#( ooc ) : keep in mind i think this is like. evening. so the sun is setting. hence why the glowflies were so bright

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

Sep 26th

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1. Hi good evening, I'm looking for a wangxian fanfic, where yu ziyuan was Jin guangshan's concubine, if not You already found it, on an old list, and I would love to read it again @glass-madness

FOUND? OOC! by -niehuaisang

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2. Hi there! I've been trying to find this fic to re-read for a while now and I'm hoping that someone else recognizes it (and that it's not deleted!)

I believe it was in the "LWJ marries the Yiling Patriarch" category and there was a Yiling Wei sect or something similar (although it's been a very long time and I don't recall anyone else actually being in the sect so I could be wrong on either/both counts). WWX often went back and forth between the Burial Mounds and Baoshan Sanren's mountain via portal (?) as they were trying to cure Lan Yi of her spiritual malady (?). Last I still remember it was a WIP, and one of the little details that sticks in my mind was that BSSR had gotten WWX doing decorative knotwork to keep his hands busy, so the palace had incredibly intricate pieces, like, everywhere, and he often gifted it to people.

Hopefully that sounds familiar to someone; thank you for all you do! @tevokkia

2 check #17 on this old post, it also mentions knotwork and BSSR and might be what you're looking for

FOUND? 💖🔒love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, immortal WWX, slow burn, pining, arranged marriages)

FOUND? inevitable everything by isabilightwood (E, 193k, WangXian, WQ/MM, JYL/JZX, BSSR/LY, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, but WWX is BSSR's disciple/adoptive grandson too, the cultivation sects think this is a, War Prize AU, it's actually self-arranged marriage, Arranged Marriage, yin iron shenanigans, LWJ Has Friends, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, LWJ Has a YLLZ Kink, Switch WangXian, BDSM, Submissive LWJ, Dominant WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, magical illness of a side character (who will get better), Rope Bondage, Impact Play, Rimming, Bottom LWJ, Temperature Play, Face-Fucking, Breathplay, (talisman-based breathplay to be specific), Cock Warming, Public Scene, no one gets naked in public this is the sense of WWX invents the, Remote Controlled Vibrator, Semi-Public Sex, Outdoor Sex, Blindfolds, one qingmian smut scene with oral and fingering, Minor Character Death, All Sex Scenes Are Skippable!)

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3. Hello! I’m looking for a short fic w 1-3 chapters where there’s canon divergence bc wwx was really pretty due to his dad. I remember in it, when jfm brings him back to the lotus pier, yzy actually denies any rumors of a possible affair bc he looks so much like wcz

I also remeber in it wwx uses his beauty to stop wrh from going into a qi deviation and stops the sun shot campaign as a result

FOUND? The Most Beautiful Man Alive (and his gremlin son) by meyari (T, 4k, WangXian, attempted child molestation (discussed), sexual assault (awareness of the possibility, it doesn't happen ever, beauty as a tool, Smart WWX, Protective JYL, Protective JC, Good Parent JFM, Protective YZY, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies)

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4. Hi, can you please help me find this fic. It’s a modern au where lan zhan and Wei Ying are soulmates. Wei Ying finds out because he saw a painting of Han Guang Jun and thinks his soulmate is dead. He starts to work in the museum operated by xiao xingchen or song lan where they collect stuff that belongs to Han Guang Jun and Yiling Laozu. At the end turns out lan zhan also went to the museum and they kept missing each other because they went at different timings. Thankssss @marshmallowbeats

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5. Hi! I'm looking for a wangxian omegaverse ao3 fic. It's in a futuristic cyber/tech setting where people have machine implants in their bodies. From what I remember the synopsis goes like this: Wei Ying was travelling from one planet to another with a baby a-yuan, his implants fail and Lan Zhan finds them. LZ takes them in and mistakes a-yuan as his biological son with WY. Some other details like the yin tiger seal being an AI and WY having dirt on the Jins. Thank you very much!!!!! @mithesimmer

FOUND? I'll buy you the moon (I'll buy you two) by Thesaurus_with_no_words (E, 27k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Space, Rebels, Space Opera, On the Run, Promoted To Parent, Robots, Androids, Mechs, Battle Mechs, Hurt/Comfort, Technopathy, Willful and Deliberate Baby and Wife Acquisition, Porn With Plot, Mpreg)

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6. hello! idk if this site is still active, but im looking for a mdzs time travel fic where wwx returned during cloud recesses study era. there was a scene where he slits his throat because he thinks its better if he just dies (everyone worries about him including madam yu)

FOUND? 💖 (Un)Hidden truth by Sarah_R (M, 291k, wangxian, major character death, time travel, characters watching their show, suicide attempt, panic attacks, self-harm, nightmares, hurt/comfort, angst, WIP)

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7. looking for a fic modern au established relationship one shot wangxian where lwj gets appendicitis (i think it was that, it was some kind of pain he had to have a procedure for) and he like wakes wwx up next to him so that he can go to the hospital and wwx feels worried/guilty/stressed bc he didn’t notice and lwj didn’t say anything can’t remember the name ! @willesnelson

FOUND? The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad (Valentine’s) Day by GhostySword, Two4Joy (T, 7k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Modern, Established Relationship, Sickfic, Valentine's Day, Hospitalization, Meet the Family, LWJ's Rabbit Children)

FOUND? like bunnies by idleorbitals (T, 4k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst)

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8. Hello! I had to switch phones and lost all my fanfic open tabs, and I'm trying to remember the names of all of them. One I cannot recall for the life of me was a WIP with only one chapter where during the Burial Mounds Siege Wei Wuxian was basically sort of rescued by Lan Wangji but then put to trial by the cultivation sects and he agreed to be imprisioned as long as they guaranteed A-Yuan's safety. I remember it being a sort of Madam Lan situation, or something. Can you help me?

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9. A) Hi! This is for fic finder. I dont remember much and i dont remember if it was modern with cultivation. Focus on junior quartet. Wen remnant live. They are on summer camp that the jin organized. A-yuan comes to the camp with JWY (im not sure about this). A-yuan then befriended jl, oyzz, ljy. I think they are in the same room (dorm room but its a cottage? I dont know what its called). In group activity, a-yuan sneak up to meet up with wn and the other three sneak up to follow a-yuan. Long story short, a-yuan, ljy, and oyzz is invited to lanling because they are jl friend (either because that or they rescued him). The one that invite them is either jgs or jgy (i think it was jgs). They tried to track wwx but always failed. When jgy comes to the summer camp, they tried to disguise a-yuan as lan diciple but failed. And then jgy found out that a-yuan is wwx son and forced them to go to lanling. In lanling, a-yuan wants to leave and jl, oyzz, and ljy helped. Su She is the one that tracked them down when they tried to run away. Thats all i can remember. Thanks

B) Hi! This is for fic finder. Its a modern with cultivation fic i think. Wen remnant lives and in hiding. Focused on junior quartet. A-yuan comes to summer camp that the jin organized with JWY. A yuan the befriended jl, ljy, and oyzz. They are in the same room (dorm room but a cottage? I dont know what it is called). Jl, ljy, and oyzz is kinda suspicious of a-yuan because he is the only one that are not affliated with a sect. The three of them followed a-yuan in secret when a-yuan sneak up to meet up with wn. Long story short, jgs invited ljy, oyzz, and a-yuan to lanling because they are jl friends. When jgy comes to the camp, they tried to disguise a-yuan as lan diciple and failed. Jgy forced them to go to lanling (honestly i think he kinda kidnapped them). I think he found out that a-yuan is wwx son and used him to lure out wwx. In lanling, jl, ljy, and oyzz helped a-yuan to leave. Su She is the one that responsible of them. Thats all i can remember. Thanks! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

