruled by Mercury. Mercury tends to fare really well in the solar luminary. You have a natural knack for details and are wonderful with matters that require meticulous study. The tiny details that others overlook you naturally comprehend with ease. You are also someone of a resilient nature as you have the ability to work through the petty issues and obstacles life may throw at you. Viewing them as another problem to be solved, you’re able to view things through a logical rational lens.

•Houses 7-12 coming soon•

Until next time! 👽🖖🏼

[lewsnumerounofan]

dirty pt2 (theodore nott x reader)

summary: theo wants u back. that’s it.

notes: theo pov-ish, boy is grovelling, unedited, angst, mentions of smut

+ really wanna do a filthy smut oneshot of them as like a pt3 kinda what u think

+ part one

Theo couldn’t find you anywhere. It was like you’d disappeared off the face of the fucking planet and left him alone, sulking through the cold castle hallways.

Ever since the party—the party where he’d left you like the idiot he was—you’d been a ghost. Even after rumour spread that you’d broke up with your golden boy boyfriend, you’d stayed away.

In your place, all Theo had done was miss you. It was stupid. He was stupid—a right git Mattheo has said—for what he’d done. What he’d been doing, really. Months of hook ups had given him plenty of time to talk to you about his feelings, about the two of you. Instead he’d squandered all his chances on you, on feeling you, on the pretty sounds you made under him. It had been hard to resist.

Except now it meant that he’d let all his longing and jealousy boil over into one cruel, ill-timed statement.

Isn’t that what you have your boyfriend for, ama?

Yeah, brilliant move Theo.

He exhaled harshly, watching his breath on the cold winters air. Tugging his coat tighter he took another drag of his cigarette, idly thumbing over the lighter in his other hand.

Where could you be? You only shared one class, and lately you’d taken to skipping it. He’d checked the library, the courtyard, and just about every other fucking room in the school. Bloody nothing.

And then, as if carried to him on the lightly falling snow, and idea. A memory, really.

It’d been a few months ago, after a particularly tricky exam. He’d seen you leave class crying and hadn’t been able to stop himself from following.

To ease his own conscious he’d promised himself it was just so he could ask you for the notes on a previous days lecture (notes he had, as always, already stole from the Ravenclaw he sat behind). Not because his chest tugged at the sight of your teary eyes, and certainly not because he had been feeling the ever growing urge to lay into whoever—or whatever—had your pretty eyes all glassy.

So he’d trailed you through the castle, winding up and up and up until you’d emerged onto a secluded balcony. Shrouded with shrubs and small, intricate statues, the small patio looked over much of the castle and grounds; to the west the river rolled heavy and full.

You hadn’t even looked surprised to see him. Just let your arms fall across his shoulders as you’d hugged him tight.

He hadn’t gotten the notes that day. He’d just held you up there on the terrace until the sun went down, all the while carting his fingers through your hair and muttering that you’d be just fine.

The boy stamped out his cig, doing his best to shake off the memory. No use dwelling on it if you never even spoke to him again.

He cut curtly across the grounds, quickly winding his way through the stairwells and hallways. Paying no mind to Draco and Blaise who tried to wave him down by the great hall, Theo did his best to clamp down on the worry hounding him.

What if you weren’t there? Worse: what if you were? What if you wouldn’t talk to him, or if you did only to tell him that it’d all been a mistake? That leaving you there had been the final straw and you never wanted to see him again.

The boys face grew graver with each thought. His clear eyes clouded with anxiety and his brows tightened. Students in younger years hurried to clear a path as he strode through them. No one much wanted to be on the receiving end of Nott’s hexes.

Finally he arrived at the correct landing. This area of the castle was largely deserted. And besides, most people were already prepping for bed on their dorms.

But you’d had trouble sleeping since September. And it was a crescent moon tonight, your favourite. So you’d be here, despite the snow.

Theo wanted to laugh at himself for all theses stupid, mundane things he’d gathered about you. Every time he’d laid next to you after you’d fucked, every bit of tucked away conversation. He’d remembered.

Hidden in the shadows, he shook himself.

Get over yourself, Nott. Get over yourself, and get her back.

He gave himself no time to think before stepping onto the snowy balcony.

At first he didn’t see you, tucked up behind the thick white hedges. But against the heavy stone railing you perched, slender hands holding an unlit cigarette of your own.

You didn’t look surprised to see him. In fact, when your eyes met you seemed almost… expectant.

Theo settled beside you. His heart was running embarrassingly quickly at your snowy lashes, at your eyes—shining in the moonlight.

“Theo.”

It was even more embarrassing the effect your saying his name wreaked. Without fail it had his breath hitching. When he had you spread under him, when you sobbed his name and gripped his curls when he ate you out-

Theo tried hard not to let his cheeks go red.

You were staring out towards the moon reflecting off the water through the clouds.

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t let his hand shake as he lit your cigarette either. When you finally locked eyes with him he said, “I wanted to apologize.”

He could tell the words gave you pause. Theodore Nott was most definitely not the type to apologize. Sulky, prideful and sarcastic, the boy typically wouldn’t be caught dead saying such things to anyone.

But you weren’t anyone, certainly not to Theo.

“I- I don’t know what I was thinking. Honestly. It was stupid to leave you at the party. All of it was stupid, how I treated you was wrong,” he said.

You’d never heard him speak so many words at once. And you’d never seen him look… nervous? The Theo before you was someone entirely new. His hands ran through his hair anxiously, and he bit at his lip harshly to keep any more rambling from spilling forth.

Keep it together, Theodore.

“What we were doing was wrong-“

“You mean the cheating? Or the whole bloody relationship, Nott?”

He wanted to curse himself. Perhaps if he’d spent a bit longer thinking about something intelligent to say and a little less about your eyes and your fucking smile he wouldn’t have to be facing your harsh scowl now.

Nothing was coming out how he needed it to, and Theo was painfully aware of your mounting temper. But he couldn’t blow this. Not if it meant what he feared; no more hallway glances, no more intimate touches, no more you.

“It wasn’t a relationship-“

“Brilliant Theodore, thanks for rubbing that it.”

“And that was the problem,” he said.

Frustration brought the two of you closer, until you stood, jabbing a finger into his chest. You had to crane your neck back to meet his gaze, dark and heavy in the moonlight.

“What?” you asked.

You mapped his sigh in the frosty air as Theo exhaled heavily. Steeling himself.

“It wasn’t a relationship. That was the problem. I treated you like a hook up for months and it wasn’t right.”

“But that’s what it was, Theodore. I had a boyfriend-“

He was shaking his head, taking your cold hands in his.

“Doesn’t matter. Doesn’t matter. I had so much time to change that. To fight for you and what I knew I wanted. I was just too jealous and scared to do it.”

Your eyes were wide at his confession. Jealous, sure. But scared? Before you could question him Theo continued, words coming fast and desperate.

“I was terrified that if I did something—if I changed our relationship at all—I’d lose whatever part of you I got. Even if that was broom closet hookups and nothing more… I wouldn’t—I couldn’t lose that. And it took me until now to realize that you deserve better than that. You deserve everything.”

He took a deep breath, chest moving heavily.

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t let you go without telling you that.”

Baby blue eyes on yours. Around you the snow fell in heavier swaths, blanketing Theo’s shoulders with the palest white. He looked like your own personal prince in shining armour.

“And can you give me that?” you asked, soft as the falling snow.

Words seemed to fail the boy in front of you.

“Everything?” you prompted.

“If… if you’d let me,” he said. Voice low but steady. Gaze on you, even while his hands shook.

You almost wanted to laugh at the whole beautiful scene. At the snow and the moonlight. At the grumpy boy who’d found you and talked to you in ways no one ever had before. At the absurdity of it all. At how his thumb traced over your knuckles like he was checking you were real.

“If I say yes, it means we fuck in real beds from now on. Okay?”

In disbelief Theo laughed. He pulled you closer. He let his forehead fall to yours. He thought, how did I get so fucking lucky.

“If you say yes we can fuck wherever you want.”

You wrapped your cold hands up in his curls. Kissed one rosy cheek, then the other. His birthmark.

“I have a condition too,” he murmured.

Barely pulling away enough to hum you let him take your face in his big hands.

“Don’t ever fucking call me Theodore again.”

You laughed as he kissed you, snowflakes melting on your lips.

-

taglist from pt1

@b00kdiary @peony-haze @hisparentsgallerryy @unclecrunkle @devotedlycrookeddonut

[imastrangeone98]

Homecoming

(A/N: boothill my cyborg my love my life my everything-)

WARNING: fem!reader, SMUT SMUT FRESH OFF THE PLATE MINORS GTFO ILL WHOOP YO BUTTS, probably ooc!boothill but whatever it's fine lmao, his exact birth name isn't known so I didn't put a name for him- if there is one I'll replace it; but I found some X art that called his baby girl "cherry" and I really liked it so I'll use that, and way too much plot as always

"Well, hello there! What'cha lookin' at, sweetie?" You bend down to the little girl's eye level, peeking at where the child's gaze is locked on, then smiling in understanding. "You like those ones? They're moon lilies; they're flowers that are really special!"

"Pe... shal?" the little girl babbles, and you laugh.

"Yes, dear. Special." You pluck one of the flowers, beautiful with light blue petals and golden pollen, and offer it to her. "They mean loyalty, and undying devotion, because they only grow in places they like, and they won't grow anywhere else."

"Loya..." the girl mumbles. You chuckle and pick her up, carefully tucking the flower behind her ear.

"Now, where's your mama? Or your papa? I'm sure they're worried sick about-"

"Cherry! Sweet pea, where ya at?!"

Your ears prick, and the girl giggles and claps at the sound. "Well, I guess we found him."

You maneuver through the crowd until you find the source of the call: a man, tall and lean, with flowing black-and-white hair and piercing gray eyes.

Oh. He's beautiful.

The little girl squeals with delight at the sight of her father, and his head whips towards your direction. He sprints over to you and takes the child in his arms, pressing her close to his chest.

"There ya are, ya little rascal! What'd I tell ya about runnin' off?! Ya had me worried sick!" He kisses her forehead, then looks at you. "Thanks, I would've lost her without ya."

"Of course!" You wave it off, hoping he doesn't notice your hot cheeks. "I will say, she has good taste in flowers! If you'd ever like to buy a bouquet, you should bring her along!"

"Flowers? Oh..." He looks at his daughter, finally noticing the moon lily tucked in her hair. His cheeks flush a bright red. "Aw, man, I'm sorry for the trouble, I can pay for it-"

"Oh, don't worry about it, it's on the house! But I do hope this won't be the last time I see her!" You wave at her, and she giggles.

The man laughs at that. "I'm sure she wouldn't mind." He then stretches out his hand to you. "I'm [???]."

"(Y/N)."

He repeats your name slowly, thoughtfully, then smirks. "Guess I'll be seeing you around, lady."

"I'll be looking forward to it, cowboy."

Your eyes crack open.

Instead of a bustling marketplace, you're in a small shack in the middle of nowhere.

Just a memory.

You rise, body aching with fatigue and heartache, but you force yourself to push it to the side.

There's work to be done. You grab your phone and send a message.

ML: The USB is ready. I'll leave it at the usual place.

BH: ca nt maek it cme her

You stare at the coordinates your contact sent you with a groan.

You don't do face-to-face, too much risk. And the information you collected is time-sensitive; you're not sure if you'll be able to make it to the abandoned planet of Mavorosa in time for it to still be valuable, and your spaceship isn't one meant for such great lengths.

But this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity: Oswaldo Schneider is likely to make an appearance at the upcoming IPC Centennial Gala, and BH has proven themself capable of terminating that sick bastard.

You know you're not strong enough to do it yourself, but BH is. And anyone capable of taking down the son of a bitch who destroyed your home, your planet, your lover, is worthy of your trust.

So you bite your lip and bear it. You'll work something out.

ML: ok. I'll be there tomorrow @ 18:00, don't be late.

BH: k

You roll your eyes. Never mind.

With a heavy sigh, you carefully take out the picture/ only one you have of him. With your little girl in one arm and the other wrapped around your waist, he stares back at you with a grin. Bright, beautiful, alive.

"Don't worry, darling," you whisper, tracing the lines of his cheek and hair on the photograph. "We're one step closer to our goal. That bastard's a dead man walking now that we got BH on the case. They're good; strong and capable, I know they'll get the job done for us."

You gently press your lips over his image. And for a brief moment, you let yourself pretend that the paper is a good replacement for his callous skin.

"Once everything's done, I'll go over and join you and our girl. We'll be together again, I'm sure."

He smiles eternally at you, and you find yourself smiling back.

"Wish me luck, darling. Help me be strong."

[...]

His little girl adores you.

Each time he comes by the market, the first thing she whines for is to see the flowers. And you always indulge her, lifting her in your arms so you can show her all the pretty little blooms you have in your small cart. You give names to each one, tell her what they mean as though she understands you.

And you laugh. And he finds himself thinking that his little girl is a good judge of character, because he's starting to adore you too.

And it's becoming obvious, since Nick and Gray give him the occasional nab and jab, wondering out loud when they're going to see him get married and give them another grandchild. His siblings too, always cackling and yapping about how he might be the first to hang up his boots and settle down.

He rolls his eyes, but he's not too displeased by the idea. You're soft and sweet, with a kick of spice to match- the thought of settling down with you and Cherry on the farm is surprisingly sweet.

So he leaves Cherry to her loving grandparents and invites you out on a moonlit stroll through the hillside meadow, the one with the perfect view of the blooming moon lilies and the spring lake that reflects the starry night sky.

"I've never been here before," you gasp in awe, eyes aglow as you absorb the scenery. "It's beautiful."

"Yeah," he murmurs, gaze fixated on you and the moonlight in your eyes. "You are."

You turn your head, and your eyes meet. "Huh? Did you say something?"

"N- nothin'!" He faces the lake, and hopes you don't notice his red cheeks. "Said nothin'."

You laugh, and god, he melts at the sound. Then you rub the back of your head, and turn away, blushing. "I... I think you're very beautiful too."

His brain short-circuits. "Pretty... you think I'm..." Then he gasps dramatically. "So you did hear that! You sneaky mouse!"

He playfully tackles you, and you both laugh and chortle as you wrestle one another to the ground. But then he opens his eyes and finds himself on top of you, hands intertwined, faces so close he can feel your breath, smell your moon lily scent.

The moonlight bathes you in silver, and god, he wants to kiss you. He wants to kiss you senseless, run his callous hands on your soft skin, wrap your plush thighs around his hips and-

"Can I...?" he whispers, weak and wanting. "Just... just a taste, I swear..."

You stare up at him, eyes so big and wide that he swears the moon itself disappeared to light up your gaze, that he doesn't notice you untangling your hands from his until you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Just a taste, cowboy?" you tease. "You don't wanna try... anything else?"

You raise your hips and grind on his pelvis, and he moans and kisses you, hard.

Eager hands dart across skin, tearing off clothes. He runs his hands over your plush tummy, hooks your thighs around his hips and moans when he finally enters you.

He'll never forget this moment. Even if he were to die and be reborn, he'll never forget you. Your pleasured moans as he slides himself inside your tight heat, your teary smile as you open your arms to let him press his chest against yours, your starry eyes so full of love and desire that mirror his own.

You make love for hours, the stars and moon lilies your only witnesses.

"-hill. Boothill."

His eyes crack open.

Instead of a blooming moon lily meadow, he's in the underground repair shop.

Just a memory.

He rises with a groan, mechanical joints creaking from the lack of use. "Done already? I was havin' quite the nice dream."

The mechanic rolls her eyes. "Yeah, I can tell. Anyway, speed upgrades are done; the rest of your body is the same- sensory receptors are good, memory chip still intact, et cetera."

She rambles on and on; he's used to tuning her out at this point. As long as his body is in peak condition, he doesn't need to know what else extra she's stacked on him.

"-and the dick. Make sure to test it out at some point."

He blinks. "What'd ya say?"

She groans. "The dick, Boothill. Make sure to test it."

"What dick are ya talking about? If you're trying to say I'm a piece of shi-"

"I added a dick attachment to your body, dumbass." She points towards his crotch. "I had an extra one that I really need to get rid of, so I'm giving it to you. Use it, rip it up and toss it, I don't care- just get it off my back!"

And with no further explanation, the mechanic practically throws him out the store, slamming the door with extra ferocity. Boothill lies on the ground, blinking a few times in shock, before checking his pants, and lo and behold, there is a silicone dick attachment. Sensory receptors and everything, he hisses when he pokes lightly at it, the wires in his body jittering at the unfamiliar sensation.

Doe eyes and a teary smile flash in the back of his mind.

He suddenly jumps to his feet with a vengeance and slams on the door. "You cheating, deceitful shirt-bag! Take this fudging thing off right now! You hear me, woman?! Take this shirt off right now!"

He's no doubt starting a commotion, a crowd drawing in to witness his rage-induced ranting and raving. But then his phone dings, and he's forced to put a pin in it, taking out the shitty device to hear the alarm: Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Meeting with ML @ 18:00! Be there or be square!

Ah, shit.

He can't miss this meeting, not even to blow a hole right between that shitty mechanic's eyebrows. ML is too valuable to lose, having provided him with incredibly detailed information on Oswaldo Schneider and the IPC time and again. Almost as if they have an agenda against that sick bastard as well.

Well. The enemy of an enemy is a friend, right? He'll take what he can get. And if they end up turning their back, well, he's sure his bullet is faster than their legs.

So he leans to the door, whispers a deadly "I'll be back for you, baby," and dashes to his spaceship to head over to Mavorosa.

And as he's prepping for flight, he looks over at the picture on the dashboard.

It's the only one Boothill has of you. The three of you, together- him holding little Cherry in one arm and your waist in the other, you wrapping your arms around him and your baby girl with your sweet smile and moon lily eyes.

He brushes a metal fingertip over your face.