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10. Hi, lovely people. I'm looking for a fic where LWJ takes WWX out the Burial Mounds, along w/all the Wens (against their will, but keeping 'em safe) & brings 'em to Gusu. He turns WWX into an omega w/a "recipe" of Wen Qing (who does it just for their own safety), until WY gets pregnant of Sizhu & Jingyi (not sure abt the names), but he often doubts abt having being an omega b4 & he's always being forced to have sex. LZ treats him rough & poorly, even in front of their sons. WWX ends up getting tired & runs away w/the kids, leaves 'em in the woods & jumps off a cliff. (Prob. Dark LWJ) TYSM! @einherjermineord

FOUND?🔒forfeit by eightroses (E, 12k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dark, Dark LWJ, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dubious Consent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Alpha to Omega transformation, Alpha LWJ, Alpha WWX, Omega WWX, Sexual Coercion, Kidnapping, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Forced Feminization, Mpreg, Forced Pregnancy, Fainting, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Vomiting, Rough Sex, Knotting, Medical Inaccuracies, Body Horror, Abuse, Domestic Violence, Trauma, No happy ending here)

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11. I’m looking for a wangxian fic where wangji tells wei ying what he did in the cold pond (the handfasting) while their in the cloud recesses and it diverges from there @wrappedaroundxielian

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12. For FicFinder – trying to find a fic I thought I had marked for later. I think it was modern with magic au? I think LWJ takes over an old theatre called the burial mounds which used to be WWX's? In this AU I think LWJ thinks WWX is dead or he didn't know WWX until he bought the theatre. honestly not sure this will be found but I appreciate any clues all the same. tysm for all you do running this blog. @itsallwearecalledtodo

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13. Hi, I’m looking for an ABO fic where WWX is an O and LWJ is an A and they’re soulmates. But WWX has been hiding his identity and pretending to be a B, because he got abused in his old pack and had run away (?) I think. @plzloveme

FOUND?🔒backfire by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 115k, wangxian, LWJ/MXY, One-Sided MXY/WWX, MXY/NMJ, Modern, BDSM AU, Biologically Determined Dom/sub Roles, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Sadism, Masochism, Past Sexual Abuse, Sexual Slavery, Self-Harm, BDSM as a Form of Self-Harm, Minor Character Death(s), Arson, Shades of Black Widow WWX, Extremely Dubious Consent, Rape/Non-con Elements, Normalized Homosexuality and Bisexuality, Normalized Polyamory, nonsexual bdsm, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Pining WWX, jealous WWX, Touch-Starved WWX, Professional Dominant WWX, Sex Worker WWX, gentle dom LWJ, Mean Dom LWJ, oblivious LWJ, Past WC/WWX, Minor JGY/WWX, Mentioned WWX/Others, Emotional Infidelity, Angst with a Happy Ending, endgame wangxian, MXY Also Gets a Happy Ending, the tags are scary but i promise there's some lightheartedness too, wangxian love one another so much, WWX is healed by the power of nonsexual bdsm and friendship, and then gets bdsm'd quite sexually and happily by the love of his life, Additional Warnings In Author's Note)

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14. hello! i’m looking for a fic where jc post-siege finds wwx’s diaries in the burial mounds and he gets transported???? into the memories of each book

FOUND! Waiting On You by SmellsLikeDeanSpirit (M, 26k, JC & WWX, WangXian, WIP, Graphic Depicitions of Violence, Major Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, Memories, Time Travel, Sort Of, the characters watching the show trope but different, WWX has magical diaries that force the reader to experience his memories, JC finds them and reads them, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Bashing, Bad Parent YZY, YZY Bashing, Canonical Character Death, he comes back tho, JC regrets, JC Needs a Hug, WWX Needs a Hug)

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15. Hi, this is for fic finder! I’m looking for a fic where wei ying and lan zhan are betrothed (I can’t remember if they were betrothed since childhood or during the cloud recesses arc. But basically the jiangs agree to the betrothal because they expect wei ying to be miserable in cloud recesses with all the gusu lan rules. However when they see how wei ying is actually loved and respected, they get super mad. I think madam yu gets mad because her own children are not in loving marriages?

There’s a possibility it might’ve been a/b/o but I’m not sure if i’m getting fics mixed up here 😭

But please help me find this fic! I’m always so grateful for the work you guys do

FOUND?🔒 Alliance AU series by Ilona22 (E, 21k, WangXian, JYL/OC, Arranged Marriage, A/B/O Dynamics, PWP, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Intersex Omegas, Not JC Friendly, Matchmaking, canon Jiang family dynamics, Family time, Night Hunts, Mention of male omega pregnancy, Intrigue at Jinlintai, Mentions of Prostitution, War, Conflict between characters)

FOUND? in case you ever foolishly forget by RavenclawLoki (E, 19k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Engagement, fast burn, Fluff, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Bad Person YZY, YZY Bashing, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LWJ & WWX are decent at communicating hense the fast burn, Good Uncle LQR, Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Established Relationship, BAMF JYL, she has given up on defending bad parents and we simply must support her, it's yanli's world we are just living in it, Demisexuality, Asexuality, Sex Positive Asexuality, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Soft WangXian, Implied Switching, LWJ shows love by slow blinking, Loss of Virginity, First Time, gonna add Out of Character tag to be safe regarding YL)

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16. Hello ^^ I am looking for a fic where LWJ and JC traveled back in time and LWJ was the first one that found Wwx on the streets. Thx! @yoonieby

FOUND? A Matter of Time series by mrcformoso (E, 84k, wangxian, time travel fix-it, graphic depictions of violence, underage, LWJ pov, JC pov, dark LWJ, manipulation, grooming, teen body adult mind for LWJ, happy ending for wangxian, problematic consensual underage sex, blood & violence, insane LWJ, manic LWJ)

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17. hi can you help me find a fic where lan zhan participates in a wei ying engagement tournament. Lwj wore a mask so as not to be recognized @silvanagomes87

FOUND? travelers through the empty gate by stiltonbasket (M, 107k, WangXian, royalty au, mistaken identity, emperor WWX, poor LWJ, forced marriage, (by LWJ himself), confused WWX, parenthood, misunderstandings, empress LWJ, fluff & humor, married life, angst w/ happy ending, WIP)

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18. Hey hi, I’m looking for a missing wangxian fic. It takes place during the sunshot campaign, lwj and wwx are cursed(?) so that they feel eachother’s emotions, lwj pines and wwx is acting aloof and angry, lwj goes to jiang cheng and asks to marry wwx and lwj hits the table when jc insults wwx. Lwj and wwx share a dream and wwx is convinced that it’s all in his head before lwj walks into his tent repeating what he said in the dream. Eventually, lwj and wwx are married before the last battle and lwj is grievously injured. There’s a happy ending tho. Please lmk if you find this, I’ve spent days looking @remembertosaygoodbye

FOUND? The dreamers. by orange_crushed (E, 17k, WangXian, Dreams, Dreamsharing, Spells & Enchantments, Canon Divergence, Oral Sex, Penetrative Sex, War, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Temporary Character Death, The Character Dies But Does Not Stay Dead Trust Me, Resurrection, Suicidal Thoughts, Loss of Identity, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Injury Recovery, Trauma, Memory Loss, Memory Magic, War Is Hell Etcetera, I Promise The Characters Do Not Stay Dead and Will Absolutely Be Okay, Masturbation, Fantasy, Very Brief Mention of Burial-Mounds-Era Cannibalism, Major Character Death... but only for a minute honestly!!, Awkward First Times, Marriage Proposal)