"Just hang in there, moon lily," he whispers, a clump in his throat. "We're one step closer; ML's got some good intel on the son of a nice lady that destroyed our planet- our home. That destroyed you."

Boothill lost the ability to cry long ago, but the corners of his eyes itch all the same. He gnaws on his lip so hard, drops of blue blood trickle down his chin.

"I swear to you, darlin', I'm gonna get our revenge against that beautiful bench. He'll wish he never set his filthy sights on our home once I'm through with him." He gently picks up the photo and presses his lips to your image. "And then I'll come home. To Cherry, Nick and Gray, my siblings. I'll come home to you. We'll get started on that house we talked about, maybe some runts so Cherry can be a big sister..."

He swallows, then carefully puts the photo back on the dashboard. The lump doesn't disappear, so once the spaceship is cruising through the stars to Mavorosa, he sets it on autopilot and descends into the belly to go to his chest of valuables. He opens it up and delicately takes out the moon lily crown.

The one he was working on for you, a promise of his undying devotion. Before the world exploded in fire and ash. Before the IPC decimated his family, the moon lily meadow... decimated you.

He closes his eyes and raises it to his face. Even preserved, the petals are still soft to the touch, and smell just as lovely.

Just like you.

He won't let your death be in vain. He won't.

The lump in his metal chest morphs into rage.

Boothill opens his eyes.

[...]

If not for the Stellaron, Mavorosa would be a wonderful planet. A once lively city now stands abandoned, its skyscrapers and glass structures being embraced by nature once again.

You stand on the rooftop, mask and voice synthesizer on, fidgeting with the USB, simply observing everything when-

"So this is what you look like. I thought you'd be bigger," a male voice calls behind you.

Your body freezes. That voice... it sounds like...

No. You must be wrong. Maybe you've been so lonely that every male voice just starts to sound like your deceased lover.

"I thought you'd be here earlier," you reply with your warped voice. "Time is precious to you and me both, BH."

"Sorry, had to wrap up some... personal stuff on my end. I'm here now, ain't I?" The oh-so-familiar yet distant voice chuckles. "Well. Business ain't gonna settle itself. Where's the drive?"

"Where's the payment? We both know I don't work free."

He huffs. "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. Don't worry, I got your cash. Just fork over the drive, no need to make things difficult, not after everything, yeah? Haven't I earned your trust by now?"

"You realize how difficult face-to-face is? It takes a substantial amount of effort to get this intel, not to mention the possibility of being-" You turn around in your exasperation-

And you drop the USB.

Tall and metal. Flowing black-and-white hair. Piercing gray-and-red eyes. Sharp teeth.

"Y'know, I've always wanted to be a gunslinger, just like Nick," [???] cackled, whipping out his revolver and making dramatic poses with it. "Maybe be one of those boothills of legend."

"I'd rather you not," you murmured as you brushed off some dirt off of his shirt. "Those boothills always died on their feet. I'd rather you not die at all."

He softened, and with a smile, he put down his gun and sidled up to you, bringing you in his embrace, warm and strong. You breathed in his comforting scent and sighed happily.

"Don't you worry about that, hun." He kissed your cheek, then square on your mouth. "I ain't goin' nowhere. You can't get rid of me that easy!"

BH. Boothill.

How could you not notice earlier?

Your mouth dries. You can't move a muscle.

It's him. Mechanical, but very much alive.

"Hey, watch the merchandise!" he hisses, pointing at the fallen USB. "I need that, don't you forget it!"

"How are you..." you weakly gasp, then you grab the USB. "Here. Take it. Forget the money."

You slide it over to him, and he stops it with his foot. But his eyes narrow at you.

"Whaddaya mean, 'How are you,' huh?" He walks towards you, slow and leisurely, like a coyote cornering its helpless prey. "You say that like you're shocked I'm still around. What'd ya do, huh? Sell me off to the IPC?"

"No!" you cry, shocked. "I would never-!"

"Why so jittery, partner? What are you hiding?" He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "How about a show of trust, huh? You take off that cute little mask of yours, I don't shoot you dead, and we keep our little arrangement goin'. Sound fair?"

You turn around, eyes searching for an escape route.

Aeons above, you need to leave. You can't show him your face. You can't remind him of everything he lost, the people he couldn't save. You can't hurt him any more than you already have. You're afraid. You want to hide. You're selfish. You want to tell him. You're in love.

You want to die. You want the ground to swallow you alive. You want to hole away in your shack and wallow in your grief, descend into a spiral of what-ifs: what if you tried harder to find him? What if you searched the whole IPC ship you snuck on trying to resolve things peacefully until you found him? What if you ran out earlier and tried to bring him with you? What if, what if, what if-

"Now that you got some measure of my grit," he whispers in your ear, suddenly standing behind you, "I'm sure you know how this ends, yeah? C'mon now, take it off."

You pant heavily, head dizzy with his close proximity- god, even with the metal, he still smells the same. "I- I can't-"

"Feelin' shy? Alright, I'll do it for you."

"No! Please, no!" You swat at his hands and try to break free of his iron grip, but he grabs you hard and pulls you against his chest.

He cackles, metallic and bitter. "And here I thought I finally had an ally, but no- you're just like the rest of 'em shirt-bags." He whips out his revolver and raises it to your head. "Take. It. Off. Now."

You want to cry. You don't want to hurt him.

Slowly, with trembling hands, you take off your mask...

And his gun falls to the floor.

Doe eyes. Soft cheeks. Scars. Floral scent.

"What made you wanna be a florist?" he asked you once, helping you water the rainbow roses. "They're pretty and all, don't get me wrong. But don't you want somethin' more exciting?"

"On the contrary, I think they're very exciting," you explained. "They all have their unique personality; some need lots of love and care, and others don't mind if you go missing for a week or two. There's flowers that only stay with you for so long, and there are others that will love you for as long as you'll let them."

He grunted. "Sounds like you'd do just fine without me."

"Oh, please." You put down your watering can and embraced him from behind. And just as planned, he melted at your touch. "Moon lilies love the moon, but they need the sun to grow. And that's exactly what you are to me."

"The moon?"

"The sun."

ML. Moon lily.

It's so obvious, how did he not realize it sooner?

He lets you go. You immediately stumble away from him, hands covering your face in shame.

Boothill has no lungs, yet he feels his chest collapse.

"(Y/N)?" he calls to you, weak and desperate. "Moon lily? That's really you, right?" He reaches out, hand shaking. But when he grazes your shoulder, you hunch further into yourself. "I- I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to scare ya. Please..."

Boothill willingly let go of his humanity. But right here, right now, he wishes he still had his skin.

"Please, darlin'... turn around? Let me see you, please."

You shiver, tears spilling down your cheeks, and slap a hand over your mouth. You can't hurt him, you'll never hurt him. "I can't... I can't see you."

His body wants to collapse. He wants to grab you by your shoulders and kiss you senseless, look at you from head to toe and sing praises to Lan for protecting you and keeping you safe.

But you won't see him. You won't turn around.

"Why?" he whines, like a pleading child. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not the same anymore!" you sob. "I'm not your moon lily anymore! I don't want to remind you of everything you lost! I don't want to hurt you anymore! You don't know the things I've done, the blood I spilled, all to destroy the IPC!" You sink to the floor in despair, echoes of the dead haunting you, swarming your mind. "I can't bear to see you hate me for being alive when everyone else died. I already hate myself so much, hated myself because I couldn't save anyone else! I thought I lost you, but now I realize I didn't search for you at all! I didn't even try to find you, I..."

You cry and sob and scream. You pound the floor with your fists. You pull at your hair, your clothes, your skin, so hard that drops of blood water the cement.

Boothill's eyes itch with tears that will never spill. His chest burns with a profound grief that will never truly be his own.

"You think I don't feel that way about myself?" he finally whispers. Bravely, he takes a step closer to you. "From the moment the bombs fell, I was never the same. I changed too much to be that man you met at the market- hell, I don't even have the body anymore." He sits just behind you, close to touch but not close enough. "The blood I spilled would be enough to fill oceans. But I'm still here. I still remember everything. I still remember you." His hand, feather-light, brushes your arm. You don't pull away. "I thought I lost you. When I went back to the ranch and couldn't find anyone there, I thought you were one of the piles of ashes on the ground." He chokes as he speaks, but he pushes on. "I never hated myself more. I failed to save them; I failed to save you."

You shake your head, but he gently rests his head on your back, right between your shoulder blades. He breathes you in- dust, machine oil, and moon lilies.

You smell so alive.

"How could you think I'd ever hate you," he whimpers, "when there's no one I hate more than myself? No, sweetheart, I could never hate you. I never will. Nothing you do could ever make me hate you. So please, turn around..." He grabs a fistful of your shirt and tugs. "I'm begging you. Let me see your face, please."

Your heart breaks. You couldn't fathom how much he suffered, how lonely he must have felt, the self-loathing that coursed through his wires every time he looked in the mirror.

Just like you.

"Don't hate yourself," you sniffle, rubbing your eyes. "Nothing you do could ever make me hate you either. What happened wasn't your fault; you didn't know what the IPC was going to do until it happened."

He lets out a small huff. "I could easily say the same about you. It wasn't your fault either- neither of us could've known until it was too late."

You exhale shakily. "Do you really mean it? Not hating me?"

Boothill smiles. "Every word."

For a moment, you're afraid. What if he doesn't like what he sees? You know he's not a superficial man, but you're still not the sweet florist he remembers anymore.

You suck in a deep breath. He's not the same man you remember, but he's still your cowboy, your Boothill.

Slowly, you turn around, and...

Oh. His face is just how you remember. His beautiful silky hair, the red targets in his eyes still framed within familiar stormy gray. When you reach out with trembling hands to cup his smooth cheeks, he melts in your touch just how he always did.

And melt he does. He nearly moans at your soft touch, pressing his cheek into your palms to keep your focus on him. He drinks up every detail of your face and commits it to memory- your beautiful moony eyes and the dark circles under them, the faintest hint of a scar curling from the edge of your jawline into your neck, your soft hair that smells of moon lilies.

You're still you, the sweet florist he fell in love with all those years ago. And now you've returned to him, and this time, he'll never let you go.

He sits you on his lap and embraces you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and savoring your scent. You wrap your legs around his waist and make yourself comfortable, admiring his metal body, tracing patterns into the steel.

"I love you," he whispers with a kiss to the corner of your mouth. "I never stopped loving you, not for one second."

"I'm sorry I didn't look for you," you confess. "But I kept you in my heart every day. Even when we weren't together, you were always a part of me."

"I'm here now." He pulls away to admire you, his thumb brushing your bottom lip as he gazes at you with what you could only describe as reverence. "I'm right here with you. I'm not leaving you ever again."

Boothill didn't realize how much his world lacked color until he kisses you, but now he swears he can see every color in the spectrum flash before his eyes. You taste just how he remembers, sweet and salty with your tears. When you pull away for air, he dives back in to reclaim your lips, hooking a hand around your neck to keep you in place.

He won't let you slip from his fingers again. And you clearly feel the same way, because you tangle your hands with his hair and tug him closer, pulling him on top of you.

"Please don't be a dream," you cry in his shoulder, and it damn near breaks his heart. "I don't want to wake up if it is."

"Darlin', those dreams are better off in Penacony; I'm right here. Does this," he kisses your cheek, "or this," he squeezes your ass and relishes in your squeal, "or this..." He grinds into you, and you gasp, squeezing his shoulders with a whimper. And fuck, maybe he was a bit too harsh with that mechanic, he should send her flowers or something, because your face contorted in shock and a hint of reawakened pleasure is a drug he will happily become addicted to. He nibbles on your ear and whispers, "Any of that feel like a dream to you?"

"...No." You stare at him, moon lily eyes abloom with hearts and love and fuck, he wants you, he needs you.

And your eyes are reflected in his, because you're so captivated by how the targets in his gaze morph into blood red hearts that drip with love and devotion. You want to give him everything, bring him under your skin and into your heart so you'll never be separated again.

"I love you." You smile and open your arms for him. "Let's never be apart again."

Boothill's brain short-circuits. He can only remember the minutiae of what happens next- tearing off your clothes, your hands running across his metallic chest, his sensors working in overdrive to let him process your touch, your smell, your taste, as he kisses, nibbles and sucks his way across the canvas of your body to reach your core.

But just as he's about to taste your liquid gold, you tug on his hair. He immediately moves up to your face, nuzzling into your neck to comfort you.

"What's wrong, moon lily? I'll be gentle, I promise," he reassures you, but you bite your lip and shake your head.

"I know. But I don't want that right now; I want you to fuck me."

You spread your legs, once again revealing your soaking pussy to his hungry eyes, and fuck, his mouth goes dry at the exquisite feast before him. And his new dick feels the same way, as the electricity in his body jolts it to life, straining against his pants.

He swallows. "Yeah, baby. I want you too, but I gotta prep ya, or it's gonna hurt."

"Don't care!" you whine, and on Lan's Arrow, you're so cute with your pouting and wailing. "I need you, Hillie, I need it, I need it-!"

Ah, fuck. He can't say no to you, and he won't start now.

So he rips off his pants, and after a few quick pumps of his new cock (yeah, he'll send some flowers to the mechanic as a thank-you), he grabs hold on your hips and thrusts forward.

You shriek at the burning sensation, scrambling for grip on his shoulders as he penetrates deeper and deeper. Fuck, it's been so long since you had sex of any kind, and it shows. You moan loudly, shamelessly, so sensitive to the buttons his cock presses perfectly against your walls, that you cum instantly when he bottoms out, hips meeting yours with a soft thud.

"Fuuudge," Boothill groans, each syllable drawn out in pleasure, "you're so tight, sugar~ I can't even move..."

His brain might just melt from the overload of sensations. Your pussy's so tight, so wet, he's damn sure he near ascended to aeonhood. And your face is so adorable when cumming, he makes sure to engrave every part of it into his neurochip and brush the hair out of your eyes, moving his hips in slow, shallow thrusts, guiding you out of the afterglow.

When you finally blink the stars out of your eyes, you see Boothill hovering above you, rubbing your cheek with hearts in his eyes.

"God, you're so fudgin' gorgeous." He grins, sharp teeth glinting in the dim light, and a shiver of excitement runs down your spine. "Think you got another for me?"

You whine, "Still sensi- AH!"

He immediately sets a vigorous pace, hips slamming against yours in a hypnotic rhythm. He fixates on your breasts, and leans over to take a hard nipple in his mouth to suck and lick and nibble. You squeal and pull on his hair. He bites your skin in retaliation.

"Easy, moon lily," he moans, quickly stifling it with a kiss. "Hold on to me."

He grabs under your arms and lifts you onto his lap. His cock sinks impossibly deeper inside you, the tip nudging at your cervix. With a shriek, you bite his neck to try and ease the discomfort, but it only excites him more. With a guttural groan, he thrusts up into your sopping hole, bouncing you up and down with rough hands to set an even rougher pace.

You're still so sensitive; too much, too fast, and his cock fits so snugly inside you that you're already spiraling towards another release. But you don't want to make that journey alone, you want Boothill beside you.

So you grab his face and devour his mouth, pressing your tongue against his to savor his metallic taste. He moans against your lips, hips stuttering in an effort to keep up with you.

"Wanna make you feel good," you pant heavily. You carefully slide up and down on his thick cock, head thrown back as it hits your sweet spot. "Wanna... wanna cum with you!"

"Y- you are, baby," he groans against your neck, each word punctuated with a deep thrust. "You're makin' me feel so- darn- good-"

You're so close, you can see the faintest glimmer of stars again. Or maybe that was the sparks from his body as it overworks to keep his sensors running, so he can keep feeling you, tasting you, fucking you.

"Hillie," you gasp when the stars start to overwhelm you. "Hillie, I-"

"I know, baby, let go, I'm right with ya." He kisses you, over and over, thrusts sloppy as he chases his high, sensors working overdrive, wires sparking to further push him over the edge. "I'm- fudge, fudge, fudge-!"

He chokes, and you both come undone together, chasing that relentless wave of pleasure side by side. Stars collide and burst in showers of gold and silver, and your strength all but fails you, so you collapse in Boothill's arms, rubbing your cheek on his cool chest.

He catches his breath, letting his sensors rest as he basks in that afterglow. His wires are probably fried after such an intense sensory overload, but he can't bring himself to give a damn. Not when you're sitting so pretty in his arms, eyes just barely able to stay open.

You're so cute when you're sleepy, it's hard to not bite your cheek like he used to do. But tonight, he'll be generous and resist the temptation; you need your rest.

He runs a hand through your hair, and he once again finds himself wishing he still had his skin. But he sets that aside, preferring to be lost in your sleepy smile instead.

"Love you, Hillie," you coo drowsily, head nodding off.

"I love you more, moon lily," he whispers back with a kiss to your forehead.

In a moment, he'll bring you on his spaceship and clean you up, then tuck you in the spare bunk next to his charging port. He'll have to look at that USB you painstakingly put together for him sooner or later.

But for now, right here, he's not going anywhere.

His moon lily came back to him.

Boothill has finally returned home.

[Post-Credit]

"What the actual hell is this..." the mechanic sighs as she stares at the large bouquet of blue flowers.

She wonders if she should toss them out before she notices the card.

Thanks for the added bonus, Doc! - BH & ML

Her eyebrows raise. The handwriting's too nice and legible to be that Galaxy Ranger's, so...

She chuckles. "I figured it'd come in handy sooner or later."

She sets the bouquet on her desk and continues on with her work.

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

A/N: holy shirtballs BOOOTHILL MY LOVE AAAAAAAHSHDHDBSK I LOVE HIM SO MUCH LIKE I NEVER LOVED A CHARACTER BEFORE

...if only he loved me back just the slightest, cuz I lost 50/50 and went hard pity to get him. But I did win his lightcone so I guess it's even...?

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 30 - Yandere!Fallen Angel!Seonghwa + Somnophilia & Body Worship

Anonymous Said: Seonghwa from ateez. Consensual Somnophilia & Body worship. Yandere & fallen angel or guardian angel. A/n: I am SO sorry that this is late, life has just been a bit hectic lately. Again, it's Hwa, so I couldn't help myself. It's not as long as I was originally going to make it, but I like where it ends honestly. He's intense in the best ways imo, and I do really love how this turned out. I also have a yandere angel ateez series planned at some point where Hwa is an archangel, so I'm also really excited about that. It's heavily inspired by his Will To Power solo stage, so I hope you all can look forward to that at some point! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy! Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Possession, Monster Features, Yandere, Blood mentioned in brief (not in a kinky way), Lots of religious metaphors, Overstimulation, Oral (fem. rec), Fingering (fem. rec), Squirting, Minor Dacryphilia (if you squint), There's a lot :) Word Count: 4,821 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

Park Seonghwa is a man of many emotions.

Well… technically he’s not a man, but there is no one in this universe that makes him feel more human than you. 

There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you. You are his one saving grace in this hellish landscape called earth, and he will do anything to protect that fact. No one is off limits. Nothing is too much. For when it comes to you, you deserve nothing but the best this world has to offer. 

His best. 

Seonghwa will always make sure of that.

The water feels cool against his skin despite the steam rising through the air. One of his hands is braced against the stone tiles of the shower wall, letting the flow of water cascade down his back and pool around the drain. Red streaks against his skin, little rivulets creating vein-like patterns across his figure as he washes away the horrific events of the evening.

You can never know. You will never know. 

Seonghwa has spent his whole life guarding those most precious to him. Now, you’re the only thing left that matters.

You. Who still sleeps soundly beneath the thick covers of his duvet as he steps out of the bathroom a short while later. Your features rest in a soft expression of pure bliss, chest rising and falling steadily. The light of the moon only serves to make your skin glow, illuminating every inch of you that he has always loved more than anything else in this godforsaken world.

A pleased smile tugs at his lips, eyes shining with nothing but adoration as he observes you through the dark. Lightly, he fluffs his damp hair with the towel held in his hand, the one wrapped around his waist hanging dangerously low. Small droplets of water cascade down his chest which he is quick to wipe away.

After all, you’re expecting him to join you, and he hates to keep you waiting.

With his lips curling upwards into that all too familiar loving smile, he takes a step towards the bed. Large, fluffy wings emerge from his back, deep red in colour. As he fluffs the feathers lightly, he lets the towel fall from his waist. The other is quick to join the growing heap on the floor, knowing you’ll more than likely scold him in the morning for tossing the damp material in the middle of the room.

Sometimes, Seonghwa swears he does these types of things on purpose just to hear you scold him. The way you shake your head in exasperation, muttering about whatever it is he’s done this time makes him all giddy inside. It means you’re paying attention to him. It means you care.

Or maybe he just enjoys making things up to you in any and every way he can.

A massage here. Breakfast in bed there. Perhaps even you allowing him to get lost in that glorious heat that rests between your legs, making you shake in uncontrollable bliss.

After all, it is one of his absolute favourite pastimes.

Seonghwa thought he knew what it meant to worship something, or someone, wholeheartedly. That is, until he met you.

All of the time in the world is still too short of an eternity to be spent with you by his side.

The stars pale in comparison to you, for you hold entire galaxies in your eyes. Your smile warms his very soul each and every time he sees that glorious expression stretch across your face. All music sounds dull whenever the melodic symphony of your laughter filters through the air. Not to mention how strong and intelligent you are. 

Kind, witty, caring… The list of your perfections continues to grow everyday, and everyday he knows you is a blessing beyond his wildest dreams. Seonghwa could spend hours lost within the confines of your mind, learning everything there is to know about you, and so much more. Each new discovery is a revelation of the highest regard, and he strives to satisfy in every way.

Every word you speak is gospel, and he is your most devout follower.

Lifting the covers gently, Seonghwa slides into bed beside you. He’s extra careful to not disturb you, not wanting to accidentally wake you at this time. Still, he cannot help but shift closer, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his chest. The way you subconsciously turn into him, snuggling deeper into his embrace only serves to make him smile.

Even in your dreams, you always know how to find your way home. To him.

Subtly, his arms tighten around you, placing a tender kiss to the top of your head. His wings wrap around you, encasing you in a soft red cocoon and ensuring your safety. Your comfort and wellbeing are his number one priorities, and once he knows you’re settled in his embrace, he fully allows himself to relax. 

Soon, his own eyes are fluttering shut, drifting off to meet you inside of your dreams.

A few hours later, Seonghwa is blinking awake. His head now rests on top of your chest, your arms cradling him to you in your sleep. 

Despite such a short bout of rest, he feels refreshed, having slept deeper with you safely wrapped in his arms. Gladly, he melts into your embrace, breathing in your scent and letting everything you completely surround him.

The moon still rests high in the sky, a gentle breeze drifting through the slight crack in the open window. The room is quiet, nothing but the soft sounds of your mingling breaths filling the space.

Seonghwa holds you tighter. Turning his head, his lips press tenderly against your chest, just above your heart. His hair tickles your skin, and you shiver lightly from his touch.

Peeking his dark gaze upwards, Seonghwa studies your features. Your brow seems to be furrowed slightly in discomfort, and a moment later, you squirm lightly beneath him. Your nails suddenly dig into the skin of his shoulders, a soft, muffled whimper escaping your lips.

Worry tugs at his features as he reaches a hand up to soothe your brow. He’s quick to cup your cheek, thumb brushing gently over your skin as he lifts himself slightly above you. Intently, he studies your face, searching for any signs of what may be the problem.

That’s when it hits him. You must be having a nightmare.

Just as he shifts his hand to your shoulder in attempts to wake you up, you let out a sound that has him freezing above you.

His name. You moan his name.

A smug grin tugs at the corner of his lips as he realizes what’s really going on here. Pride swells in his chest at the fact that he could make you dream of him like this, knowing how often he dreams of you. What serves to make this moment ever better is when you let out another small whimper, tightening your hands on his shoulders as your hips jerk upwards against his own.

“Pretty Girl,” His low voice purrs out. “What could you possibly be dreaming of, hmm?”

Cocking his head to the side, he stares down at you. His chest is pressed flush against your own, forearms supporting him on either side of you as he settles more comfortably between your legs.

Leaning into you, he begins to place soft kisses against your cheek. Slowly, he trails his lips down your jawline, tracing over your pulse, then back up again. All the while, that same smirk tugs at his features.

His nose nudges tenderly against your jaw.

“Why live in a fantasy when I can make all of your dreams a reality?”

More kisses are placed upon the skin of your neck as he slowly begins to make his way down your body. His touch is feather light, wings twitching excitedly in the air behind him as he tugs your shirt down gently. The straps of your tank top easily slide down your arms, and with a quick movement, he’s snapping them as if they were nothing but brittle string.

The sound of tearing fabric echoes around the room as he shreds through your shirt, pausing lightly to check on you. He forgot how loud that could be, his mind having been focussed on exposing you to the most pleasure that he can give you. Of course, that meant exposing you, but he doesn’t want to wake you from your blissful slumber quite yet.

Not even his chest rises or falls with breath as he hovers above you, watching you closely for any signs of movement. After a little while passes with your eyes still shut, steady breathing and soft whimpers still falling from you, he breathes a sigh of relief.

Slowly, carefully, he discards your shirt, hands beginning to trace over your sides. His touch is gentle, eyes taking in every bare inch of skin presented to him. Nothing but admiration shines in his gaze, a dark, primal sort of lust hiding within. He’s hoping beyond anything to have you smoothly transition from your dream into reality. For when you do, he’ll be ready and waiting with open arms.

There is nothing more rewarding to him than your pleasure. The fact that he alone is the only one able to bring you to such ecstasy makes his heart swell with so much love and pride within his chest. Only he can touch you like this. Only he lives to serve you, to make you see the far reaches of the heavens each time your eyes flutter shut in bliss. Your pleasure is his pleasure, and he could spend eternity worshipping you, all while making you scream his name.

Ever so gently, he presses his face against your chest, right in the valley of your breasts. His hands come up to cup such tender flesh, inhaling deeply as he nuzzles against you. Again, his lips press a tender kiss directly over your heart, wings fluttering in content as his thumbs tease over your nipples.

Fingers trace languidly against your skin, needing to feel every inch of you beneath his touch. Slowly, Seonghwa begins trailing feather light kisses down your body, heart fluttering in anticipation. Every second that passes, your scent becomes stronger, your thighs subconsciously squeezing around his sides. He knows you need him just as desperately as he needs you, and he does not want to waste any more time than he already has.

Reaching the hemline of your sleep shorts, Seonghwa dips the tips of his fingers beneath the band. A tender kiss is placed onto the skin of your stomach, nose nudging against you affectionately. The corner of his lips quirks upwards as he slowly begins tugging your shorts down your thighs, being extra cautious not to wake you.

Of course, Seonghwa cannot help himself. How can he when he has the most perfect being laid out before him? Temptation wins out as he presses loving kisses against your thighs with each inch revealed to him. Once he fully removes your shorts, he nearly lets out a low moan when the sight of your bare pussy, needy and already shimmering with your arousal, is presented to him.

Tossing your shorts somewhere in the room, Seonghwa is quick to run his hands up the length of your legs. His fingers ghost against your skin, breathing deepening as your scent completely immerses him in everything you. Once he reaches the tops of your thighs, his thumbs begin to softly brush against the sensitive flesh. The way you shiver beneath his touch, even while still asleep, makes him smile.

Again, he leans into you, pressing delicate kisses against the skin of your thighs. His teeth graze your flesh, teasing at you as he continues to brush his thumbs over you.

Every little sound you make, every twitch and shudder of your body, has his cock absolutely throbbing against the mattress. A carnal ache resides within him. A desperation only you can satiate. Yet, when it comes to you, he always wants more.

Finally, unable to wait even a moment longer, Seonghwa presses his face against your cunt. He noses along your slit, inhaling deeply as his whole body shudders from your scent. Teasingly, his tongue flicks out to taste you, and even the briefest touch of your arousal on his lips has him moaning shamelessly against your core.

Something within himself snaps. 

With his whole body shaking in need, Seonghwa buries himself deep in your cunt. Desperate, guttural moans escape him as he drags his tongue through your folds, eagerly suckling at the sweet nectar that flows from between your legs. His lips place a few chaste kisses against your clit before he’s wrapping them around such a sensitive little bud, suckling at you eagerly.

His eyes nearly roll to the back of his head, tongue flattening against your clit before rolling in circles. His hot breath hits your cunt with every exhale, wings fluttering above him as he groans lowly. Desperately, his hands tighten over your waist, pulling you even closer into his touch.

A pleased rumble shakes his chest once he feels your fingers tangle in his hair. The way you hold him to your cunt, tugging him in closer has him redoubling his efforts over you.

Heavy breathing permeates the room, your hips beginning to grind against his face in time with his movements. Sleep still clings to the corners of your vision, eyes barely cracked open to peer at him through the darkness. Each flick of his tongue over your clit has pleasant jolts of pure ecstasy coursing through your veins, already feeling so close to the edge as that familiar pressure builds within.

His movements are desperate, shaking his head back and forth while sucking your clit between his lips. Sharp, hooded eyes glint up at you through the shadows, his hips beginning to grind against the mattress as his fingers dig into your skin.

Again, he tugs you in impossibly closer, tongue slipping down to dip between your folds. Swirling the muscle around your entrance, he hums, pressing himself firmer into your cunt. His nose grinds against your clit, tongue buried as deep as possible within you as he licks and sucks almost uncontrollably.

The sound of your moans create a beautiful symphony around him, urging him on. He can tell you’re close. The way your thighs begin to shake around his head makes his cock twitch. His hips grind harder against the mattress, silently begging for you to fall apart with him as he brings you to ecstasy.

Wrapping his lips around your clit once more, it’s like you answer his every prayer.

Back arching from the bed, you come with a loud cry of his name. Your thighs squeeze around his head, holding him in place as he flattens his tongue against you, letting you ride out your orgasm as you grind your hips against him. Whimpers and moans echo alongside blissful sighs of his name, your heart racing as pleasure floods your veins.

The moment he feels you flooding his tongue, his eyes roll into the back of his head. With your thighs closing around his head, his pleased cries get muffled against your cunt as he comes with you. Hot spurts of his come soak into the sheets beneath his hips, fingers digging harshly into your skin. His wings flare out behind him, shuddering along with his whole body as he keeps himself buried against you.

Slowly, you begin to catch your breath.

Bringing your one hand up, you rub at your face. Blinking a few times to clear your vision, you spare a glance at the seraphim between your legs.

Dark eyes already stare up at you lovingly, a soft chuckle shaking his chest. His fingers smooth over your skin, leaning in once more to place a tender kiss against your clit.

“Good morning, My Beloved.” At the way you simply groan in response, a knowing smile begins to tug at his lips. “Good dream?”

“Mmmh, the best…” Humming, you rub lightly at your eyes. A moment later, you pause in your movements, brow furrowing slightly as you take in just how dark the room still is. “What time is it?”

Seonghwa, who has begun placing tender kisses along the skin of your thighs once more, smiles up at you from between your legs. “Not yet dawn.”

You stretch lightly, brushing a hand over your forehead as you take a deep breath in. “What time did you get in last night? I didn’t hear you come home.”

That single, simple word makes him smile, heart warming inside of his chest.

“Not that long ago.” He noses along your thigh, drifting closer and closer to your core with each movement. “I’m glad my return didn’t wake you. Though, it was a treat seeing you wearing those Tweety Bird pyjama shorts I got you.”

Your face flares with heat, averting your gaze to the side.

“They’re comfy.” You mumble, the cutest of pouts tugging at your lips.

Seonghwa chuckles, a soft expression resting on his features as he admires every inch of you before him. The way your fingers lightly begin to play with some strands of his hair has him leaning into your touch.

A pleased rumble shakes his chest, hands caressing over the sides of your thighs and up your hips. Lightly, his gaze flicks downwards, shifting between staring into your eyes before glancing hungrily at your dripping cunt.

“Beloved…”

The desperate moan Seonghwa lets out goes straight to your core, causing you to clench around nothing. A movement of which he eagerly catches.

“Yes, Seonghwa?”

A shiver caresses his spine as you coo his name so tenderly.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“More.” His voice trembles in need as his fingers dig into the skin of your hips. He pulls your closer, chest beginning to rise and fall dramatically as he stares, transfixed, at your weeping cunt. “Give me more.”

“Greedy little angel…” You chuckle, tracing your fingers over the side of his cheek. “Don’t you know that gluttony is a sin?”

“But I made a mess, Beloved.” Wide eyes peer up at you, a dark lust swirling behind the guise of innocence. “A beautiful, intoxicating mess. It’s only right that I clean you up.”

“You can’t fool me, Angel.” The corner of your lips quirk upwards in amusement, eyes shining as you peer down at him. “I know you only want to clean me up just so you can make a mess out of me again.”

A pout tugs at his features, eyebrows drooping dramatically. “But I love making a mess out of you.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret, then.” You smile, gently brushing some hair out of his eyes. “I love it, too.”

Seonghwa does not need to be told twice.

Without wasting another second, his tongue is back on you. This time, his movements are a lot slower. More precise. No drop is to go to waste. He wants to take his time, letting you feel every ounce of his love and passion for you. He wants you to know just how much he desires you, and just how much he enjoys this.

Pleased hums escape him as he drags his tongue through your folds, laving his mouth over your entire pussy. Dark eyes lock onto your own as he suckles and licks at your cunt, wings fluttering lightly in the air. His hands creep up your sides, touch trailing against your skin as he shifts to cup your breasts. He pinches at your nipples, rolling the pert buds between his fingers before tugging at them gently.

A low moan parts your lips, arching into his touch. Almost immediately, your hands come up to cover his own, pressing them firmer against your breasts. The content rumble that shakes his chest goes straight to your core, clenching around his tongue as he buries the muscle into your tight cunt.

Curling his tongue, his nose brushes tenderly against your clit. He pinches at your nipples once more, squeezing the flesh of your breasts appreciatively. As your hips begin to grind against him, he smirks. Humming contently, Seonghwa shifts to wrap his lips back around that sensitive little bundle of nerves, suckling lightly before flicking his tongue against you.

Soft moans and whimpers slip passed your lips, fingers returning to his hair to pull him in closer. Your whole body feels as if it’s floating, completely relaxing beneath his touch as pleasure courses through your veins. 

Everything about him is sinful. From the way his dark eyes shine beneath the light of the moon, captivating you in their loving, lustful pools. To the way his hands trace over your skin, burning multiple paths of desire, comfort, safety, and fulfillment all at the same time. You cannot count the amount of times he’s lost himself in you using just his tongue, and you know that tonight is no exception.

Your heart swells with nothing but love as he reaches out for your free hand. Almost instantly, he’s intertwining your fingers with his, squeezing gently. 

He’s right here, and he always will be.

Using his opposite hand, he parts your folds with two fingers. His tongue licks a long strip up your cunt before flattening over your clit. Now that he’s opened you completely to him, there is nothing in the way for him to be able to give you the most pleasure that he can.

A deep groan reverberates against you, hot breaths hitting your cunt with every exhale.

“Best fucking pussy I’ve ever had the pleasure to worship.” A tender kiss is placed upon your clit. “Perfect, delectable little cunt… Only one I’ll ever want. Only one I’ll ever need.”

Your eyes nearly roll to the back of your head, thighs shaking from his words. Your fingers tighten in his hair, squeezing his hand in your own as you whimper his name.

“That’s it, Beloved,” He coos, bumping his nose against your clit affectionately. “Say my name. Scream my name to the heavens and tell them who your eternal servant is. Tell them who it always will be. In this life, and the next. For all eternity.”

Your whole body begins to tremble as he wraps his lips around your clit, gently suckling on that sensitive little bundle of nerves. He purposely keeps you suspended in bliss, teetering right on the edge as he watches your whole being flood with ecstasy.