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19. Hi! This is for fic finder. I dont remember much, but i think it was mentioned that nmj is suspicious of the jin after the first burial mound siege. After he sees that the wen is just an old person. When jin rusong dies, nmj secretally goes to He sect and hide the non combatan in the sect. Thats all i can remember. Thanks @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

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20. hello! I'm looking for this wangxian fic I think it is based on the song Driver's License by Olivia Rodrigo, it does not have a happy ending since wwx and lwj do not end up together in the end

thank you!

hello! thanks for answering my question in the fic finder post! question #20 I reviewed the summary, but unfortunately that is not the fic 😭 I remember that in the end wwx marries someone else (but not lwj) thanks for responding! 💗😊 and sorry for not explaining my question well

NOT FOUND! driver’s license by cryptenhope (T, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Post-Break Up, Making Up, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending if you read the ending notes, Ambiguous/Open Ending)

FOUND? 🔒 drivers license by AG1234VL (T, 11k, WWX/Other, WangXian, LWJ/LQY, Modern AU, Hurt No Comfort, slight comfor?Non-Chronological, Song fic, Crying WWX, ice cream and beer, breakup weight gain, Lots of Crying, Angst, Homophobia, from lqr, wangxian breakup)

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[askeight]

THINK FAST! RUN FASTER! (throws glowflies @ you)

Growing up in Octarian society had its perks.

For one, it made Nanami stronger than they would ever be otherwise—even if it was a waste, given the state of the lower half of their body. This... wasn't always a good thing, though, as they often failed to recognize their own strength. But it still let them carry their friends, carry a lot of groceries, hold a Dynamo without faltering. They considered it a good thing.

For two... their reflexes were almost unbelievable. One had to see it to believe it.

And that is exactly what Anon did, as the moment the jar of Glowflies showed in the corner of their eye, they whipped around and swung at it, shattering the glass.

...

In that moment, time slowed.

Trauma does... a lot to you. A lot of things that make sense, and a lot of things that don't. Like how the smallest things can send you straight back to where you started, no matter how much "better" you've gotten. The scent of metal. The cold splatter of ink. The sound of a phone ringing.

The shattering of glass.

The feeling of shards sinking into your skin.

The sight of ink dripping out of your hand.

The lights.

The buzzing.

The whirring.

The cold reality that a normally harmless and stupid prank ended up causing them to relive everything.

In their mind, Nanami was 15 again, curled into a ball inside of the blender, unable to hear their screams and sobs over the sounds of what they were sure was going to be their demise. They weren't ever going to love. To see the sun. To fill up a notebook with their writing. To see what a real life was like, one that wasn't lost to time. One that wasn't doomed by circumstance.

... Yet, they did all of those.

And now, they had to suffer the aftermath.

Nanami snapped back to reality, first noticing that the Glowflies had moved onto someone else. Then, that they had fallen to their knees. Then, that they were crying. It was a wonder how they hadn't attracted a crowd by that point.

Was it still this bad? To think they had truly moved on...

The moment they gathered enough energy, they slowly stood up, mumbling, "... sorry. try somebody else," in Octarian, not caring if the other party could understand.

Nanami left.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

SOMETIMES I LONG TO EAT YOU UP ; RYŌMEN SUKUNA

synopsis; sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you. he cooks for you, instead.

word count; 6.0k

contents; ryōmen sukuna/reader, gn!reader, househusband!sukuna, no curses au, fluff fluff fluff!!, sukuna is Whipped bc i say so, (he bullies you a bit but he does so lovingly), lots of cooking and descriptions of food, implied reincarnation au if you reeaalllyyyyy squint (but feel free to ignore it if that’s not your thing!!), reader is a silly goose, sukuna vs human emotion (he loses), he’s ooc but he’s Free

a/n; >:3 is anyone shocked….. that’s right. ari is in fact capable of writing for characters who aren’t stsg….. this one has been in my wips for Many Months now but i finally finished it!! i just think being in a nice warm kitchen could fix him. (super cute dividers by @/enchanthings !!)

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you.

throughout the years you've been together, it's something you've grown used to. words like love must feel foreign in his mouth — even more so when they slip into the air, voiced, manifested. 

discomforting, if the crease between his brows is anything to go by.

he only says it under certain conditions, little moments here and there, all of them memorable; a particularly sentimental midnight drive, that time you broke down sobbing into his chest after a rough day, the night he proposed. and so on. little moments, precious moments, few and far between.

that’s just how sukuna is. unaccustomed to being loved, even more unaccustomed to being in love. swallowing the words down, afraid of what could happen if he spoke them aloud, through more than a mere whisper. as if they could burn you.

you don’t mind, because you know him. and you know that he loves you, even if he doesn’t say it nearly as often as you do. 

sukuna shows his love for you in other ways. driving you wherever you need to be, holding you to his chest when you’re sleepy, watching reality shows with you even though he hates them; always watching over you, making sure you’re safe and happy, almost hunting for anything that could disturb your peace. you can feel that love, almost reach out and touch it — a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through large crowds, a bouquet of camellias waiting for you on the kitchen table as soon as you get home. it’s there. concrete.

but, above all else… sukuna translates his boundless love into food. 

the sun rises outside the walls of your apartment, slow and steady, hazy sunlight flitting through the windows of your kitchen and dyeing the open space in a golden glow — like something out of a summery daydream. you rub the tender skin beneath your bleary eyes, as your feet move you forward. slowly, groggily.

stumbling towards your target.

sukuna doesn’t flinch when you wrap your arms around his waist, forehead bumping into his broad back, practically tackling him into a hug. he’s become attuned to the sound of your clumsy footsteps. he makes a tiny noise, acknowledging your presence, and that’s all. 

the low purr of the espresso machine buzzes in the air, as he watches over the process, dutiful as ever. the same drawn out, thoughtful process he goes through every morning; picking out the beans himself, grinding them into grounds, and making a cup for you with his beloved, expensive coffee machine. making sure every setting is exactly as it should be. it gives him peace of mind.

and it needs to be perfect, in every possible way — so sukuna tries his best not to let you distract him.

(he never quite succeeds.) 

a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you squeeze his waist. hands wandering, feeling him up, buzzing with the warmth the contact gives you. he’s always so cozy, like this. all you want is to smush your face into his plush chest. but sukuna clicks his tongue, and places a palm on your forearm. keeping it still.

his voice comes out raspy, excruciatingly deep. a gruff kind of tilt to it that makes you shiver.

”assaulting me first thing in the morning, are we?”

you’re a little too sleepy to respond, too out of it. still reeling with the hazy remnants of your deep sleep, stretching your limbs out groggily and making a little mrm sound that makes his lips twitch up. unwillingly, might he add.

the two of you do this every morning. it’s a ritual, of sorts, one that you need to function properly — he always makes you a morning cup of coffee, and you always cling to him through the process. he always huffs and puffs and clicks his tongue, but never actually pushes you off. all sukuna does is absently caress your arm, where it rests around his midsection, still watching over the slow brew of the coffee. attentive.

you try not to disturb him too much, you do. because you know he loves this, deep down; the morning sunlight kissing up his nape, the sense of peace sinking into his bones. the feeling of your chest against his back, your fingers fiddling with the strings of his apron. but eventually, you always give in to the temptation of speaking — of coaxing a response from that deep, raspy morning voice.

so you part your lips.

”did you have nice dreams?” is murmured into his back, your cheek smooshed against the soft, dark fabric of his tight turtleneck.

sukuna hums. listening, always, even when he pretends to tune you out. then comes his response.