Pride fills his chest at how you whimper and whine for him, your hips desperately rolling against his tongue as he teases at your cunt.

“Tell me, Beloved,” A harsh suck is given to your clit, his eyes flashing as he locks gazes with you. “Who does such a delectable pussy belong to?”

All that you can manage is a desperate moan, chest heaving as that building pressure becomes almost unbearable within you. You can feel your clit practically pulsating, beginning to clench rhythmically around nothing.

“Who’s pretty pussy am I allowed to worship? To devour?”

“Seonghwa-“

“Say it.” Dark eyes flash beneath the moonlight, tone sharp as he growls lowly. “Come on, Pretty Girl. I want to hear you say it.”

Your breath hitches, nearing choking on a whine. Squeezing your eyes shut at the pleasure overwhelming your every nerve, you attempt to steady your shaking form. Taking a deep breath in, you go to speak.

However, the moment the words begin to form on your lips, Seonghwa wraps his own back around your clit, sucking harshly.

“Fuck-“ Inhaling sharply, your eyes fly open. Your voice borders on a scream as you just manage to choke out, “My pretty pussy is all yours to devour-“

Your words get caught in your throat as another loud curse escapes you, tossing your head back onto the pillows.

Seonghwa snarls against your cunt, shaking his head back and forth rapidly as he eagerly continues to suck at your clit. His hands tighten over you, pulling you impossibly closer as his wings flare out behind him.

A scream of his name tears from your throat, whole body shaking as your back arches from the bed. Your orgasm crashes into you unforgivingly, feet lifting slightly in the air from the intensity. Desperate whines and moans of his name escape you, clenching around nothing as your release floods out of you.

Only, Seonghwa doesn’t stop there.

Your cries of ecstasy only serve to spur him on as he slides the two fingers he had been using to spread your pussy open for him into your cunt. The feeling of your walls sucking him in, squeezing around his digits so delicately makes him groan. A shudder wracks his whole body, eyes closing briefly in bliss as his cock throbs against the sheets. Already he’s so close to coming again, but first, he needs to see you falling apart for him again. Because of him.

With practiced ease, he curls his fingers right up against that special spot inside of you. His tongue flicks at your clit, placing delicate kisses against that sensitive little bud before sucking harshly at it once more. The lewd, wet slurping sounds of his tongue on your cunt fill the room, only serving to make him even more feral than he already is.

High pitched moans escape you, tears of pleasure beginning to line your eyes as your whole body shakes beneath his hold. Your thighs squeeze around his head, not even deterring him in the slightest as you wither and whine. Every little touch makes your head spin, pleasure overwhelming your every sense.

You both wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Fuck- Seonghwa!” You gasp out, eyes squeezing shut as you practically curl into his touch. “Don’t stop-“ A catch in your breath as you cling to him for dear life. “Please, don’t fucking stop!”

A snarl of agreement fills the air, adding more pressure to his fingers as he massages over that special spot deep inside of you. His lips never once leave your clit, hooded gaze locked on your figure and practically demanding that you to fall apart for him right now.

With one final flick over your clit, you do.

Like lightning streaking across the sky, your orgasm crackles through your veins like a flash of electricity. Another scream of his name tears from your throat, broken and desperate as you squirt all over his face. Each movement against your cunt has you shuddering beneath his touch, vision blurring at the corners as the first of your tears of pleasure begin to slide down your cheeks.

Your hold on him is like a vice, grounding yourself to him as your chest heaves with every breath. You can feel something warm and wet splatter lightly against your thighs, Seonghwa’s deep moans beginning to harmonize alongside your own.

The way you notice his wings trembling in the air through your blissful haze causes the corners of your lips to twitch upwards. Knowing he’s just as affected as you are right now makes warmth swell inside of your chest, nothing but love flooding your very soul.

Seonghwa rests his forehead tenderly against your thigh while he catches his breath. His head swims with nothing but you, overwhelmed in the best of ways. Every ounce of his desire for you flows beneath the surface of his skin, drowning him in an undeniable ecstasy that only you can bring him. Seeing you like this - your pure and unfiltered form indulging in all that he has to offer - is unlike any other sensation he has ever felt in his entire existence.

He could never tire of this.

He could never tire of you.

Sliding his fingers from your cunt while releasing his hold on your hand, Seonghwa begins trailing kisses back up your body. Each press of his lips against you is soft, taking his time to admire every contour of your body. Every dip and curve of your glorious figure is sacred to him, and he never wants you to forget how beautiful you truly are. 

How beautiful you have always been.

Finally, his lips return to your own, giving you a deep and tender kiss which conveys his undying affections for you. Soft hums are breathed out against you, Seonghwa cupping your cheek gently in one hand while he slides his opposite arm around your waist. Pulling your chest flush against his own, he settles himself comfortably between your legs.

The feeling of his cock sliding through your wet folds, already hard and aching for you once more, makes you smile.

“My insatiable Little Sinner,” You coo, threading your fingers gently through his hair.

“When it comes to you?” His lips quirk upwards against your own, eyes shining with nothing but pure devotion as he openly admires you before him. “Always.”

[starryknight-tarot]

𝓢𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓾𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮

pile 1 -- > pile 2 pile 3 -- > pile 4

masterlist<3 . paid readings

Hello beautiful souls and Happy Halloween🎃✨ Today we will be looking into some signs that someone may be your future spouse! Remember to meditate, take a deep breath, and pick whatever pile calls to you the most. My readings are meant for everyone, no matter what sexuality or identity you are. Since this is a general reading, make sure to take what resonates and leave what doesn't. In case anyone is curious, the characters are from the mobile game Tears of Themis.

Pile 1 Cards: The Emperor, The Hierophant, The Moon, Page of Cups, Four of Swords, Page of Pentacles rx, King of Wands rx, The Lovers Back of the Deck: Five of Pentacles

Holy cow Pile 1, your fs has very strong energy and you will be able to feel this energy very powerfully. It's almost like you will feel a wave of their energy as they pass by or a shiver down your spine, the hair on your arms will stand. Your fs seems to be influencial in a way, almost like they have people wrapped around their finger. Your fs might even be quite wealthy. They may be some sort of performer or entertainer, something that would make them the center of attention quite often. Your fs may be surrounded by people or always seem to have someone around them. You may usually see them at social events or you could even meet them for the first time at a big event. For some of you, you will meet your fs super soon, at a Halloween party or something like that (if you are reading this after Halloween, it may just be a holiday party). A strong sign that they are your future spouse is if they appear like someone who has something to hide. The energy they put out seems really playful and almost innocent, but there is something about them that feels like they aren't being entirely themselves. There is also going to be a romantic attraction to each other that will be felt really strongly and quickly. For some of y'all, this is a love-at first sight-kind of deal, you are gonna think to yourself "Holy shit that person is so hot". They may also get really close to you around the time you first meet, for example putting their arm around you. The eye contact between y'all is really strong, they may have really intense or unique eyes. Although I do feel like some of you are gonna be pretty intimidated by your fs at first either because of all the people around them or the strong energy surrounding them. When you guys see your fs, you may pretty easily see past the happy-go-lucky front they put up, to you, they may seem quite depressed or distressed, and they may even have obvious dark circles under their eyes. It may not be that extreme, you may just notice that they are not as energetic and instead more calm and collected. You may notice this about them in the moments you see them away from people. This is going to be something you will feel spiritually, spirit may show you some signs right before you meet them, I am getting a blue butterfly, a bunny, a crow, or an eagle. (Also a little shout out to my lesbian and bi queens reading, a little confirmation that this is your pile)

Advice Cards:

Be adventurous. It's time to go for it! In harmony with your inner self, you are free to do or be whatever you choose Physically and/or mentally, shape up Make your presence felt It is important to ask for help Practice the pause

Channeled Songs:

Pile 2 Cards: Eight of Wands rx, Seven of Cups, The Moon, Queen of Swords rx, The Hanged Man rx, Knight of Cups, Seven of Pentacles, Five of Swords Back of the Deck: Five of Cups

Honestly, I am getting a kind of enemies-to-lovers vibe from this pile lol. It might be more of a rivals to lovers but ya get the idea. If you find yourself bickering and teasing each other in a playful way, that's a good sign they are your fs. Your fs seems like a nerd or just very studious. I am getting they may have a very particular or unique way of speaking, like overly polite or a lisp, something like that. Also for a small amount of you, they may be deaf or partially deaf. Your fs also seems to always have their head stuck in the clouds, they may daydream and get distracted easily. Your fs may have ADHD or something like that. They seem to be someone that gets flustered easily and may be very easy to tease. But your fs has a very cute energy, like they seem very nervous and worried, but they can be really passionate about certain things. I think a sign that they are your fs, is when you find yourself missing this person often. If you don't see them for a prolonged amount of time, when you find yourself missing this person, wanting to see them, you may even feel a little empty without seeing them for a long time. I also feel like your fs will actually be the one to approach you and subtly try to send hints that they like you. They may also give the cutest compliments ever. Compliments you have never heard before and you can tell they come from the heart. You may not usually believe the compliments you get but the way they compliment you, there is no doubt they meant it and it came from their heart. Double points if it came from nowhere and they don't usually say compliments to people. A sign they are your fs is if you can't imagine your future without them, I feel like one day you are going to be sitting and thinking about what your future looks like, and no matter what, they are somewhere in your future. I actually feel like it might take a while for you guys to realize that you both like each other. It may even be the kind of situation where everyone around you realizes that you have a crush on each other except you guys, who are oblivious because you can't get out of your head about the connection. A sign they are your fs is when you find yourself staring at them for a little longer than you realize. You may start to see them and they may seem to light up the room a little. Y'alls connection is so cute I can't lol.

Advice Cards:

Look closely at what is going on around you

You are greater than your story

Things might not be they seem

Reflect on one of your blessing

Act on what you know

You are healing at cellular level

Channeled Songs:

Pile 3 Cards: Five of Swords, The Fool, Ace of Pentacles rx, Four of Swords, Seven of Wands, King of Swords rx, Nine of Wands, Eight of Swords Back of the Deck: Queen of Wands

For my beautiful Pile 3, a sign that they are your fs is if they are really silly and childlike. This childlike energy isn't like irresponsible or unsophisticated, but more like airhead or bimbo/himbo energy. They are enjoyable to be around and can light up a room. Your fs is really connected to their inner child so if they just seem to have a lot of energy. I am getting they may really like video games, especially competitive ones like Smash, Street Fighters, League of Legends, and stuff like that. Your fs has a strong competitive soul and likes a challenge. I was also seeing painted nails, specially black and pink nails. For some of you, you are going to meet your fs during a partially hard moment in your life, you may be going through a tower moment when you first meet. You and your fs may not be talking right now or for some of you, you may not have met yet. Some of y'all may also want to read Pile 1 if you feel called since I am picking up on some similar energy. I am also hearing for some of you, your fs has a strong connection to cars, they may be a car mechanic or race car driver or something like that. I was also hearing that your fs has absolutely amazing fashion, a sign may be that they tend to wear clothes or colors that really compliment your style. Also, I heard that a sign they are your fs is if you often get shocked when touching them, like those moments when you get a little zapped when you walk on a rug or something (I really don't know how to describe this lol) I feel like if you notice that you are getting zapped by someone often, that may be spirits way of showing you they are your fs. They also may either curse like a sailor or have a very dirty mouth, if you notice they make a lot of suggestive jokes, this may be a sign for y'all. There also may be some people around you saying that this person is a red flag. Now now, this doesn't mean we should ignore red flags, however, if you know someone is judging this person unfairly, for some of you, this is a sign they are your fs. There also may be some difficulty in conversing, they may have a speech impediment, mumble a lot when they talk, or just tend to walk around with a lot of anxiety, and they may seem like they can't stand still.

Advice Cards:

Release unhelpful influences and fears

You are greater than your story

Your spirit wings are unfolding. It is time to take flight!

Learn through reversals. Hold the opposing viewpoint for insight

You are much stronger than you think

Release all that keeps you in the past. Forgive and liberate yourself!

Channeled Songs:

Pile 4 Cards: Judgement rx, Knight of Wands, Nine of Cups, Eight of Wands, Six of Wands, Knight of Cups rx, Three of Cups rx, Queen of Cups Back of the Deck: The Empress

Pile 4, you will know they are fs because they are going to be the most attractive person you have ever seen. With Pile 1, I was getting they are going to find their fs pretty hot, but you my Pile 4? You are going to find your fs absolutely stunning. Like, we have the Empress at the back of the deck and paired with the Nine of Cups, yeah they are beautiful. You have been manifesting these certain traits about a person and using sublimimals, stuff like that to bring your ideal type closer to you and honey, you will succeed. There is also much cup and wands energy so your fs may have a lot of fire and water in their birth chart or I was also picking up that one of you may have heavy water signs in your birth chart and the other has heavy fire signs in their birth charts. For some of you, this person may seem like the complete opposite to you, you may have very different aesthetics and personalities but you know what they say, opposites attract. Your fs comes off with very strong charisma and passion right away. You will notice they have very natural rizz that is so smooth and sexy. For some of y'all, a romantic relationship between the both of you is going to form very early into the relationship. You may never really have a getting to know each other phase of the relationship and really quickly move into the romance. A sign they are your fs is if you feel like you can trust them with anything. You are going to feel a strong sense of safety and loyalty between y'all. Your fs is going to have really balance feminine and masculine energy, but they seem to have especially nutured their feminine side. Also, if you identify as a woman and you are interested in a man, you are going to think yourself "Finally, a man that actually likes women". You are going to think that your person appreciates you and cares deeply for the emotional connection between you two. Your fs is going to check on you often to make sure you are going well physically and mentally. They also have a strong essence of achievement, your fs has achieved a lot in their time and seems very successful.You may also see 444 when you are around them, when you think of them, or before you meet them. I love all of this for your Pile 4.(For thoses of y'all that are Helluva Boss fans, your fs gives me Ozzie vibes which is really everything)

Advice Cards:

Act on what you know

Bring something new into your life

Allow for old memories to come up and be released

The key is in the application. Practice!

Yes, you can . . . Set it in motion!

Make your presence felt

You can manifest your heart's desire

Channeled Songs:

Thanks for tuning in and Happy Halloween for those who celebrate₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆.

[tannieastrology]

Solar Return Observations #2🌻💛

🌼💛Just an update so far, I have a 5th house stellium in my chart this year and life has felt so carefree. Life made me get rid of my old crush and made me focus on myself for a while(Pluto) until just friday I met someone new unexpectedly(Vertex). I havent felt this feeling in almost 3 years its really exhilarating feeling like this and I actually have a good feeling about it. It felt like I was meant to cross paths with him at this point in my life right now because im actually focused on my higher self. I feel that Vertex along with other major planets like the Sun, Mars, Mercury, Pluto, and POF made meeting him feel fated because for one ever since Ive met him ive consequently crossed paths with him multiple times in just the span of 3 days. Its not a deep connection however(5th house) but I hope to beat the odds and make something out of it. So overall, Ive had lots of fun, peace, and new interests in love.

🌼💛So I recently just discovered this, but you can go and find your monthly/daily transit chart and overlap it to your natal or solar return chart to see how your school, career, family, or love life will be. I was wondering why was it that I never got the opportunity to meet someone in matters of romance but i did multiple times in friendships and then I saw that in my transit charts I never had Venus in the 7th house until last month. Venus had always been in like the 11th, the 10th, or the 3rd and school and friends was what was constant in my life. Sometimes even having Venus in the 8th can mean a change in your love life. I even looked all the way through 2022 and 2023 and all 12 months there was not one placement of Venus/Mars/Moon in the 5th or 7th until my transit chart of Febuary 29. Venus conjuncted Mars in the 8th and what happened? I saw the new guy who was exactly my type and I found interest in him. My next transit will be March 30 with Venus, Saturn, and Neptune in the 7th, and Mars conjunct the descendant. Im hoping that things will go well and I can get the courage to talk to him but we'll seeee.

🌼💛Having Jupiter in the 1st just means your whole year will be filled with luck youll just have things fall right into your hands.

🌼💛Uranus in the 9th house is lowkey feeling lost on what path you should take regarding school or just feeling disconnected from school in general. I have this right now and ive been having trouble locking in on my school work and i dont know how i want to plan my schedule for next year. Im just going with the flow atp.

🌼💛Venus in the 4th house means your family will spoil you and make you feel loved.

🌼💛Ok so im not really liking the attention ive been getting from having Lilith exactly conjunct the Ascendant. It feels like every where i go theres been men staring at me creepily and theres this guy on the track team who keeps touching me and crossing my boundries and personal space and it makes me so uncomfortable. Its so grimy and I hate it.

🌼💛Look at the dominant planet and see what house it falls in. Last year i had a dominant planet of moon and it fell in the 12th house conjunct mars. All imma say is that last year was one of the worse but strengthening years for me mentally.

🌼💛Venus in the 9th house means you’ll probably get a chance to travel. I had it in the 4th degree and i went to California from Texas because of a wedding on my moms side.

🌼💛Ive noticed that Vertex in the 5th doesnt always necessarily mean youll meet someone, it just means that youll get a lot of opportunities to go out and have fun.

🌼💛Saturn in the 6th/10th means standing on business.

🌼💛Chiron in the 5th may be a year where you feel burnt out. Make sure to take a break.

🌼💛Moon in libra will beautify a relationship depending on whatever house its in. Ex- first house: your appearance, 3rd: your relationship with siblings, 5th house: with your romantic partners or your inner self. It could also mean you feel romantic this year and could even have more opportunities given to you to express those feelings.

🌼💛7th house Neptune means having dreamy fantasies about people you wanna date. Could have your head in the clouds or you can just have high hopes regarding this area. Could be spiritually calming regarding partnerships but you can be manipulated and gaslighted too if your not careful.

🌼💛Venus in the 10th means being called beautiful all the time during that year. So many strangers used to stop me in the hallways to tell me I was pretty that year.