”i never dream.”

a moment passes.

you bite down on your lip, struggling to withhold a giggle. it doesn’t really work — but you tactfully pretend not to hear his displeased grumble.

”right,” you smile. ”my bad.”

another soft silence washes over you. just for a couple of moments, as you drowsily blink, and sukuna puts two ceramic cups on the counter. blissful, until you break it again.

”i think i dreamt of you.”

sukuna stills. only barely, just for a second, a brief twitch of his fingers; waiting. for tiny crumbs of love, ones you give out like candy, almost absentminded. like you don’t even have to try. ones he never fails to pick up, tuck into his pockets, chew between his teeth.

(sometimes, he envies how freely affection seems to spill from your lips.)

it’s touching, in a way. the idea that he never quite leaves your mind. that he’s there, always, even in your dreams. it’s… sweet. he supposes.

a little yawn leaves your lips, as you stretch your limbs out, akin to a sleepy cat — and he strains his ears to hear what you’ll say next.

”you were a cashier at the mcdonalds i went to.”

…

a click of his tongue — his hand slipping from its position on your forearm. ”get out of my kitchen.”

and just like that, a burst of giggles bubble up inside your throat. muffled into the cotton of his sweater, a sound that makes his heart feel a little too big for his body. ”noooo…” you whine, nails digging into the fabric so he can’t shake you off. clinging to him tighter when he tries, no real intent behind it. ”’m sorry. don’t get mad!”

”i would never work there,” he scoffs. ”frankly, the thought is insulting.”

you quirk a brow. ”what kind of beef do you have with mcdonalds?” 

”don't ask me stupid questions,” he huffs, clicking his tongue, a bitter lilt to his voice. ”they don’t make food. it’s practically contaminated — poisonous. i don’t want you eating that plastic.”

(why would you want to, when you have me to make you anything you want?)

you bite down on your lip, trying to hide a teasing smile. endeared, by how grumpy he’s getting. ”aw. i like it, though...”

sukuna sighs.

”alright, then.” his voice is controlled, hiding every single tinge of his carefully concealed frustration. he must have been an actor in a past life, to sound so effortlessly unbothered. ”go buy yourself one of those cheap, awful, bland cappuccinos you love so much. i’ll pay.”

your lips twitch upward. he’s just being snarky, you know he is, but you still bundle up his sweater with your fists. shaking your head. ”i’m just kidding,” you purr, biting back another yawn. ”only want yours.”

sukuna stills. silent, once more. trying not to acknowledge how your words tug at his heartstrings, chew at the bones of his ribcage. something like pride sprouts in his chest, and it’s enough to get him to smooth his thumb over your knuckle again. content. finally, the kitchen falls silent, only the low purring of the coffee machine to fill your ears — until that dwindles out too.

a kind of peace settles in the air. something holy, sukuna thinks. 

something that makes him feel human.

he moves his hands delicately, tenderly. attentive, as he pours hot espresso into your cup, slowly and gracefully, a delicate rhythm to his steady hands. just thinking of how warm you feel, like this, how you touch him like he’s harmless, like he could do no wrong in your eyes. how your voice sounds so pretty in the wake of a new morning, when it’s just a little raspy, unguarded in a way that makes him feel like he’s cradling a wounded bird in his arms. something fragile and majestic. he pretends not to like the sound of it, the way it distracts him from his extensive brewing process; but sukuna thinks he’d do just about anything to hear it once more.

absolutely anything.

”what are you thinking about, sukuna?”

”nothing,” he’s quick to hum. maybe a little too quick, but before you can question it, he scoffs. ”are you gonna cling to me all day, you little brat?”

”… can i?” 

sukuna clicks his tongue.

(he’s awfully lucky you don’t look up to see the cherry red tint of his pierced ears.)

three little words begin to crawl up his throat. he can feel them, ticklish, heavy, and gulps them down before they get too far. busying himself with the clinking of coffee cups and stirring of silver spoons. then he’s turning around, to face you properly. blowing on the cup, a fragrance of espresso spreading throughout the kitchen, blending with the blooming flowers by the windowsill.

he hands you a cup of coffee, made just the way you like it. glancing at your forehead; wondering if he should pair it with a kiss.

(maybe later.)

”careful. it’s hot,” he hums. then he’s turning around to prepare his own cup, while you murmur your thanks, squeezing affectionately at his waist. taking a sip of the bitter brew. a warm cup of coffee, thoughtfully crafted, only to be passed into your awaiting hands. the same transaction you repeat every single morning.

the same act, conveying the same sentiment; those three little unspoken words. 

you take another sip, and a smile blooms on your lips. 

your stomach is growling.

it’s been ten minutes since it started. ten minutes since you noticed the pit of hunger in your gut, growing more and more for every passing second; and you’re trying to ignore it, valiantly, sitting in your cubicle and mentally cursing yourself for being so scatterbrained.

how on earth could you forget your own lunch?

a pang of ache bubbles up in your stomach, and you curl into yourself. sitting on a not-so-comfy chair, doing your best to survive, staring at the clock on the wall and watching the minutes tick down. only twenty minutes left of your lunch break.

in hindsight, it was inevitable. inevitable that you’d burn yourself out, eventually, that it’d make you lose sleep, that your fatigued brain would forget something so important. so fundamental to your peace of mind. you need your lunch to focus properly — there’s no way in hell that you’ll make it through the work day otherwise.

you could accept your fate and go buy a sandwich and a can of coffee, but…

(dammit.)

sukuna always makes your lunches himself. tailored to suit your tastes, to give you the nutrients and energy you need not to lose your mind or set the building on fire, with all the hours you spend staring into your computer screen and writing until your brain turns to mush. they’re always delicious, always lovingly made, and you think you might break down and cry if you have to settle for a cheap sandwich instead. you’d rather swallow crushed glass.

a sigh slips from your lips.

your coworker shoots you a sympathetic glance, hearing yet another of your stomach’s agonized growls. she taps at your desk, to get your attention, and you look up to meet her kind eyes. ”my offer still stands, you know?”

you give her a smile. ”no, it’s fine,” you murmur, rubbing the back of your neck. ”eating someone else’s handmade food just wouldn’t feel right…”

”… he spoils you, huh?”

a huff. you pout a little, and she chuckles, going back to eating from her bento. it’s hard not to feel jealous. it’s even harder not to think of the bento still waiting for you in your fridge.

finally, you resign yourself to your tragic fate. putting both palms on your desk, ready to lift yourself up; doomed to survive on a cheaply made sandwich and a too-sweet can of coffee. it’s not ideal, not at all. but it is what it is.

(if only you hadn’t forgotten it…)

”you’re a klutz.”

something is placed directly in front of you. two boxes, stacked on top of each other, wrapped up in a pink cloth — neatly tied, smelling just slightly of food. tantalizing.

you raise your head.

sukuna has one eyebrow raised, a mild expression of disbelief painted on his face. unimpressed, as he gazes down at you, hair tousled and slicked back. wearing a leather jacket, black like the tattoos etched into his skin, on his face, a larger one running in streams of ink from his shoulder down to his forearm. you can see a tiny bit of it, crawling towards his collarbone. equally tantalizing.

a click of his tongue breaks you out of your stupor — stuck in place, staring at him silently. like he just fell out of the sky. 

”sukuna,” you sputter, finally, glancing down at the bento and then back up at him. ”you —”

”you’re lucky i noticed,” he cuts you off. ”almost didn't make it in time.” one glance at the clock on the wall, and he’s placing a can of peach tea on your desk; it’s still covered in condensation, his fingers leaving prints on the aluminium. ”i should go. doubt your bosses will be very thrilled to have a motorcycle parked outside.”

”ah.” you fall silent. looking down at your lap, wearing a weak smile, a little too ashamed for his liking. ”… sorry, ’kuna. i know you’re busy.”

he gazes down at you, slumped in your chair, bags beneath your weary eyes. an apologetic smile on your lips, a little dejected. like you’re being scolded.

(his eyes soften.)

sukuna shakes his head. only slightly, by a hair, but enough to put you at ease — to let you know he isn’t upset, that grumpy is simply his default state. his voice shifts into a lower, softer tone. ”just don’t forget it next time.” 

then he flicks your forehead. gently, not enough force behind it to even sting.

”klutz,” he says, again, and you know it’s a term of endearment. a smile sprouts on your lips.

you sit up straight, eyes crinkling as you look at him, before falling down on the bento in front of you — practically drooling as you think about the meal you’re about to have. ”thank you,” you coo, a sweet grin on your lips as you meet his gaze. voice tingling with barely contained fondness, expression and posture brightening as you tap your feet beneath your desk. ”i love you.”

something smooths over sukuna’s face; something you can’t quite put your finger on. his lips are pursed, and his amber eyes simmer with something awfully fond. swirling like the spots of sunlight on the wall just behind him. it’s brief, easy to miss — a single tug of his lips. the tiniest little smile.

his hand reaches out, fingertips ghosting over your skin as he brushes through your bangs; adjusting them. and you know it’s just an excuse to touch you, that he’d let himself be greedy and ruffle your hair if you weren’t in public. he doesn’t like having an audience, small as it may be. but he can’t really control himself, when it comes to you.

”make sure to eat all of it,” he hums, glancing out the window, towards the motorcycle parked outside. ”i’ll come pick you up later.”

you smile, and sukuna leaves. elegant, even in the way he moves, collected and confident. languid, long legs and a broad back. the warmth of his palm on your head remains, as you wave after him with a cheery see you soon!

and it’s finally time.

with an eager kind of giddiness, you unwrap your bento — ignoring your still growling stomach, the jealous mutters of your coworker, the ticking of the clock on the wall. from outside the window comes a ray of sunshine, a streak of gold falling across the floorboards. it illuminates the contents of your lunch, and you swallow down a gulp. the presentation is lovely, as always. the top layer carries a mouth-watering cutlet, a wide array of little vegetables, fresh and clean, while the bottom one has a couple perfectly formed onigiri; they’re awfully cute, shaped into little pandas, decorated with dried seaweed and sesame seeds.

you pick one up, holding it in the light of the glittering sun. it’s so cute you almost don’t want to eat it at all.

”did he really make that..?” your coworker mumbles, still chewing on her own food. you’re too hungry to respond.

you fish out a tiny note, tucked between the boxes. that’s where he usually puts them. you don’t remember when it started, but you know he enjoys it; writing down little reminders or words of encouragement. his handwriting is beautiful, clear and concise. your eyes trail over every little word, every letter, the little smudged scribble in the middle. it makes you smile.

you’ve been working hard lately. don’t overdo it. the company won’t fall apart if you slack off every once in a while. i lo we can watch that show you like when you get home.

a warmth spreads throughout your body, from the pit of your stomach down to the tips of your fingers; your heart constricting to make room for the love that blooms between your ribs. you barely even notice the wide smile on your lips, leaning forward to leave a little kiss on the paper. it’ll have to do, since he isn’t here to receive it himself.

and as you dig in, savouring every piece of food he made, you’re almost certain you can feel it. that burst of emotion he always tries to contain, the three little words that always sputter out on the tip of his tongue. the cutlet is perfectly crispy, juicy on the inside, practically melting on your tongue. seasoned thoroughly, cooked to completion, so tasty it makes your mouth water. the onigiri are stuffed with a wide array of fillings, fluffy rice blending nicely together with the contents, little grains sticking to the corners of your mouth. and the veggies are cut into cute little star shapes, light and refreshing, balancing the meal and making you wolf everything down with a bright smile. 

there’s love, in this. in every meal he makes for you. there’s love in the way he’s picked out your favorite ingredients, all the seasonings you like, love in the way he’s put so much effort into the presentation alone. love, love, love. you can practically taste it on your tongue. the peach tea tastes sweet and fruity, and you gulp it down eagerly, bento left empty.

there are only five minutes left until you have to start working again, but you feel nowhere near as spent as before. you think of his hands, his eyes.

his love.

(god, you can’t wait to get home.)

a soft, orange glow simmers in the kitchen — an atmosphere too sweet not to savour.

your dining room table is covered in a white cloth, burdened by the weight of one burning candle and an expensive vase; stuffed with camellias in all hues, jasmine buds and pretty bluebells, floral scents mingling with the cinnamon-like one of the scented candle. every inhale fills your senses with pure bliss. 

not to mention the food. 

you’re drooling. you’re sure of it. eyes darting from plate to plate, dish to dish, overwhelmed by the delicacies; trays of sushi, perfect cuts of salmon and tuna cushioned by soft rice, maki rolls stuffed with all your favorite toppings, plenty of soy sauce in tiny cups. fried shrimp, a golden colour, fluffy and crispy, and miso soup topped with garlic and cubes of tofu, steam rising from the ceramic bowls.

and then, of course, his infamous dumplings, grilled on both sides — a perfect golden brown. 

all your favorites.

sukuna takes hold of a teapot. made of glass, stuffed with a blooming chrysanthemum, petals stretching out like rays of sunlight in the golden water. he pours it into two ceramic cups, and then promptly drags a chair out for you; a silent beckoning.

but all you can do is stare. 

”sukuna…”

he quirks a brow, meeting your astonished stare, eyes round and confused like a puppy’s; painfully cute. he could eat you up. ”what?”

you open your mouth, then close it again. silent, furrowing your brows as if in deep contemplation. ”our anniversary is in august, right?” something panicked smooths over your face. ”i didn’t forget?”

a sigh spills from his lips. ”don’t be dumb,” he clicks his tongue, glancing away for no more than a moment. ”we haven’t had much time to eat together, lately. that’s all.” 

(he missed you. he wanted to spoil you, a bit.

he could say it out loud; but he chooses not to.)

either way, he knows you get the message. because suddenly your eyes glimmer, and a full smile blooms on your pretty lips. you waste no time in plopping down on the seat in front of you, right across from sukuna. ”hehe. thank you, baby.”

he huffs. tiny, more of a shy little breath. ”alright, already. eat. before it gets cold.”

”okay, okay!” 

he watches as you grab your chopsticks, hungrily eyeing all the dishes on display. listening to his own heartbeat; thrumming, softly, just behind his ribs. pulsating like a fish gasping for air.

”gosh. when did you even do all this?” you ask, soaking in the intimate atmosphere, as he runs an absent hand through his hair. still smelling lightly of coconut oil from the shower he barely had time to take — but he’d rather die than soil this moment with the smell of his cooking-induced sweat.

”when you were away.” he reaches for the cup in front of him, tracing the tips of his fingers against the ceramic. ”jin helped. not with the cooking, obviously, thank god. but…” he raises it to his lips, before taking a sip. ”the ambience. i suppose.”

a hum. you raise your hand, reaching for the bouquet of flowers. ”did he bring these, too?” a curt nod is all you get; it’s enough to have your lips raising up into a smile, fingertips brushing against the petals, pink and yellow, cupping the flowers like they’re made of glass. ”no wonder. do you know what bluebells symbolize?”

sukuna stills. he meets your gaze, eyes trailing towards your knuckles, your fingers, how they blend together with the petals. how he could almost mistake them for stalks. he leans back in his chair, and mutters under his breath;

”… why else would i ask him to buy them?”

you blink. not in surprise, but realization. the sweet kind, like a splash of citrus blooming on your tongue, refreshing.