🌼💛Chiron and Neptune in the 1st means not being able to see your beauty.

🌼💛Venus or Jupiter in the 2nd means splurging on skincare, makeup, and clothes.

🌼💛Having Chiron in the 4th is not fun lol. Could mean family problems, struggling to feel at home when youre at home, and having trouble having a safe space.

🌼💛Leo Ascendant years will make you feel popular.

🌼💛Venus in the 6th could make you follow health, beauty, and workout routines or it could oppositely make you feel lazy and not wanna do anything. It also means feeling comfortable at work or find a interest at work.

🌼💛In 2020 when covid hit I had Saturn in the 5th house and it makes so much sense looking back. We were forced to be isolated and I couldnt go out because of the lockdown. Dont get me wrong though I still had alot of fun with my family but I feel like my middle school experience wouldve been alot different if that hadnt happened.

🌼💛Having a Cancer Ascendant back in 2015 was when my older cousin got married and that was a big event for our family that girl spent almost a 100k on her wedding. She was the first to get married out of the kids in the family. Even having Cancer degrees in the chart will mean change or some significant event in your family life.

Thats all for today hope yall enjoyed:)

[hyunsvngs]

𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 - modern royalty au!lee felix x female reader

wc: 10.6k words

rating: 18+. MDNI

cw: felix and mc being dumbasses, no use of y/n, sickeningly sweet petnames, ANGST, fluff!!, smut warnings under the cut

synopsis: your childhood best friend, the prince lee felix, is due to be betrothed in an arranged marriage organised by his mother. the problem is, you’re her top choice - and you’re also secretly madly in love with him.

a/n: our first fic on the blog!! if anyone has any questions or any thoughts to share with me please feel free. this fic is my baby and i hope you all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it ♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sw: dryhumping, use of petnames in bed, no actual sex!!, soft cutie felix except nsfw!!!!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You'd loved Lee Felix since the day you met him.

Of course, your brain had always convinced you that he was unattainable. You weren't without status, so to speak - your mother was famously known as the Queen's lady-in-waiting, and it was through her job that you'd had the pleasure of meeting the two princes, Felix and his elder brother Chris. You and Felix had clicked instantly. You had no other siblings yourself, and your father had died in the army when you were a baby, leaving your mother widowed and you without one of your intended parental figures.

Felix had taken that all in his stride, though. The day he met you he stumbled up to you with the grace of Bambi's first movement on ice, all short chubby limbs flailing everywhere and eyes formed in crescent moons with the size of his smile. Chris had taken less interest in you. Although polite, he was three years older than the both of you and already had his own group of friends, but you and Felix hadn't even started formal education yet - and you were inseparable as soon as you met. You were enchanted by him, he had been your first crush, and your first love once you were old enough to understand what that was.

You began your life as a shy, timid little girl, just as clumsy as your best friend. Your knobbly knees were always bruised and scarred, peeking out from the tops of your white knee socks and covered in whatever bandages Felix could find to wrap around you. Felix had brought you out of your shell, introduced you to some of his other 'friends' - at the start, they were just kids with similar status to him, but they really did form a tight knit group eventually. Now, you were known to always be by the side of Felix and his group, getting up to whatever secret debauchery you could manage that wouldn't risk any of your positions in society. Your mother, thankfully, had turned a blind eye to most of it, and the Queen was always too occupied to notice.

When you were younger, you and Felix loved to go out gallivanting. You'd stumble to the nearest beach, bags of towels and books in your canvas bags and giggle as you threw them on the sand. You had some form of an unofficial book club, just the two of you. You saw him practically all day everyday, but you'd both discussed and had decided to designate a Saturday afternoon to discuss whatever books you'd found in the extensive palace library and you both avoided any and all kinds of book talk on any other day in the week. The beach had become your place to gush over whatever literature had caught your attention, with the calming waves of the sea crashing behind you and the tweeting of whatever birds had made an appearance that day.

Now, though, you were both of age. You were both twenty one, and that meant that marriage was around the corner for Felix. He'd been so busy lately, you'd barely had the chance to see him. You took upon completing mundane tasks of your own, helping your mother with anything the Queen asked for (much to her polite gratitude, but she definitely knew why you were sulking around), and sometimes you even helped the cooks make food for the whole palace. Felix had teased you relentlessly once he'd seen you in your white frilly apron and you'd had to chase him out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon.

It was weird not having your best friend around so much. Chris was already married, being the heir to the throne, despite the fact there were rumours he would abdicate to Felix. Felix hadn't told you anything about that, and you were sure he would have. Even Chris leaving had left a hole in your heart - no more seeing his muscly eye-candy group of friends around. Well, they still showed up uninvited sometimes. You were pretty sure Changbin and Jisung were never actually invited, not even by Chris, but they lingered around him like they were his little brothers, too.

"Hey, you've been making that daisy chain for like, twenty years," A familiar giggle chimed from above you, and you looked up. Ah yes, your Prince. You'd gotten so lost in memories that you'd been wasting a Saturday afternoon with him. Fuck, you're such an idiot. Felix was looking down at you in your position in his lap, your head nestled on top of his crossed legs in the dress slacks he was supposed to wear everyday. He was wearing a white silk shirt on top of it, billowing in the summer breeze, but the top two buttons were still undone due to the heat of the sun. The summer always made your Prince's freckles shine more on his tan skin, the fawn dots even extending to the exposed skin on his chest. Needless to say, you waited impatiently for the hot season to come around every year. His teeth were gleaming in his smile, radiating sunshine and the gleam bouncing off of the bleach blonde mullet he'd managed to convince his mother to let him have.

You had to deflect. He couldn't know you were upset at not seeing him, although you were nearly certain he must have worked it out already. You shrugged dismissively, looking back at the daisy chain in your hands. Your thumbnails were stained with green from the plant stems, but you were still determined to finish it. You were making it for him, as a crown, because you knew he'd keep it until the flowers wilted, and then he'd get the flowers pressed and he'd put them in his scrapbook. He was such a good friend. His scrapbook was full of mementos of the two of you, even sometimes extending to the whole group - you and Felix, your friends, and Chris and his friends. It was mostly full of just the two of you, though.

"Sorry, Lixie. I guess I'm not all there today. Sorry," You mumbled. "What were you saying?"

"I was saying about Rochester and how he's a possessive asshole- no, you know what, that's not important. What's on your mind, sugarplum?" The cheesy nickname worked exactly how he intended it to, making you giggle and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You nudged his tummy softly with your elbow, the silk brushing against your skin and making goosebumps rise on your arms. Felix dog-eared the page of the book that he was reading from and shut it softly, placing it beside you both. It was one habit of Felix's that you absolutely hated - like, how could he sleep with a clear conscience knowing that he had creased the delicate pages of so many classics? You'd given him so many bookmarks over the years, even personalised ones that you'd crafted in your spare time with both of your names on, but he always lost them or claimed he'd forgotten them in your book club outings. He leaned back on his palms, smiling down at you fondly. You shifted, turning slightly to see him better. You felt the soft cotton of the navy and white plaid picnic blanket brush against the bottom of your bare legs. You weren't really allowed to wear short skirts, or low cut tops, but on a summer's day like this you were permitted to wear a knee length skirt, so long as it was a thick fabric. Nothing too revealing was allowed.

You hummed in response to him, finding him still staring at you. "You want me to be honest, Pixie?"

Felix giggled at his own cheesy nickname, then nodded eagerly, strands of hair falling over his face before he pushed them back. His forehead had a thin sheen of sweat adorning it. "I always want you to be honest with me."

You ignored the butterflies causing a storm in your stomach over the statement. He was so understanding, so sweet - he always had been, like when he would bandage up your scraped knees or comfort you when something went wrong in your favourite TV show. He was even understanding during one of your many nights of debauchery, when you'd all been playing Seven Minutes in Heaven like the horny teenagers you were and you'd been picked to go in with Felix. You'd been bright red, stuttering and giggling nervously about how you'd never had your first kiss and Felix understood, rubbing your arm softly with his dainty hand and insisting you didn't have to do anything that you weren't ready for. You were so embarrassed, but he made you feel so at ease, and you'd both sat in the storage closet and gossiped about Chris instead.

That was the moment you'd fallen in love with him, you think. You were fifteen.

"I'm worried," You admitted, finally letting the flower chain drop from your fingertips and onto your tummy. Felix instantly shot up. His smile had fallen, and he was now looking at you with a concerned look, brushing hair back from your face and tucking it behind your ear. The butterflies started fluttering even faster, if it was possible. You looked up into his brown eyes, and you looked at his freckles, thinking about the many times you'd tried to count every single one. This was your best friend. This was the love of your life. Your Prince, as you affectionately called him in your head. You could be honest with him. If you couldn't, who could you be truthful with? "I'm worried because I know you're getting married soon. We barely see each other as it is anymore, and I miss you, to be honest. It will be soon, won't it?"

Felix hummed. He nodded thoughtfully, eyes drifting to the daisy chain on your tummy. You saw a small smile at the end of his lips as his fingers brushed over it. He knew it was for him. He'd made you many over the years, too, and you'd kept them in your own scrapbook, despite it being much emptier than his. "It will be soon. My mother is picking the right candidate at the moment. But..."

You furrowed your eyebrows. He hadn't looked back at you, still gazing at the daisy chain and beginning to rub reassuring circles on your side. "... But?"

The smile finally formed on his lips. "You do realise you're her top option, right?"

You shot up from his lap, eyes widening. Felix bit his lip, holding in a laugh. He was laughing at you, that bastard, but it did make sense. You were the Queen's favourite, and she knew how close you and Felix were. She wasn't a nasty or a ruthless Queen. She was a people person, she always donated money to charity and the homeless rating in your country was literally almost zero. She'd done so much for people since she was in power, and she never cared about status - not that it had ever affected you, but she did treat everyone as her equals. She was like Felix in that way, a sweetheart, and she always permitted you and Felix to go on journeys wherever you wanted, so long as you kept safe and there was a guard in the area, just in case. There was one in the meadow with you now, but you couldn't even see them from where you were sitting. She was just... so cool, down to earth. She understood what it was like to be young, within reason.

You were flustered. Your brain had instantly gone to thinking of getting married to Felix, spending nights with him but not in the way you used to, and even... Well, you had to consummate the marriage, didn't you? You were extremely inexperienced in that department, save for a few drunken childish kisses with Chris' friend Changbin when you were just a bit younger, but you still found your mind racing and going through your deepest, darkest fantasies. Fantasies that you would never entertain outside of shoving a hand down your underwear in your bed at night and whining into the satin pillows. You had to hide that you were thinking about that, what the fuck is wrong with you? Time to deflect.

"Well, she does love me," You said boldly. Felix shook his head, punching you in the arm, perhaps a bit harder than he meant to because you let out a hiss and punched him back too hard, in the leg. His smile dropped, groaning and grabbing the spot on his shin where you'd hit him. "But, would you be okay with that, Lixie? It's... me. We'd be like... you know."

"Married? Well, yeah," Felix laughed, still holding his leg. You sighed, giving him a flat look. You needed to keep yourself occupied, so you picked up the daisy chain on the blanket and started to fiddle with it again, threading it through with nimble fingers. Felix finally let go of his leg, throwing himself onto his side so he was lying down on the blanket and facing you. He'd started to fiddle with the cover of the book. Another thing you were getting prepared to tell him off about. "I know what you mean. Honestly, though? I can't think of anyone better to do it with," You felt yourself suppressing a smile at his words, said lowly in that deep voice of his. Everytime he said something like that, your brain instantly went to shit, he liked me back, and you couldn't have that showing on your face when you knew deep down that wasn't the truth. He was unattainable- no, wait, now he wasn't that unattainable, now that you've actually stopped being angsty and depressing and actually thought about it. "I mean, you are my best friend, sugarplum."

You let out a fake laugh at his use of that stupid nickname again, and it seemed to placate him. Best friend. Yeah. Because one thing you hadn't thought about during your insane train of thought, one thing you had always considered and had been the main factor in not confessing to him, was that you couldn't risk ruining the friendship you had built up with him for sixteen years.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Unattainable. He was unattainable. You felt yourself mulling over that thought over and over as you paced in your bedchambers, in your silly Disney pyjamas that now barely fit you and you would never let anyone see. You had no one you could even talk to about this. It was clearly royal intel, secret information, and the only person you could have possibly talked to now never comes around anymore because Chris decided to get fucking married and now spends most of his time boning his wife for an heir. Or just because he likes boning her, you weren't sure, but Felix told you that he'd heard enough through the walls to know that boning was definitely occuring every night. Anyway, Changbin wasn't around much anymore, and he was your top confidant - bar Felix.

You liked living in the palace, but would you like living there as a Princess? Well, fuck yeah, obviously. It was like something out of The Princess Diaries, one of your favourite films which you and Felix had watched over and over. He hated it. You had a good, solid reputation. You were a high member of society due to your mother's job, and you and your mother were even placed on the royal side of the palace for your living quarters. You had a massive bedroom, an extravagant en suite with a relaxing bathtub and a sitting room with a huge TV that you and your mother always curled up in front of. How could it even get any better? You had seen Felix's room, when you were younger, but it kind of became unspokenly forbidden when you got to your teenage years, lest something gets out of hand. You understood it, actually. You'd been going through enough hormones to know that you had definitely come dangerously close to propositioning him a few times.

You had propositioned Changbin, obviously. You two had your first kisses together, and also a few drunken kisses, but you'd ended up as just friends. He was probably the only one who knew about your feelings for Felix, and he admitted you weren't his type anyway. You were sure he was in love with Felix's friend, Hyunjin, but you never commented on the way he looked at Hyunjin like he'd hung the stars in the sky. You couldn't really say anything either, knowing full well that you looked at Felix the same.

You needed to speak to Changbin. The unbearable amount of anxiety at not knowing was mounting in you. But it hit you, then, in the middle of your pacing and chewing on your thumbnail. You looked at the copy of Jane Eyre that Felix had given you, placed on your bed. Your mother knew. She had to have known you were a choice, surely, and she hadn't even told you?

You shook your head, resuming pacing. You couldn't blame her. Felix wasn't even meant to tell you. It made sense, though - you'd received pretty much the same education as a royal, and you and Felix were inseparable. You knew you had the etiquette, the social skills (thanks to Felix). You were pretty much a Princess without being a Princess. It had to be you, right?

Did you want it to be you?

You threw yourself onto your bed, wrapping the soft pillow around your head and screaming incoherently into the fabric. It didn't help. Who were the other choices? You thought of other girls who lingered around the palace, ones that had definitely had crushes on your Prince growing up and had given him fleeting glances with blushed cheeks and an agape mouth. None of their names even came to mind. Maybe a Princess from another country, for a marriage of creating alliances? You could see the Queen considering that. She was always very logical, but you also knew she had her son's best interests in mind. Chris had married a Princess from a different Kingdom, actually, but his marriage wasn't even arranged. He'd been in love with her since they were teenagers, and they could only meet once or twice a year in arranged legal meetings. You remember them having perhaps not so quiet dates together. Everyone knew, and when they announced their engagement everyone was happy but not surprised. Felix had taken too long to find a wife, and even the thoughtful Queen couldn't let that slide. People were asking questions, personal questions about his demeanour and whether he was off putting, and she couldn't deflect the questions for much longer.

You hadn't even noticed you'd drifted off, and you woke up to your face still smushed in the pillow. You immediately inhaled sharply upon waking up, taking in the light outside. You'd drooled all over your pillow, leaving a huge wet patch and your hair was knotted every which way, making you look like you'd been dragged backwards down the hedge. Damn. Thinking too hard has taken its toll on you, really.

A knock on the door made you spring up from your bed, smoothing down your hair with one hand, before another three knocks came in succession and you paused your movements. It was yours and your mother's secret knock - one knock, then three quick ones after. She'd seen you in worse states. Much worse states, even hungover states that you'd cried over while she held a bucket to your head and had promised to keep it a secret. You padded over to the door, opening it slightly just to make sure it was in fact, her. It was, obviously. Not even Felix knew your secret knock.

She came in and sat on the big armchair in front of the fire. Neither of you had said anything. You stood awkwardly, wringing your hands. She finally looked at you, a kind look on her face.

"I have two things to say," She smiled. You loosened up a bit, realising that it was just your mother. She'd always been stuck by you. It had been only the two of you, after all. It was all you knew. You nodded, rushing over to sit cross legged in front of her like a child. "First of all, the Queen would like to meet with you in an hour. Second of all, you're seriously still wearing those Dumbo pyjamas? The legs aren't even long enough anymore, I can see your knees, they're meant to be trousers not shorts-"

You blinked owlishly. Her rant went in through one ear and out the other, before she realised you weren't listening. She sighed. You blinked again, pulling the ends of your pyjama trousers absentmindedly to try and make them longer. "The Queen... wants to meet with me?"

Your mother nodded. She wasn't giving anything away by her face, but she definitely knew. She knew. She knew what you were going to be told. God, why couldn't she just ignore her job duties for once and be a fucking mother? You chided yourself mentally, she was a great mother. But you were frustrated. You needed to know now, not in an hour!

"Just... just me, and her?" You questioned, cocking your head to the side. Your mother shook her head, fingernails picking at a loose thread on her skirt. She was avoiding eye contact. What the fuck is going on?

Oh God, it's not you, is it? Fuck.

"Felix will be there," Your mother stated. She jumped up sharply. "I'll help you pick an outfit, dear. Come." She beckoned you to the armoire in the corner and you followed dutifully.

Your mother began to flick through pieces of fabric hanging off of hangers, and you tried to ignore the anxiety now mounting again in the pit of your stomach.

You so badly wanted it to be you. Just for once, you wanted to be selfish.

An hour later, on the dot, you stood outside the main hall. It was where everyone - royalty and staff alike - ate food together. That was, again, one of the kind Queen's rules. It was also where her throne was, where she had meetings with people. You'd never been on the receiving end of such a formal meeting, but one of the Queen's maids had come and collected you from your room five minutes before the allocated time. You'd managed to run a brush through your hair, thank God, and your mother had put you in a baby blue pinafore dress that came down to mid-knee on top of a white long sleeved turtleneck. The turtleneck was far too warm for the weather, but you knew the Queen would appreciate the conservative outfit. You stared down at the Mary Jane's on your feet.

You shut your eyes, trying to control your breathing, before realising you really couldn't afford to be late. Maybe you'd fucked up and done something wrong. You raised your hand, knocking softly on the door, but it swung open with the small force of your knock. The Queen sat on her throne, flipping through the pages of a book. Your Prince stood behind her, leaning over the throne, pointing at certain pages and giggling. She was smiling fondly at the pages, rubbing her fingertips over certain ones and mumbling statements to her son. She'd began to age slightly, with wrinkles adorning her eyes and mouth, but she didn't look any less beautiful. She had long, dark hair and freckles, just like Felix, but her smile was as kind as Chris'.

Oh? They seemed happy, at least.

You cleared your throat. The Queen, her Majesty, looked up at you and smiled acknowledgingly, shutting the book on her lap. She beckoned for you to come in and you did a small curtsy before shuffling into the lavish room. You could smell the kitchen from here, and you knew the cooks were whipping up something fierce by the enticing smell of it. You hadn't had time to have breakfast, because you'd slept in, and lunch was still around two hours away. You hoped your stomach wouldn't grumble too loud as you eventually approached the throne.

Felix smiled at you. He was wearing a similar pair of dress slacks to yesterday, but this time his silk shirt was a baby blue, the Kingdom's colours. A silver chain rested on his neck and you took note of the earrings dangling from his ears - another impulse decision you'd both done when you were younger. You know Felix had gotten in trouble for it at first, but the Queen seemed to be buying him a lot of expensive earrings lately. She knew what it was like to be young, after all. You smiled back awkwardly, rubbing your sweaty hands on your pinafore. It was then you realised you were in the Kingdom's colours too. Very patriotic of your mother.

"You want some tea, sugarplum?" Felix's voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you winced at the nickname. In front of his mother? In front of the Queen? Seriously? Your eyes seemed to convey a similar message to him, a flat glare, but he simply giggled. You saw him pouring from a teapot into a dainty teacup, and reverted your eyes to the Queen. She was still looking down at the book in her lap, and you looked down at it in confusion.

It was the scrapbook Felix made for the two of you. It was full of pictures from when you were younger to now, full of cinema tickets from secret outings and full of pressed flowers. Some of your favourite book quotes had even made it into there, scrawled in both of your handwritings. Even your school graduation pictures were in there. You'd been sent to a private school for the upper society, obviously, but you still had a normal graduation - albeit small, and full of snobby people.

"Thank you for meeting me, your Majesty," You were babbling in awkwardness. Oh, God. It was like word vomit, you couldn't stop it. "I'm really glad to meet with you today. I'm just wondering, have I done something wrong? You never ask to meet me."

The Queen laughed, her eyes forming crescent moons exactly the same as Felix's. Felix appeared at your side then, handing you a small teapot with what looked like peach tea in it. Your favourite, because of course, your Prince remembers that. You awkwardly shifted on one foot to the other, taking small sips of the tea to try and cool your nerves and almost screaming because it was still scalding hot. Felix was trying to hold in a laugh beside you, you could tell without even looking at him. Bastard.

"You haven't done anything wrong, sweetheart," The Queen's voice was soft, and she was now looking at you, taking in your outfit. She nodded approvingly. "You look lovely, very sophisticated. I believe I've made the right choice."

Your cheeks burned red. No. Fucking. Way. "T-The right choice? Do you mean...?"

The Queen beckoned over one of her staff members and they scurried over in a similar manner to the way your mother would have done. They placed a box in her hands, a small black velvet box that looked like it could be opened seamlessly. A... ring box? "I apologise, sweetheart. I've kept you in the dark a little bit with all of this. Would you bring her a chair, dear? A comfortable one."

The staff member scuttled over to grab a small chair with a red pillow on top of it and placed it behind you. You looked to your left side, still in shock, and the staff member simply smiled and motioned to the chair. You muttered a thanks in acknowledgement and sat on the pillow. Damn, the chair was comfortable. Felix was still standing, watching you hold your teacup awkwardly in a sweaty hand. He looked like he was about to die of laughter. God, you hated him so much, but you also really didn't. He just loved to tease you.

Maybe he would in bed, too-

"So, as you probably know, our favourite boy hasn't found someone to court yet," The Queen began speaking once you were sat down. Felix groaned, and his mother simply laughed. "Hush, now, sweetheart."

"Mum, you said you wouldn't be mean-"

Their dynamics always amazed you. She took the piss out of him, to put it quite literally, but in such an eloquent manner it could be easily missed as them having a difficult relationship. They didn't. He was a mummy's boy, through and through. It was one of the things you loved about him. You could tell a lot about a man from the way he treated his mother.

"Felix, hush now," She admonished again, but the smile on her face didn't leave. Felix mumbled something and then went back over to the side to fiddle with the teapots. Good, he should feel awkward. You looked at her outfit, beautiful in an ornate sense, pearl clips pinning her long, dark hair up so you could see the freckles on her face that matched your Prince. "I took it upon myself to find Felix a bride. I hope you don't think I'm cruel for doing so, I do have my baby's best interests in mind."

Felix groaned, putting his face in his hands. "'M not a baby-"

"You always will be to me, sweetheart. But it was time to get you courting, to get you married. I couldn't do that when you're always gallivanting discussing books with this one now, could I?" Your cheeks burned. You started to stutter out an apology, but she held up a hand to stop you. "Nonsense, sweetheart. Your friendship is one I've always admired. You're inseparable, and it is lovely to see you both so happy. You know that I value your mother highly, also."

You nodded, grinning. You felt a bit more at ease at the praise. The tea had also cooled down slightly too, so you started to sip it again, ignoring the way Felix was intently watching you with an evil smile to see if you'd burn your tongue again.

"Then, I thought about it. I thought, well, I do value your mother extremely highly, and you've been very helpful as of late. Obviously, that is because this one isn't taking up all of your time again," She nodded her head towards Felix. It was such an informal motion that you laughed in shock, and she giggled, a chiming similar to Felix's laugh that shouldn't have come from a middle aged woman who was literally the top of society. You still weren't completely getting at what she was saying, but you were enjoying the conversation. It was just praise, praise, praise. Amazing. "So, I want to offer you something. I want you to know you can decline, and you and your mother will remain here in your current roles. It would make me very happy, however, if you agreed to marry Felix."

You blinked. Okay, yeah, you kind of knew that's what she was getting at, but still - coming out of her mouth you thought you were going to have a heart attack. Your eyes flitted to Felix, who was simply nodding at you in encouragement, eyes widened. He... what, had he convinced her with that scrapbook? He wanted to marry you? Ugh, he probably just wanted to marry you so he didn't have to marry someone he didn't know. He doesn't even know you like him like that. But... a little part of you wanted to be selfish. You scratch his back by not letting him marry someone he's not close with, and he scratches yours by at least pretending to be in love with you. Could you deal with that, though? The pretending?

You nodded in acknowledgement at what the Queen said, looking at your tea again. The tea leaves were floating around in the liquid, mocking you, as if saying you were so fucking dumb. Of course you were going to say yes. "Um... may I ask, your Majesty, what would happen if I said no?"

You refused to look at Felix. The Queen hummed, looking down at the box in her lap. Oh, that was a ring box, definitely. Funny, in a weird way. "Well, this way, if you got married, you'd be able to spend a lot of time together. You'd see each other a lot. You'd be happy. If you decline... I'd have to find someone else for him to-"

"I'll do it," You grimaced at cutting the Queen off, but you couldn't even bear to think of him with someone else. Instead of chiding you, she beamed from ear to ear, and Felix rushed over to you.

He leaned down, wrapping his arms around you and leaning in for a hug. He felt so soft, all silk and soft skin, but you knew what was underneath that shirt. You'd seen it, and now you were definitely going to see everything else. He smelled of lavender and orange blossom, that expensive perfume he's always spraying on himself, but you could smell notes of the flowers in the meadow that were still left on his skin from yesterday.

Okay, yeah, you could get used to this.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You didn't get a proper engagement, but that was alright. You'd been given the ring pretty much straight away after your meeting, and when you'd got back to your room after lunch your mother was still there, but now she was gushing, almost bouncing off the walls.

The ring was beautiful. Even using that adjective felt like an understatement. It was clearly an heirloom, passed through generations. The gem in the middle was blue tourmaline, and whilst it matched the Kingdom's colour it was extremely rare - or so you thought, you weren't sure - and it was surrounded by a cluster of diamonds and placed on a thin gold band. You'd always dreamed of getting engaged, even letting yourself think about getting engaged to Felix sometimes, when you were feeling particularly selfish. You always thought it would happen on the meadow, or on your guys' beach that you'd had less time to go to these days because it was further out. You didn't think you wanted it to be pretty lavish, just you two, so you weren't that angry about just being given the ring and told to prepare for an outing with Felix later on. He was your safe place, and you did want to talk privately about the engagement, so you weren't too angry.

You thought about it a lot, looking down at the gem glinting in the light. Your mother had left, and you were now just sitting at your vanity staring at your own hand. The public knew who you were. They knew you were Prince Felix's best friend, and more than a few people had deemed you two as soulmates, people from a similar status who were bound to fall in love and get married. Now, it just felt very one sided. You knew you were in love with Felix, and you'd agreed to the marriage with little thought, but now you felt a bit anxious. How were you going to pretend not to love him when you had to sleep next to him every night? Or when you had to go on dates with him? The engagement would be formally announced tomorrow, with the outing tonight being specifically for you to wear the ring in the public's eye and for you two to dial up the romance and get people speculating. The engagement party was planned to take place tomorrow night after the announcement, with everyone important there.

It was a beautiful ring. You just weren't sure you could pretend any more. You were sick of pretending to just view him as a friend.

When the night rolled by, you'd dressed in something a bit cosier - not too warm, because the nights weren't getting cold much anymore. You'd switched your pinafore and long sleeve for a thin knitted jumper and some long linen trousers, throwing a long but light jacket on top. You had to look sophisticated, respectful even. You deemed you looked alright after tucking the jumper into the trousers and adorning a belt, and when you swung the door open to your room, Felix was stood there.

He'd also put on a thin jumper in lieu of his thin billowing silk shirts, but he still looked just as good in the blue cable knit staring you in the eyes. He'd even put on a long coat just like yours. It was like you were matching, but you hadn't intended to. You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and you swore you'd never seen him look happier, not even when you'd moan in delight eating his homemade brownies or when you'd go sick after eating too many of said brownies because they were too good. His hair was neatly styled, pulled back in a stylish half up-half down ponytail, with a few strands dangling in his face.

"Hey, sugarplum," He spoke, voice low. You groaned, pushing him out of the doorway and leaving the room, shutting the door behind you. He laughed in delight at your annoyance and linked arms with you. It was then you noticed he had a flower in his hand - just one stem, but the meaning was enough to almost make you cry.

"Oh my God, Felix, is that-"

"Baby's breath," He unlinked his arm with you, passing the stem to you. When you two were younger, you'd been entranced by the baby's breath growing in your meadow and you'd both been determined it was the work of fairies. It was too beautiful to be normal, and you and Felix had collected them endlessly until there was basically none left. You called them fairy flowers, and that's sort of where Felix's nickname had come from - your mother had called him Pixie affectionately when he'd revealed that he really thought these flowers were part of a fairy's little garden. He pretended to hate it, but you know he secretly loved it when you called him that. Chris had told you.

"You remembered. We used to call them fairy flowers," You brushed your hand over the flower, grinning at the softness. Felix chuckled, whispering a 'yeah'. He quickly pinched the flower from you again, tucking it behind your ear. You quite literally swooned, smiling up at his own beaming face. It got a bit awkward for you then though, because you couldn't even pretend not to be in love with him now, before you're even married. You found yourself in a state of word vomit again. "Jeez, dial down the PDA, Romeo. We're not even outside yet."

You walked off, leaving Felix trailing after you laughing at your words. "'Jeez'? What are you, a frat boy? You need to stop reading fanfictions, you know," He slung his arm around your waist, leading you out of the palace grounds. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him, but you leaned in closer to his touch. Tonight was meant to just be a late night walk, full of holding hands and perhaps acting like normal people getting some street food from a dodgy merchant that would give you a bad tummy for a few days. Once you'd left the ornate gates, with one of the guards waving you both goodbye, you started to walk down the street and into the busier part of town. The palace wasn't too far from the hustle and bustle of the city, because again, the Queen apparently loved to be normal. People came to the palace all the time and took pictures and whatnot, but they were never allowed into the actual building. That was too far, and a danger to security.

You both began to walk, feeling the much cooler breeze blow through your hair and rattle the petals upon your ear. It was a bit ticklish, but he'd put it there, so it was staying there. His arm stayed around your waist, but it was comforting. You'd done stuff like this a million times. You were both extremely affectionate and loved touch anyway, so it wasn't strange. Of course, it felt different. You were engaged to him now. You could like... kiss, and stuff. You felt like a high school girl kicking her legs and twirling her hair over her crush, but you decided you were going to allow it because you were still young, and still yet to have a lot of your firsts with someone.

Once you got to a street where there were a few people milling around, Felix motioned to a wooden bench on the side of the path. Overgrown moss and bushes wrapped around it, but it still looked quite cute. "Wanna sit down here for a bit? I think we should probably have a chat, you know. About everything," When you looked at him, he looked embarrassed for once, strange given his usual brazen nature. You found yourself wanting to comfort him, so you nodded, sitting down on the bench and smoothing your trousers down. He sat next to you, turning to face you on the bench and fiddling with the cuffs of his coat.

"Felix, are you okay about marrying me?" You blurted out. "I mean, I know you probably don't want to marry anyone else, but you won't even get the chance to try to get to know everyone. You're stuck with me."

Felix furrowed his eyebrows. His head snapped up to you. "Um, what the fuck? You're my best friend. I am absolutely okay with getting married to you."

Your chest heaved. You felt reassured, but still not completely relieved. "But... Lixie. We'll have to kiss. And we'll be sharing a bed. You know we have to consummate the marriage, right?"

There was that smirk on his face again. You regretted ever saying anything. "You've been thinking about having sex with me?"

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. You heard Felix chuckling next to you, his shoulders shaking the whole rickety bench. You finally looked up at him, punching him in the leg again. His laughter ceased as he yelped. Good, bastard. "You know what I mean, Lix. We are literally going to have to, or the marriage won't be like, real. Or something, I don't know."

"You do know, you know everything. You're smarter than me," Felix chided you. He sighed, leaning to put his head on your shoulder. "What are you actually worried about? Tell me."

"It's just..." You couldn't say it. But maybe you could, and phrase it differently. A conditional question, to answer the real question inside of you. "What if we fell in love?"

Felix hummed, shutting his eyes softly. "Then everyone would have been right about us."

"Y-You... you wouldn't mind it? What about our friendship?"

He rubbed his cheek against you comfortingly. "It would only be made better, sugarplum," He pulled back, grinning at you. Oh no. That smile meant a Dumb Felix comment was incoming. "Plus, I know you think I'm smoking hot, so-"

"Felix!" You whined. He stuck his tongue out at you cheekily, making you roll your eyes. You turned away from him, staring ahead at a large tree on the other side of the path.

"I mean, we are compatible. Would it be so bad?" He sounded insecure now. You looked at him. His eyes were gleaming from the moonlight, and he did look really nervous. Perhaps... he wants to know if you'd hate him if either of you caught feelings. He wants to know if you think it would ruin your friendship. Honestly? After that conversation, you didn't. You shook your head, smiling softly at him. He stuck his tongue out again, trying to lighten the mood, and you did it back. You both had a fit of giggles afterwards, hitting each other while laughing like you always do.

Then, you saw it. A distinctive flash of a camera behind Felix, towards the end of the path. Oh, yeah, you're meant to be like, loving it up right now. You grabbed Felix's arm, pulling him in.

"Wh- wha-"

You brought his ear to your mouth, looking down at it and whispering. "There's a reporter taking pictures behind you. Don't look, but we should probably be more affectionate."

Felix pulled away, nodding solemnly. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head as he spoke, then a lightbulb going off. "Kiss me."

"H- Huh?!"

"Or, I'll kiss you, I don't mind. But that would really prove a point, wouldn't it? So caught up in each other that we forget royal etiquette?" He'd leaned back more comfortably on the bench, slinging an arm behind you. His fingertips were dancing up your shoulder as you were turned to face him, faces only inches apart. You licked your lips. He licked his own. The flash appeared again. Oh, the reporter liked that.

"Felix... I don't know-"

"I know it's not your first kiss, sugarplum. Can't back out of kissing me now," You internally groaned at the mention of him knowing what you and Changbin had done. Fuck Changbin, stupid blabbermouth. Felix was smirking, looking at you.

"Fuck it. As long as it won't be awkward?"

"We're gonna have to kiss a lot more, may as well kiss now," He shrugged. You shrugged. He was right. Eventually, you nodded. His fingertips carried on tracing shapes on your shoulder - you managed to make out a flower, a heart, maybe even a cat's head. Or a dog's head, you weren't sure. His other hand went up to your chin, fingertips coming to lift your head up to be closer to him once again. His eyes went to yours, a silent question in those deep brown eyes, and you nodded in response.

With that, you were being kissed by your first love. Your one sided love, to be precise, but you actually couldn't find it in you to care. You didn't even realise the camera flashing repeatedly as you pressed your lips against his, a chaste but open mouthed kiss. His lips were extremely soft, and you fluttered your eyes shut and leaned in to get more. He obliged, hand now going to the back of your head to bring you in further. You whimpered at the dominance the grab showed, and he let out a sharp breath of air through his freckled nose in response. You wanted more, so much more. Your lips pressed against each other over and over, a little messy but you liked it like that. Just as you tried to get your tongue against his, he gently pulled away, with one more small peck to your nose.