(he’s always been a bit of a sap, hasn’t he.)

”… that’s true,” your lips split into a sheepish smile, hoping he won’t feel the heat of your cheeks from this distance. ”they’re pretty. thank you.”

another little furrow of his brows. ”enough of that,” comes a sigh. ”if you really want to thank me, make sure the food doesn’t go to waste.”

you stifle a giggle, reaching for the bowl of miso soup. following his advice. sukuna watches you dig in with a certain look in his eyes, something alert and attentive, soft in the corners. resting his chin on the heel of his palm, waiting patiently for those little blissful sighs to start spilling from your lips. wallowing in the finely crafted atmosphere, pleasant scents and soft lighting, the air brimming with something tender and raw.

he spent all day preparing this. planning out every single meal, waiting for jin to arrive with the scented candles and flowers, cleaning the kitchen until not a single speck of dust remained. cathartic, to immerse himself into cooking for you, cutting tofu and vegetables into little cubes and slices, fiddling with the temperature settings and watching blue flames lick at the stove like hungry snakes. gutting the fish he bought fresh from the market, dipping large shrimps into boiling oil. there’s something powerful about it, something he can’t quite put his finger on. something that makes him feel at ease.

and it’s tender — the act of creation, of feeding someone you care for. he didn’t appreciate that part of the process until you came into his life. he didn’t truly love cooking, either.

(he doubts he’ll ever tell you, but he won’t ever stop being grateful for that.)

you continue to eat, sipping from the soup, dipping sushi into soy sauce, munching at the tempura, humming happily to yourself. you look so pleased, so content, like the cat that got the cream. sukuna watches. his eyes stay glued to your fingers, the way you hold your chopsticks, the grain of rice that sticks to the corner of your lip after a particularly big bite. his ears stay keen, intent on picking up on every little joyous hum behind your teeth. even while eating, he’s feeding off your reactions; every expression you bless him with.

he fell in love with the way you eat many years ago.

”so good,” you moan, closing your eyes in pure bliss, and he has to take a sip of his tea to cover the smug smile on his face.

”make sure to finish what’s on your plate,” is all he says, but the honeyed note in his voice gives his satisfaction away. awfully pleased by your approval. ”i made dessert, too.”

at that, your eyes light up even further, swirling with something excited and sweet, and he fails to hold back an amused little huff.

the evening continues. you eat your fill, warm soup and fried food and sugary ice cream, and promptly fall asleep on the couch in the middle of a romcom he only watches for your commentary. snoozing on his shoulder, all tuckered out. always so sleepy after eating. he brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the tips of his fingers gliding across your soft skin. he spares a moment to admire you, under the soft glow of the living room lights — unable to shake away that greedy vein beneath his skin. if it was possible, he’d admire you forever.

but there’s no way you’d ever manage to sit still for so long, so he carries you to bed instead. big, strong, tattooed arms, lifting you up with ease, like a baby bird in the maw of a rottweiler. handling you with the utmost care, tucking you in under the covers, leaning forward to press a single kiss between your brows —

and then you smile.

…

sukuna stills. he watches you, watches you, watches you, every single miniscule motion of your stiff facial features. 

then he pinches your cheek.

”owww!”

your eyes flutter open, flashing with betrayal, and sukuna only gives you that signature click of his tongue. ”did you really think you could trick me so easily?”

”i did! you carried me here!” your lips fall into a petulant frown, as you scramble to sit up straight against the fluffy pillows. he only rolls his eyes.

”i wanted to appease you,” he says, and you almost fall for it because it’s not quite a lie. ”such a brat. can’t even walk on your own, huh?”

”well, pardon me for wanting my sweet fiancé to hold me.”

”i hold you all the time.”

”it’s not the same,” you sigh, two little shakes of your head. ”whatever. you wouldn't get it.”

sukuna quirks a brow, but doesn’t push it. instead, he releases the slightest exhale, eyes blooming with amusement, his palm finding its way to your tousled hair. smoothing down your skull.

”go back to sleep,” he beckons, softly, almost hypnotically. his voice is at its most tender when it’s late at night; a little too exhausted to sharpen his syllables properly. ”i’ll hold you later.”

”… you’re not joining me?” you ask, eyes filling with confusion, and he feels a slight tug at his heart — a little string that ties him to you. 

”i need to plan next week’s meals,” he mutters, watching as you furrow your brows, meeting his gaze with a pair of disappointed puppy dog eyes. 

you know he’s weak to them.

”don’t pout,” he scoffs, looking away for the briefest little moment. weak. ”i'll do it quickly.”

”you always say that,” comes a heavy sigh. you bundle up the covers with your fists, shooting him a bitter little glance. ”but it always takes forever.”

”don’t complain,” he tuts. tilting his head, pink locks falling across his forehead, his maroon eyes. ”haven’t i pampered you enough tonight?”

at that, you fall silent. still pouting.

he tries not to feel bad. he wants to sleep with you; but he can’t. sunday nights are for meal planning. they have been since you first moved in together, and he’s not planning to put a fork in the road of his carefully nurtured routine anytime soon. he needs to make sure you eat balanced meals, get all the vitamins you need — it’s practically life and death.

still, it itches at him. the way you gnaw at your bottom lip, curl in on yourself. you look sleepy and disappointed, and the bed looks empty, which only makes you look smaller in comparison. you look small and lonely and sad. it makes him wish he could unhinge his jaw and swallow you whole; keep you tucked between his ribs, where you'll be warm and safe.

(he brushes the thought away.)

for a moment, he’s entirely still. then his pinkie twitches, beckoning him to you. there it goes, again — that invisible string. he takes a step forward, crouching down to meet you at eye level. 

”… sorry,” he breathes, barely above a whisper. the word feels foreign on his tongue, but he swallows the discomfort. ”i’ll hurry. you have my word.”

you blink.

then you’re smiling, again. flipping to your side, sluggishly, just to face him fully. ”’kay.” you reach out for his hand. ”don’t complain if i’m knocked out when you get back, though.”

he looks at your intertwined fingers, brushing his thumb across your skin, a hum buzzing in his throat. affectionate, despite his teasing. ”i wont have to listen to your nightly tangents, then.”

”you love my nightly tangents!”

a snort pushes past his lips. ”sure,” he smirks, ever so slightly, snarky enough to make it sound like a lie. because he does love them. he loves hearing your voice turn delirious, all sleepy and dreamy with fatigue, loves your stupid questions and even stupider answers. he loves being kept awake on nights when he feels too stiff to sleep, when he knows he’s going to have that dream again; a dream of crumbling buildings and burning flesh, of moonlight on asphalt and blood underneath a young boy’s fingernails. a dream where he looks at you and feels nothing but apathy.

(far more grueling than any of the bloodshed.)

sukuna does love your nightly tangents. they chase those ghosts away, ground him back to a sweetened life, one that smells of cinnamon and sunlight and ripe fruit. but you don’t need to know that. so he doesn’t say it — he keeps it locked behind his teeth, under his tongue. 

he squeezes your palm. 

and then he’s rising to his feet. you follow him with your eyes, blinking drowsily, cheek smooshed against the soft mattress. he resists an uncharacteristic coo.

you muster up a sweetened grin, teeth shining like stars. ”g’night, honey. don’t stay up too late, okay?”

he hums. a silent i won’t. there are some things he won’t speak aloud, because he knows you’ll hear them anyway. ”pleasant sleep,” he murmurs, raising a hand up to card through his hair. blinking away the fatigue — until a soft bout of laughter spills from out your throat.