You were embarrassed when you realised you'd tried to follow him for more kisses. You quickly avoided eye contact, and Felix elbowed you.

"Look at me!" He whined for attention. Ah yeah, same old Felix. You'd forgotten what he was like in that ten second kiss. He still had issues with wanting to be the centre of attention. You looked at him awkwardly, fists clenched in your sweaty palms. You almost felt bad the beautiful ring had to live there. Once you'd looked at him, his sad face fell and he smirked. "Good, huh?"

"W-Was I... good? I've only ever kissed Changbin," You admitted, grimacing. Felix sat up sharply, putting a hand on your knee. You almost flinched away to try and sedate your own sexual desires, but he would get suspicious.

"Uhhh, yes! It was good, I really enjoyed that. Thank you for doing that for me," Felix comforted. When you nodded in response, he grabbed your chin again and placed another peck on your lips. "I... honestly? I kind of wouldn't mind kissing you again."

The boy's boldness shocked you everyday, and you'd known him for sixteen years. "For... for practice, right? When we're married, we're gonna have to do it loads, so-"

"Yeah, yeah, one hundred percent. For practice," Felix agreed. He was nodding eagerly. He suddenly shifted, looking down at the watch on his wrist. "Aw, shit. We should probably head back. Wanna watch a film in your room when we get back?"

You grinned. Back to the same old. This was better, though now you knew you'd be thinking about being on your back with him on top of you making out while you were watching a film. Quickly, you realised something. "That will look so sus though, now that we're engaged."

"We'll keep it a secret," He wiggled, elbowing you. You found yourself laughing, jumping up to walk back to the palace. You held your outstretched hand to him.

"Your majesty?"

"Ah, yes, my fine maiden," Felix giggled, sliding off the bench to grab your hand. You both started to walk to the edge of the path, skipping along as if you had no cares in the world. You heard rustling, probably the sounds of the reporter leaving.

You hoped you'd done okay. You hoped you'd made it believable. Well, you probably had, given your actual feelings - but had Felix?

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You'd woken up the next day with a piece of popcorn stuck to your forehead and another person snoring next to you. You blinked yourself awake drearily, leaning up on your palms and looking around your room. Your TV had turned onto standby, and you looked to your right. Felix was in your room. Felix was in your bed. You'd- oh, no. You'd totally just fallen asleep watching a movie, nevermind. Totally fine.

No, actually. Totally not fine!

You shrieked, grabbing Felix's slender waist and wiggling him awake. He'd borrowed a pair of your more comfortable clothes and the t-shirt had been just a bit too small, riding up with every move and now exposing nearly his whole tummy. You tried to ignore it, continuing to shake him awake. The piece of popcorn stuck to your forehead fell onto the bed with an unceremonious noise and you groaned. Eventually, after what felt like hours of shaking your best friend, he opened his eyes and gave you a wide smile, pulling you in for a cuddle. You ignored how lovely it felt and tried to get him to regain consciousness and morality.

"Felix."

"Hmm?"

"You are in my bed."

"I know, dummy- Oh." Felix shot up, nearly sending you flying off the bed. His hand landed on the piece of popcorn, crumbling it into your pristine white sheets. You tried not to cry. His eyes widened, staring at you. "What's the- have you checked your phone? What's the time?"

You shook your head, reaching over to grab your phone. You seldom went on your phone, preferring to read and spend time with Felix, but you had it in case of emergencies and also sometimes for TikTok, but you'd never admit that. You blinked. 11am.

You'd missed breakfast, but you also had zero missed calls or texts on your phone. No one had woken you? Weird. You flipped the screen to show Felix, and he leaned in closer. You were brandishing your wallpaper of the two of you on the beach last summer, but you didn't care. He grabbed your phone, entered your passcode and clicked on the phone app.

"No one even tried to wake us?" He asked. You shook your head. He laid back down, seeming weirdly reassured. You didn't question it, slinking up next to him and putting your head on his shoulder. He moved his arm accordingly, pulling you into his chest and still clicking random buttons on your phone. Eventually, he landed on the search tab, and typed in 'news'. Oh, shit. Was it announced?

Yep. In blaring headlines, multiple news media sources were now releasing reports with every single detail of the story, including pictures of the two of you last night. The titles were all similar, going along the lines of "the sweet Prince and beloved best friend confirmed to be engaged!" or "sophisticated best friend and the lovely Prince taking a romantic late night stroll!". You scoffed, clicking on one and scrolling down. The pictures were cute, to be honest. Some even showed the two of you laughing and hitting each other last night, or you two walking home hand in hand and skipping as if you were kids. One picture, however, is what stuck with you. It was the two of you mid-kiss, Felix's hand on the back of your head and his other holding your shoulder, keeping you in place. It was fucking hot.

"Damn, we look good, you know?" Felix mused, zooming in on the picture. You hummed. You did, you couldn't deny that. "My mum was so real for thinking of us getting married. Like, we totally look good together. Imagine our kids."

Imagine what we'll do to make kids, you thought, but you bit your tongue. You giggled, slapping Felix's chest playfully, then a thought came into your stupid lizard brain. "Hey, Lix?"

"Yeah?" He was still scrolling through an article, laughing at some of the sentences. Everyone loved the two of you, but a few were jealous that you'd managed to snag him. Good.

"Did you mean what you said last night? About practice?" Felix's thumb stopped on the screen. His eyes darted to you, his hair still mussed from sleep. He just stared at you, and you lost your nerve. "Sorry. Weird thing to say. I was just wondering-"

"No, not weird. I meant it. You wanna make out? For practice?" Felix locked your phone, chucking it to the end of the bed. You didn't have time to scold him for throwing your things around like that before his hand was carding in your hair, fingertips scratching at your scalp. God, you loved it when he did that. Your eyes shut in bliss. You totally forgot what he asked. "Hey, earth to sugarplum."

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Sure. For practice."

Okay, so you were totally being super selfish. But, you were going to be having sex with him soon. You could do a little making out to prepare, right? You were just a woman, after all. Nothing wrong with that. His fingers gripped your hair with a different intensity then, pulling at the strands slightly, and you choked back a whine. You opened your eyes, looking up at him.

He hummed, looking at you. He tilted his head to the side, thinking. "Maybe... yeah," He grabbed your arm, pulling you over him. He positioned you exactly how he wanted you, on top of him, straddling his hips. His dainty hands went to your waist, rubbing circles. "Yeah, like this. For practice."

"For practice," You agreed solemnly. You were beginning to think that maybe it wasn't for practice. Maybe he just wanted to. He scooted up, leaning up against the pillows so he was sat up and you were sat on top of him. You tried to ignore the fact that you could feel what was going on between his legs through your thin sleep shorts. You couldn't get too wound up during this, just in case it was just for practice. Knotting your hands into the fabric of his - your - white t-shirt, you leaned down, brushing your nose with his. You were being selfish, but bold, but mostly selfish.

Felix's eyes flitted down to your lips, leaning up to place a soft kiss there. You smiled softly, and he returned yours with a smile that could only be described as filled with fondness. You bit your lip, noticing the way his eyes honed in on your teeth and perhaps his grip tightened on your hips just a bit, but he'd always deny it.

"Lixie." You muttered. You were too shy. He knew exactly what you meant, and raised one hand up to grab at the back of your head. He brought your lips to his, attaching his mouth to yours in a way that was completely different from yesterday. Yesterday was for show, but this seemed personal, hungry almost. You decided you were going to take what you could get. You pressed your lips to his harder, making him choke out a noise of surprise. It was messy, again, open mouthed kisses that were nothing akin to precise or experienced, but you could get to know each other, get to know what you liked. Right at that moment, all you knew was that you liked him, and you would be so pissed off if he didn't let you get your tongue in his mouth like he did last night.

Your hands went up to his face, cradling his cheeks in your palms and slipping your tongue into his mouth. Your tongues brushed against each other, and you whined, hips kicking up just slightly before you managed to stop yourself. He grabbed your hips, flipping you over so he was on top of you, not breaking the kiss. His lips kept brushing against yours as his tongue entered your mouth, groaning at the feeling. You couldn't stop breathing heavily through your nose, your hands roaming up his back and landing on his hair, pulling him down to kiss you harder. Your lips felt bruised, swollen, but you never wanted to stop kissing him.

With that thought, he bit your lip, pulling away and letting it release against your teeth. You squirmed, licking your lips excessively to try and stop them feeling so swollen. Felix looked debauched, his hair even more tangled and his lips just as red and swollen as yours. His eyes were dark, staring down at you.

"Baby. Bestie. I'm sorry, but I'm- I'm sorry..." He whispered, his head going to the crook of your neck to place soothing kisses there. He was breathing heavily, shifting ever so slightly on top of you. You felt it then, what he was apologising for. His length was rock hard, the shaft pressing into your core and giving you just the slightest bit of stimulation. "'M so fucking hard, sugarplum, I'm sorry."

"I-It's okay, Lixie. I think I'm... I'm wet, too," You whispered, and he threw his head back, groaning. "Practice makes perfect, y'know. We can keep making out." Felix nodded eagerly, and he grabbed your thighs, linking them around his hips. He ducked to place a few more kisses on your neck, biting a little at the area where your throat met your jaw. You let out a moan, neck bearing to the opposite side to give him full access and he clearly approved, biting harder.

"Baby, c-can I just," He ground his hips into yours, groaning and stuttering his words out. He immediately stopped, looking down at you. "Can I? I can make us both feel good, no sex. We can just grind a little on eachother. I won't put it in, I promise-"

With that, a knock on the door interrupted you both. You were fully prepared to start swinging at whoever was on the other end. Felix looked like he was about to die, cheeks flushed and hair tangled every which way. You both stared at each other in disbelief. Okay, so you had kind of really lost yourself there, and now somebody is at the door while the nation's favourite Prince is currently on top of you grinding into you with full intent to cum. You'd only just announced your engagement. You could've got pregnant before you even got married. Jesus, what is wrong with you? You sighed, moving to sit up, and Felix moved off of you. He ran a hand through his knotted hair.

"I should... fuck, Felix, what do we do?" You knew you both looked the image of lust, lips kiss bitten and swollen and hair everywhere. You could even feel the wet patch in your sleep shorts. Shit, okay.

Felix looked to be holding back a laugh. You felt terrified, but you almost laughed too, in pure disbelief. You both covered your mouths before you shot off the bed, slipping your shorts off your legs and replacing them with a pair of longer trousers from your drawer. You honestly couldn't care less if he'd seen you in your underwear, you'd bathed together when you were younger. You motioned to the en suite dramatically and Felix ran in there instantly, still giggling quietly, locking the door behind him. You shook your head fondly as another knock was firmly punched against the door. Jesus, couldn't even give you a second?

"Coming!" You called, walking over to the door and trying your best to fake yawn loudly so they thought you'd just woken up. When you opened the door, Chris stood there, a happy smile on his face.

"Okay, I'm so coming in! Why didn't you tell me you and Felix are serious now?" He pushed you back into the room, throwing himself onto your bed dramatically. It was quite funny, seeing him lying on the bed you'd just accosted his brother on. He was resting against the messy sheets in a perfect suit and tie. You shook your head, letting out a laugh.

"Okay, we're not. It's an arranged thing, Chris. We're still only best friends," You chose your words wisely, fiddling with the drawstring on your trousers. Chris hummed, giving you a strange look. Changbin. Fucking Changbin, he'd definitely said something. God. "And, why didn't you ask your own brother this? I'm simply an accessory."

"Because my own brother is currently locked inside your bathroom pretending he's not there?" Chris replied instantly. Your eyes widened.

"No, he's not. Why would you even think-"

"Okay, well. I know he is, so," Chris shrugged. You sighed.

"Felix, you can come out," You said. The lock slowly clicked open and Felix emerged, looking sheepish. Thank God the shock of Chris arriving had made his boner go down, so now he didn't look too lustful. He'd also clearly ran your brush through his hair before coming out. You couldn't say the same for yourself.

Felix threw himself down on the bed next to you and Chris, groaning and stretching his limbs. "Did anyone ask where we were?"

Chris chuckled. He fiddled with the wedding band on his left hand. "Yep. I made up an excuse, said you'd gone out for a walk again and were getting food out. I had a feeling you'd both be spending the night together. Princess Diaries again?"

You shook your head. "Nope. It's too real now."

"Mind you, I don't think there was this much 'practising' going on between Mia and her potential husband in the second one," Chris looked up from his hand. You averted your eyes.

"Dunno what you mean-"

"How much did you hear, what the fuck?!" Felix shrieked. Oh, great, thanks.

"I mean, the walls are thin, dude. I heard a lot on my way down the corridor. But, I'm glad you two are having fun with it, at least. Arranged marriages can be shit sometimes," Chris stretched similarly to Felix, before reaching down and clapping Felix on his back harshly. Felix groaned, throwing himself around the bed in protest. "Anyway, I should be off now. Congratulations again, guys. You should probably get ready for the party tonight though."

Chris began to walk out of the room, and Felix stood up.

"I should... go. With him. You know?" You nodded in response to his statement. He waited until Chris had rounded the corner, and leaned down, pressing a swift peck to your lips. You squeaked in surprise, cheeks burning crimson. He giggled, giving you a sweet wave and running off. "See you later, bestie!"

You wondered if you’d ever be permitted to drop the bestie, maybe once you’re married to him, but it couldn’t come soon enough. You wanted to let yourself be selfish just this once.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[fuckmycrane]

Moon — Thomas Shelby.

— CW: 18+!, smut. breeding kink, (slight) housewife kink, mentions of kidnaping. Age gap. | word count: 1.7k. (not proofread!)

— a/n: I have no clue from where this came from. I'm not in the best mindset and this happened. This is also my first time writing for Tommy so don't hate me lol. This isn't canon compliant ig because I don't want it to be. I just want him so bad it's not even funny.

Vulnerability. 

It was a word he never thought he’d truly understand the meaning of. 

It was always meant to be a secret. Why? Because good things don’t last long— not for him. Never for him. 

And every time he is away from you, it is a constant heartache that not even the strongest alcohol or an insane amount of tobacco could ease. He wishes he could steal the moon from the dark skies of Birmingham and hand it to you, he knows how much you love the moon. Night after night, he raises his head to stare at it for hours, wondering where are you, if you are thinking about him as much as he is thinking of you.

Wondering if you love him as much as he loves you.

Love. Such a funny word. A meaning both so full and so empty.

He wishes he could steal you. 

He knows how much he loves you.

It is always better to be safe than sorry— that’s why he secluded you, and you understood. Perhaps it was the naivety granted by your young age, or maybe it was your blind love for a man who was doomed since the day he was born. Whatever it was, it kept both of your hearts attached, beating as one; watching the same moon.

He counts the days, the hours, and sometimes even the minutes; he is a smart man, he knows where you are and with whom, he knows what dress you wore and who you talked to. And he does it for love. Or even obsession. A strange urge that creeps into him every night when he thinks of you after a long day of work— an urge to be loved. He counts the days, the hours, and sometimes even the minutes until he is able to see you again. To hide under that perfect, warm blanket that is your arms, your kisses, your body. 

In front of your front door, he knocks even though he knows the door is open. He has guards on every corner, eyes on every window. He already lost too many precious things in his life. He can’t afford to lose you. He built you a house, a paradise for you to enjoy, cherish and take care of. He gave you everything you could ask for, even more. Growing up, you never experienced the same deficiencies and struggles he did, you never had to lift a single finger and that’s alright for him. Because on those days when he feels powerless and exhausted, he knows he can always ride back home, and regain that power by standing next to you. 

Home. Home. Home.

“Tommy!” The squeak of excitement makes the long trip worth it. Everything is worth it if it comes to you.

He hugs you, keeping you tight against his chest wishing he could stay that way forever, basking in your delicate soul, your selfless heart. Thomas calls your name in an affectionate way that no one could evoke in such a genuine way. He kisses you with such passion that makes your blood boil and your heart flutter.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, ignoring how his mind scolds him for the hint of vulnerability that laces his voice. 

Placing your hands over your stomach, his body tenses at the small bump underneath your expensive, tailored dress. “We feel good, we missed you— I missed you” You reply with adoration. He is finally here.

“I’m here,” He says as if you needed confirmation that he is in fact in front of you. 

“How is everyone?” 

“Good” He places a large hand over your stomach, rubbing it with his palm. “Ada keeps asking me when I will bring you back to Small Heath”

“And when will that be?” Your question gives him a pang of guilt. He wishes he could have an answer, his face says it all. “It’s alright, love. I understand things are… difficult”

“Enough about that” He breathes, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He wants the distraction, he wants the warmth, he wants you. “I’m here to see my wife, not to talk about work”

With a giggle, you kiss him. “Fine. Whatever you want”

And he loves that. He loves how willing to please you are. He loves how you let him guide you upstairs, undress you, and adore you. Thomas’ hands caress the small bump in your stomach as he carefully lifts his hips to thrust deeper, enjoying every small moan and gasp. Normally he isn’t this gentle, but he will never harm you or your baby. With his occasional grunts and pants, he grabs your thighs, increasing his pace. Watching you bounce on top of him is a heavenly sight and is in these moments when he is sure you are an angel sent from heaven from him. He might not believe in God but whatever exists in this cruel world granted him with a Goddess.

“I m–missed you” You moan digging your nails into the pale skin of his shoulders. “I missed you s–so much”

That damn wave of vulnerability washes over him, the bed creaks with your combined weight, creating a delicious, sinful melody that he evokes on those nights when he is too desperate for your body and has to find relief in his own hands. 

His large hands cup your breasts, paying attention to your swollen, sensitive nipples. Thomas pinches them gently watching you tremble. He can already imagine them full and heavy, ready to take care of the baby that you are expecting— his baby. A louder groan falls down his lips at the thought. Such a wonderful mother you will be. Such a perfect, precious housewife. 

Such an angel sent from heaven.

“I love how you look” He confesses in a husky fashion, bouncing your tits in his calloused palms. “I can’t wait to see you— to see you all round and heavy with my baby”

His words send a shiver down your spine, clenching around him and making Thomas hiss from the raw pleasure of your tight pussy. “Please— don’t stop”

“I wasn’t plannin’ on, doll”

Thomas dares to increase the pace, using one hand to grope your ass to keep balance. Your moans also increase in volume, igniting the primal desire to claim you inside of him. “You are so fucking tight— I will fucking pump another baby into you as soon as you have this one”

You nod fervently, closing your eyes and scratching his chest. “Yes! I’ll have as many as you want Tommy— anything you want! Anything”

The loyalty he so loves. 

His lust wins over his composure for a moment, landing a sharp slap over your asscheek that makes you whine and clench again causing him to grit his teeth. He is aware of how much you adore it when he is rough with you, he thrives on the submission you gave him since day one. Unable to help himself, your husband slaps your ass repeatedly, relishing the cries of pleasure that call him like a siren to a poor, lost sailor. 

“Say you are mine” He grunts after another hard slap. He isn’t going to last any longer. Not with such a breathtaking view. 

“I belong to you!” You comply instantly. “I am y–yours! I’ve always been” He knows you are telling the truth. That’s why he had to take you away from your home, to manipulate you in order to give up your last name, to cast you under his spell— that’s why he had to have you since he first landed eyes on you. 

But at the end of the day, he was the one wrapped around your finger.

He is the one wrapped around the velvety, soft walls of your cunt, squeezing him for dear life and silently begging him to breed you, use you, claim you…

Love you.

With a strained cry, you come around him. He could watch you unravel on top of him for hours— in fact, he has.  Your movements were slow, deliberate, and intense. He could feel his breath hitch as you moved, and his heart raced as you arrived at your climax. His gaze was unwavering as he watched you ride out the waves of your pleasure. Thomas followed you seconds after, moaning your name under his breath; he fills you up just the way you both adore, it’s evident that when the hours pass, time is the only thing left to waste. Panting above him, he carefully settles you next to him, spooning you and keeping his softening cock inside of you. This is how he wants to end every day, to wake up every morning. 

Kissing your sweaty neck, he breathes you in, memorizing your scent once again. He knows his time with you is limited before someone notices his absence and begins to track him. Thomas needs to be two steps ahead of anyone. Your soft giggles make him smile, a genuine smile that feels so foreign to him. Under the darkness of your bedroom, his hands caress your hot skin, providing you with the heat and care he knows you crave. 

“I love you” You whisper, closing your eyes and falling asleep rather quickly. He listens to your heavy breathing, peaceful and unbothered; and that’s how he wishes it could stay forever. Away from worries, stress, fear. 

“I love you, more than you can imagine” He musters, hiding his face on the crook of your neck.

It’s true. Because love is such a funny word that gives him such a funny feeling. 

A warm, fuzzy feeling.

He opens his eyes, raising his head to look at the windows. The curtains are wide open, the weak glow of the full moon casting a divine glow over your naked body. His lips land on your shoulder, allowing the sensation to wash over him. It's a moment of peace and serenity, a moment in time that will never be forgotten. A moment he doesn’t want to end. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he will bring you back where you belong. It doesn’t matter the consequences, it doesn’t matter if the whole world finds out Thomas Shelby was the one who kidnaped Jack Nelson’s younger sister. As long as he has you, he is alive.

And he swears it to the moon.

[ataraxiaspainting]

O Fatale Imperium, O Fortuna!

Part I of III - Power and Control.

Yan Sunday x F Reader.

Synopsis: At the heart of what used to be a town, your fellow villagers wait on their knees to be blessed by a kind stranger.

Warnings: Yandere themes, non-consensual body transformation, religious themes because it’s Sunday, unhealthy relationships, major spoilers for the main Penacony quest in Honkai Star Rail, manipulation, descriptions of poverty, descriptions of physical illnesses, minor character deaths, and drugging.

Word Count: 3k.

shoutout to my friend @harmonysanreads for proofreading some of it! i really appreciate her and all the stuff she writes so please check her out! <3

*~*~*~*

"Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ets. Te decet hymnus, Deus, in Sion, et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem. Exaudi orationem meam, ad te omnis caro veniet. Requiem aeternam dona ets, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat ets."

- Introitus, Mozart's Requiem.

*~*~*~*

Jenovath, the planet of three truths – the closest neighbor of Penacony, the planet of dreams. Two moons rotate in a clockwise motion while the other two move in the opposite direction. The youngests, Jenova Nativitas and Jenova Vita, have almost always been a fated pair – one gifts humanity with vegetation while the other gifts them with life in other forms. Both have always been honored within your village – the most famous example being a large statue of the goddess Jenova at its center holding them in her gentle hands – unlike the other two planetoids. 

Jenova Mortem and Jenova Copulatio; both unwelcome gifts from Jenova’s son a millennium ago.

In your childhood, you remember the sun’s warmth atop your skin as you explored the forests around your village. Now Jenova Morteum and Jenova Copulatio have combined into one, and now this planet’s source of light is gone.

The plants died first. The herbivores next. The carnivores around the same time. There are no more blessings from Jenova Nativitas or Jenova Vita, only curses in the form of disease and disorder. Black coils inhabit the bodies of the older generations, the same ones who were cursed by their goddess’ envious only child.

The younger generation is left fighting for the scraps of a world forgotten by the rest of the universe. You may be older than some of them – you have no clue how people still have kids in times like this – but in reality, you’re just as lost. You’re just as clueless when it comes to begging whatever few travelers are left for necessities, and you’ll probably die soon just like everyone else who has come before you.

“Such unnecessary pain.” The stranger murmurs, kneeling to you. You don’t look anywhere aside from the makeshift knife in your hands. Your palms bleed since the handle is non-existent. After all, it is just a piece of glass you managed to take off of another abandoned lodge cabin meant for visitors.

The robe on his head does little to hide his real appearance. Golden eyes, a face as pale as sand, and what looks to be two halovian wings blending in with his gray hair.

Your body isn’t as damaged as the other people nestled in this part of the town – while you only have small black markings on the back of your neck going down to your midriff, most of the others have large excesses of skin on their faces, hands, and feet. Their ability to talk, walk, and touch things have been severely limited due to Hirona’s inflicted evil – meanwhile, you're only limited in the ways you can cover your markings because most of the clothing you once had has been sold.

*~*~*~*

Instead of sleeping on stone tiles – or a cardboard box if you had gotten lucky with your findings in garbage disposals – you lay awake, nestled between freshly ironed sheets and a mattress you feel is softer than a cloud. On the bedside table, there are a few gifts from the staff. Nothing too fancy with the crisis at hand, but the kind gesture is more than enough in comparison to what you have been given on the streets recently. A basket of cut bruised fruits, two red roses in a glass vase partially shattered on its top, and a little card with the manager’s signature on the back thanking the stranger – Sunday he told you was his name – for his patronage and blessings. Just an hour prior, he had presented you to the receptionist. She started to cry when she looked upon your skin, and soon some of the other staff members came to see what the commotion was about.

In just moments you two were presented with a freshly clean room – so clean you had nearly slipped on the wet flooring. You would have fallen if Sunday were not right behind you. It would be a terrible thing to have your curse undone and then proceed to break a few bones.

Sunday calls to you from the other side of the room, standing beside his own bed to read the note in his hands. “Miss [First], would you like some of my favors? I noticed yours are of… lesser quality.”

He’s observant from what you have seen thus far. After your healing, he had walked with you to the nearest clothing store – it was quite far, as evidenced by his offering for you to stay closer to the area he found you at while he went to secure the goods. He somehow knew your size and noticed how even your socks didn’t fit you as nicely anymore.

“I don’t mean any offense by the way; I’m also just not quite hungry at the moment.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, freeing yourself from the comforter. “I don’t mean to take more than I can give back. You have done so much already for me, for the people on Jenovath.”

“I argue that my efforts are just beginning.”

You turn your head a bit to the side, your grip on the warm pallet fading as you urge yourself to get up. “Are they?”

Sunday nods, putting a hand on his chest as he closes his eyes. The note falls with his other hand to his side. “After all, I have only cured about twelve people total thus far – including you. There is still much work to be done, so you can take as much as I throw.”

Your gluttony gets the better of you – you don’t ask for his permission again.

*~*~*~*

“How did it feel, kid?”

The man in front of you has given you no warning before he speaks. Instead of ever using his voice, the bottles and shakers and cups do the talking for him most of the time – and the strength in his body that almost anyone can notice right away. You would have to be a fool to start a riot in Cooper Caprum’s bar. The Great Bubble is no place for transgressors. 

“What are you talking about, Mister Caprum?”

“That boy – ‘Sunday’ I heard his name was.”

The two glass cups mix liquids without a mere ounce of Cooper’s strength. Everything he holds in his hands belongs to Jenovath’s much more successful neighbor; or more specifically one of its most popular companies. SoulGlad Soothing Soda. SoulGlad Redsunset Sauce. When the concoction turns a deep violet, you’re tempted to revoke the offer you made to him.

“Ah, so you know Mister Caprum already?” You nearly jump at the sound of Sunday’s voice coming from right behind you. “That’s lovely to know.”

He points to the stool beside you; it’s much less stable than the one you sat on. 

“May I join you two?”

“Of course,” You reply, switching your seating before he can fall. “Take mine-”

Since you took his place, it’s only natural you’re the one to hit the floor. The new grip on your wrist is tight, almost like an embrace. Once you are back to being upright, Sunday goes to brush the dust off of his sitting. 

You’re certain there is nothing, but Sunday somehow still sees dirt – and you decide to make nothing of it.

You sigh, pulling out your wallet in case this bet doesn’t work out in your favor. “One thousand, right?”

Cooper nods his head like an eager child whose parents agreed to get him a puppy in exchange for good grades. “Mmhmm… and one secret.”

“A secret?” Sunday inquires, raising one of his wings in confusion.

“Alright,” You shake your head, placing the agreed-upon amount of credits on the table. 

Cooper copies your gesture. “Which cup would you like to start with, Missy?”

“Small. Then… I’ll hopefully make my way up.”

…

You had lost the bet early on; you weren’t able to even finish the original small glass you had selected.

Cooper managed to drink the whole thing on his own – all with a chuckle and wink every few gulps he took. But he has been a bartender for twenty-four years, so you hardly find it surprising. He must have had countless odd combinations thrown back at him the moment the client didn’t approve of it, either made by him when experimenting or being told to do so by the client. From the few pictures left on the hotel’s walls, you assume that this is where he has gotten his strength; kicking people in the nose the instant they don’t want to pay their tab. 

He didn’t have as much body hair and not a single noticeable muscle, no tattoos but plenty of uncovered scars. 

“Two thousand now – do you want to keep going?”

“I think she’s had enough,” Sunday interrupts, putting his arm around your back to hoist you up with him. “We’ll go back to the room now, thank you.”

Cooper looks down expectantly at the space in front of you, only the original thousand credits placed upon it. 

When Sunday notices, he seems to resist grumbling and takes out the same credit amount from his pocket. “Here.”

“Thanks for your patronage, Mister Sunday.” Cooper chuckles, the cigarette in his mouth starting to lose its flame. “Come back again soon, kid.”

*~*~*~*

From his gaze alone, you can tell Sunday disapproves of your lost wager – it’s fair, you think, for him to feel only condemnation.

However, Sunday now disapproves of most activities you try to do now. He’s behind you whenever you enter the bar, reminding you of how much of a lightweight you are and how easy it is for Cooper to persuade you into things you normally would not do sober. He dislikes the preferential treatment he is given over you by most of the staff, demanding for you to be treated with equal respect.

“Miss [First] Alloy is the first person I have healed from Hiroth… please don’t treat her like she is nothing but lowly trash.”

Sunday does not sleep much anymore either, preferring to go into nearby houses to bless the cursed. 

You can hardly remember what he looks like without such heavy eyebags, almost as dark as the smoke that comes out from Cooper’s cigars. 

One day, he came back with a strange cut on his cheek – a cut too shallow for a knife but too deep for a fingernail. 

Your savior tells you not to worry about him – to focus on taking care of yourself because ‘there is no other care within this universe similar to it’ – but you can’t help frowning as you wipe the golden blood away.

*~*~*~*

“I can’t,” Sunday repeats, his arms still crossed as he looks at the three faces before him. A boy no older than six, a girl no older than five, and a woman who has her daughter’s blue eyes. “I have other matters to attend to. I apologize, Mrs. Caprum. Your husband gave you false hope.” When Mrs. Caprum tries to beg again, he unravels one of his arms, putting a hand up and shaking his head.

As Sunday has said over and over for the past hour, Cooper’s wife and children are beyond saving.

The boy has purple skin – clotted and puffy like balloons – covering his vision.

The girl is afflicted with a similar swollen spot on the top of her lips, preventing her from speaking.

Their mother’s entire skin was a sickening plum color with only a few areas smaller than a freckle remaining untouched. 

“I’m sorry.”

The words that come out of you are true, heartfelt, just like how Sunday has talked to you before. You look down before he does, not wanting to take in such a scene any longer. 

Sunday has told you he is not all-powerful. He has told many people that countless times, not that they listened to him. 

“Bullshit,” Cooper snaps – in an instant, Sunday’s scarf is grabbed and he is raised just an inch or two above the ground. “You can heal them – stop lying to me, you bragged all fucking night a week ago about your powers.”

“I do not brag, Mister Caprum.”

After the two stare – one with disappointment, the other with hate – you catch Sunday before he falls.

*~*~*~*

The next time you see Cooper, it is him sitting down at the bar. The Great Bubble has had a closed sign next to its front door for about twelve days now. 

Cooper took the time off, not paid of course, after Sunday’s denials. Sunday kept working to heal other people… but not the Caprum family.

“They’re dead.” The bartender murmurs when you’re just close enough. “My Sarah, my little Julia and Victor. They’re dead because of him.”

You don’t know how to reply; instead sitting on a wobbly stool that looks just as damaged as Cooper’s does.

You hold onto the table’s edge to keep a steady balance while Cooper rests his elbows atop it. Your mind – so silent now that Sunday has gone out on business yet again – wanders to find another purpose.

Perhaps you can help someone instead of relying on luck to do it for you.

“It’s probably not going to help… But,” You begin, looking at the stone’s large cracks instead of how skinny Cooper has gotten. “I can tell you the secret I promised you. Both of them.”

You try to follow a path similar to your savior’s – a path full of rejoicement and triumph. 

“I-”

I was a part of House Sterling. 

The rag covering your mouth prevents you from speaking.

I was the eldest daughter but was unwanted by my father. 

The sweet smell prevents you from screaming but also prevents you from speaking your truth.

As soon as my mother died, I was on the streets.

Your eyelids droop like you haven’t slept in a long time – so similar to when you were fending for yourself, for your sanity, for your hope-

*~*~*~*

“Ah,” Sunday looks down at you from the chair beside your bed – he closes the familiar book you see him carry everywhere. “You’re awake.”

You try to speak with all your might, but something is stuck within your throat – the passage of airflow and saliva is kept open, but words cannot seem to come out.

You taste something floral and sweet sticking to the roof of your mouth. Earthy not like a mushroom… but like tea that has been steeping for much too long. It takes a few more moments for you to learn how to breathe strictly through your nose as something tickles you every time you inhale the air.

“Mister Caprum has been put under arrest.” He leans in, his hair nearly covering the entirety of his eyes and forehead from sight. The smell of cleanliness does little to deflect your senses from the inside of your mouth. 

There is a hint of blood coming out from the lump in your throat. 

Or is it from the supposed pacifist?

“You need not fear anymore.”

Maybe it is from both of you.

“I shall take care of all your burdens and woes.”

Maybe it is from neither of you.

“You don’t need to lift a finger anymore, Miss Alloy.”

You try not to force yourself to even whisper to him – even though you have so much to say, so many questions to ask him. You remain silent as Sunday takes the wrist closest to him, holding the palm against the right side of his chest. 

“I was horrified.” He admits, forcing a gentle smile as he now stares down at himself. “I had thought I was… going to lose you. I thought maybe Mister Caprum wouldn’t treat you differently because of what had happened. I thought wrong, it seems.”

That explains only half of the story. Why can’t you talk? Why does your larynx feel like it is being squeezed until it eventually pops? Why is there a minty aroma being mixed in with the scent of blood?

It doesn’t hit you yet – Sunday attempts to tell you the answers you wish for as nice as he can.

“I regret letting you know someone so… advantageous.” You feel his heartbeat. It’s slightly above yours, moving up and down in a way akin to a rainstorm’s rhythm. Bum bum. Bum bum. Bum bum. “He takes your money, uses your trust, attempts to take your secrets, and he almost took you.” 

The pulse quickens faster than you can process his words. Dun dun dun. Dun dun dun. Dun dun dun.

“I’ll miss your voice. I’ll miss a lot of things from you,” Your vision somehow gets more blurry, more hazy. Ah. It’s simply your tears – one of the few things Sunday doesn’t plan to take from you. After all, everyone cries. “But it’s for the best. I’m sorry it had to go this way.” 

He is genuinely sorry. So very sorry. You know he is. However, it doesn’t make the thorns digging into your throat any less painful.

“Please don’t hate me.” He sounds near tears himself. Maybe that is why he doesn’t see your sadness as something to alleviate – he cannot even stop himself, much less stop you or anyone else. “Hyssop flowers are beautiful.”

*~*~*~*

“Kyrie eleison.

Christe eleison.

Kyrie eleison.”

- Kyrie, Mozart's Requiem.

*~*~*~*

a/n - ahhhhhhh chapter one’s done! if anyone wants to leave any suggestions or theories, i would be happy to hear them!! aya out… only for now of course!