”pleasant sleep?” you echo, grin teetering on something mischievous, a sleepy snort pushing past your lips. ”what are you, a fucking vampire?”

sukuna blinks.

then he’s clicking his tongue, that familiar sound, and pushing your face into the fluffy pillow on your bed — muffling your little giggles. gentle, his large palm on the back of your head. affectionate. ”behave,” he tuts, but he’s grinning. your giggles don’t fade away, even when he’s turning on his heel and walking out of your bedroom. 

”sweet dreams, count dracula!” 

”you’re not getting any breakfast tomorrow.”

ignoring your muffled, distressed whine, sukuna hides a fond smile behind his palm. biting down on his bottom lip to keep it at bay — absently deciding what to make for your breakfast tomorrow. pancakes or waffles? maybe he’ll skip the vanilla ice cream, this time. just to teach you a lesson.

when he returns, forty minutes later, you’re fast asleep. curled up under the covers, drool slipping down your bottom lip. he tucks you into his neck, and mouths them into your ear — three little words, always those same little words, never quite spoken in more than a whisper, as if he fears his voice would break under their pressure. but his breath fans against the shell of your ear, and you absently nuzzle into your arms. as if you understand. that silent language between you.

he wonders if you realize, if you’ll ever realize, just how much you mean to him.

sukuna doesn’t tell you that he loves you, but you know. you know, because it’s in everything he does.

you know that he loves you because he actually allows you into his kitchen, when anyone else would be chased out with a pitchfork. because he doesn’t push you away when you wrap your arms around his waist, over his cream-coloured apron, even though you know it distracts him while he’s cooking dinner — only ever clicking his tongue or making a noise of disapproval, placing a palm over your forearm. muttering little harmless grumbles of it’s like you want to get first degree oil burns.

you know that he loves you because you’re always the first to taste his food, without fail, the first person he goes to when he tries a new recipe. and you appreciate it, even when you joke about how honoured you are to test your king’s meals for poison. he quirks a brow and threatens to take the food away, sure, but then there’s always that one flicker of amusement in the amber of his eyes. 

you know because he grills his dumplings extra on both sides, just how you like it, because he forms his onigiri into pandas just to see you smile. because he knows how to make your perfect cup of coffee by heart, and refuses to use anything less than an absurdly expensive coffee machine, beans he grinded into powder with his own two hands. because he believes you deserve nothing but the best, nothing less than the finest delicacies this world has to offer. wholeheartedly.

you know that he loves you because it’s there. you can feel it, in every stolen glance, every slight smile when you finally dig in. in the way the cutlet melts on your tongue, the way the bitter espresso runs down your throat, the warmth that blossoms in your chest when you catch him watching you with the faintest glimmer of a content smile. 

a silent declaration, a hymn you can always hear if you strain your ears enough —

i love you, i love you, i love you.

[cupidkenji]

If you think I'm pretty

Pairing: Homelander x afab!reader CW: fingering, praise, slightly OOC homie, threats of captivity (he says hes gonna keep reader in the penthouse that's it I promise it's not genuine), cursing, sub!reader, porn without plot (I think this is applicable), they're in a relationship before this, reader says 'John' cause moaning homelander is funny as fuck Summary: Being a perfectionist, you're unsatisfied with a recent test score. Homelander has a cure for that. Disclaimer: reader is always thought to be chubby/fat but there are no physical descriptors here, just an FYI WC: 1,955 Genuinely idk I'd like to apologize for this. I fell out of my Criminal Minds hyperfixation like months ago and haven't written since so I'm really rusty. This is 100% a self-insert but reader is gn and not described other than the fact that they're AFAB. Also this was only proof read once so please point out typos if you see them <3

Your mother used to scold you for being too hard on yourself. Her face is virtually the only thing you can picture as your screen burns your eyes a bit. It’s too early for the high brightness of the device, having woken up before the sun could reintroduce your eyes to light. You’d set yourself up to wake slightly after midnight, intending to check the score of a huge test you’d taken months ago and simply go back to sleep in a matter of minutes. A rather stupid plan, in hindsight. You were questioning now if you knew yourself at all. Your phone had nearly been in your hand when you felt the cold burn of anxiety in your lungs. This test was a huge fucking deal. You were a hardcore perfectionist on top of that, trying with countless futile attempts to surrender your idea of the model score. You just needed to pass, not get your professor to memorialize you in marble for your pure genius. You’d gotten up instead of turning on your phone, brushing your teeth and making your bed before pacing the room slightly while you thought. Essentially, you were just allowing the mantra of ‘cope’ to bound back and forth between your ears for a couple minutes. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cope with the disappointment of a lesser score, or you were telling yourself to come down a couple pegs and be happy with getting by. The repetition of the word soothed that icy-hot feeling that had festered from your lungs to your fingertips, and you checked.

You were fine. Not the score you wanted, but you were fine. 

Mentally you writhed against the slump of your shoulders, but the weight of this self-inflicted shortcoming hit harder than you were capable of defending yourself from. The long sigh you let out was all frost as the tension left your airways. How underwhelming. You laid down on the bed you’d made not ten minutes ago, hearing the window slide open a few seconds into your pity party. You normally left it unlocked for him, knowing if anyone else attempted to enter your home, he wasn’t far. He told you himself that he seemed to have tuned into you specifically; swearing he’d be able to hear you on the other side of the city if you needed him.

“It’s way too early for you to already be having a bad day. The sun’s not even up.” He was closer now, fully sealed into your space and approaching you with comfortable footsteps. You never fully got over the irony of seeing America’s greatest hero flying through your window in sweatpants. “What’s wrong?” You always noticed the subtle way he changed how he spoke around you. In every interview or interaction you’d ever witnessed of his, he’d spoken like a character. For a man who hated having his words scripted, he spoke the same as every cookie-cutter movie he’d starred in. He didn’t talk that way with you, something you hoped was subconscious. A demonstration of the safety he felt around you.

You shrugged in response to the question. You acknowledged the trivial nature of your feelings, knowing you probably reeked of sadness to him but attempting to downplay it anyways. “Bad test score.”

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, allowing you the space to remain sprawled out. “Doubtful.” He laughed slightly as he said it, shaking his head and smiling. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing minorly. “What’d you get?”

“A four.”

“What were you hoping to get?”

Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, knowing he would pick it up but also trying to spare yourself the rush of immaturity hearing yourself speak would bring. “A five.”

He sighed - a sigh full of endearment that his eyes reflected as he looked at you. You told him once that his eyes were the first thing you’d noticed. It was sunny the day you’d met, and they looked practically ethereal. You’d seen such chaos reflected in them even from day one. The masses called him ‘soulless’ often, but you couldn’t understand such an accusation from anyone who had ever seen him. His eyes were practically overflowing with soul, every time you looked at him it was all you saw. They were capable of incredibly dangerous things but they were so entrancing. He was so fucking enticing. 

You broke the eye contact, but he nudged your leg and moved his head to try and follow your eyes. “Hey-” He called for your attention, so you looked back at him. “You know that’s a good score, right?”

You smiled small at him. “No- I know. I’m just…I don’t know- strict with myself.” You found it hard to put into words. You knew you’d done well, but the ability to feel pride felt withheld from you. Like your eyes bore into it but your mind refused to distribute the feeling it brought to something tangible.

“I think you’re just too much of a fucking perfectionist.” His hand was splayed across your upper thigh from where he sat. No matter which part of you he touched, he had a grip that made your head spin. He was so sure of himself, the strength demonstrated from such an unassuming form never lost the novelty that it’d held when you met him. “Can’t let yourself admit when you did good.”

You tried to be dismissive, but it was hard to fake anything with a man like him. “As if you aren’t, John.” His jaw got the slightest bit tighter at the use of his name. Such a miniscule action that easily dodges the eyes of people who aren’t looking. You couldn’t really imagine not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” His face was still relaxed, but the expression in his eyes had shifted. His pupils dilated and his full attention was on you. “You did good.”

The only con of being with somebody with abilities such as his was the lack of secrecy. You used to laugh with your friends about how grateful you were for the discrete nature of arousal when living without certain body parts. That went out the window when you started seeing him. He knew the second anything shifted within you. He had every perversion you’d ever dreamt about practically categorized by the time your two month anniversary had rolled around. One of his favorite pastimes was casually working a turn-on into conversation and just watching you squirm.

You fought the urge to pull away from his hand, feeling your stomach drop slightly at a declaration like that. “Thank you.” You looked away from him again. Something you knew he didn’t really like but choosing to try and save face over anything else. 

“Yeah…I don’t know.” You could see his focus on the topic increasing by the second. His disposition was happy, but he held serious and almost threatening undertones. He tightened his grip on your thigh and you looked at back to him, hesitantly following the silent command to keep your eyes up. “I think you should say it.”

“John-” His assertiveness was starting to get to you, it always did. You sat up on your forearms to be a little more level with him but he moved his hand from your thigh to your stomach and pushed you back down. The thought of having to lay there and explicitly state that you did well on your test felt like a kid having to write in repetition on a chalkboard in detention. 

He was looking down at you, the eye contact making you slightly dizzy. His face was kind, it almost always was when he was around you, but the conversation was derailing. “I just think it’s important that you understand this.” He was so good at making you want what he thought was best.

You inhaled, swallowing your pride and licking your lips. “What do you want me to say?”

That familiar, condescending smile was starting to creep onto his lips. “Just tell the truth.” His eyebrows raised slightly in a silent prompt. “Say you did good.”

His hand was descending from your stomach, making it’s way to the hemline of your underwear. You hadn’t bothered to change out of what you were sleeping in, only now realizing the vulnerability of it. You held your tongue for a moment, breathing out a quiet “I did good.” 

He tore the only fabric between his hand and you off your body as easily as ripping a sheet of paper and leaned in a little more. “Say it again.”

“John-” You said it as barely an exhale as he skimmed his hand over you. You hadn’t even registered just how sensitive or how wet you’d gotten in the few minutes you were talking to him.

“I don’t know why you act so fucking noble. You should be running Ashleys around in circles or giving interns your coffee order. Not any of this testing bullshit that you’re too good for anyway.” His tone elevated to that mocking, cocky tone that swept into the most shame filled crevices of your mind and tugged the most deprived parts into the driver seat. He thumbed at your clit while he spoke, increasing and decreasing the pressure whenever he felt like it and effectively snatching any remaining ability to form coherent thought from your grabbing hands. “You’ve been chosen by a God, honey. You can do anything, I can give you anything.” He got breathier as he spoke, seemingly soaking up the desperation you were excreting and matching it in a tenfold.

You felt two of his fingers enter you effortlessly and you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his arm. You always felt the power imbalance most in times like these. A feeling like pulling an angel away from heaven just for yourself, combing through it’s wings with your fingers or trying to lap up a fraction of that status in a wildly inappropriate disregard for the natural roles of nature. He was so much more than you, but he just wanted you to feel good. You swore under your breath as he started circles on your clit. He never got hand cramps, never got tired. He would go until you couldn’t anymore.

“That’s it.” He had barely said it, more just exhaled the assurance under his breath. You were close, you’re sure he could feel it. “Gonna move you to my penthouse. Keep you braindead and needy.”

 It shouldn’t have hit you the way it did. Considering who he was, he could easily fulfill that promise with nobody at Vought even thinking twice. It was the way he said it, the way he acts. Always needing control and always right. The most powerful man alive spent his time fantasizing about control over you, and your stomach twisted in disgust at how badly it got you off.

He slowed his movements as your high declined. He was breathing heavy, but your heart was beating like a drum. He had the smallest smile on his face like the sound gave him a sense of satisfaction. You rose to your forearms, this time with no protest from him, and watched him stand up. He held the back of your head with the hand that wasn’t nearly dripping and kissed the top of your head. It was chaste and quick, but the domesticity of it made your throat ache. He uttered something about getting a towel to clean up, stating he’d be right back before exiting the room. 

You rushed the words out before he could leave. “But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He just waved you off. “I just thought you deserved a little reward.”

[mistiell]

When you're lost in the Darkness

Pairing: Astarion x Reader

Summary: Astarion suspects that you're afraid of the dark. What he doesn't know, is that not only will he soon be proven right, but he severely underestimated just how severe your fear is.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, hurt/comfort, nyctophobia, brief description of panic attack, possibly ooc Astarion, literally one use of y/n

A/N: Hey hi hello, I am back from the void for now. I would like to make a disclamier: I have not yet played BG3!! So, if anyone is out of character, I apologize!

---

Astarion has a theory.

A small and rather unimportant one, but a theory nonetheless.

It started when he noticed the way you set up your bed roll when the group makes camp for the night. You’re always as close to the fire as you can be without lighting yourself aflame, and when it dims to a certain point, he’s watched you rouse out of a dead sleep to stoke the coals and add more fuel. At first, he thought perhaps you were just prone to chills – he knows some people run cold when they sleep – but after lingering after one of your shared nights together, he came to realise that you’re actually more like a mostly-human furnace.

Then he noticed the way you linger around any sort of light source like a moth to a flame after the sun has set, and the way you fidget and glance over you shoulder every few minutes on the off chance your back is to the darkness.

He finds it strange. Granted, he thinks you’re strange for a variety of other reasons, but this pattern of behaviour is particularly puzzling to him. Which has lead him to his theory;

“You’re afraid of the dark.” He jests after watching you glance into the woods for the umpteenth time, aiming for teasing and realising he’s missed when your face falls into something akin to shame and discomfort.

You try to cover it with a scoff, rolling your eyes in a way he knows is meant to feign indifference, “I have far worse things to fear than the dark.” You spit those last two words, as if they taste bitter on your tongue. Firelight dances in your eyes as you keep your gaze trained firmly on him, even despite how much you look like you want too search for whatever it is you’ve convinced yourself is out there, intent on disproving him.

“True,” He smirks with a practiced ease, suddenly – strangely – desperate to ease the tension he’s just created, “But should you ever find yourself too afraid to sleep alone,” He leans in just a smidgen closer, grinning coquettishly, “My arms are always open.”

You snort, the tension in your shoulders ebbing just so as you chuckle, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“By all means, keep me in your thoughts as long as you wish, darling.” He hums, smile just a little softer than he intends when you genuinely laugh at that, the sound sweet and airy as it bubbles up from your throat.

“And with that, I’m off to bed.” He nearly mistakes incredulousness for fondness, but catches himself as you stand. Turning back for just a moment, you give him a smile so soft, it makes is gut twist with a feeling he’s a little unsure of, “Goodnight, Astarion.”

If he’d fed more recently, he’s sure his cheeks would be flushed. He blinks, clears his throat, “Sleep well, my sweet.”

Only days later, his theory is proven correct when you stumble upon some sort of abandoned cottage – House? Astarion’s not entirely sure – and, upon Gale’s insistence that it could be useful, decide to search it for wares.

“You do know there’s likely nothing of use in here, don’t you?” Shadowheart sighs impassively as she thumbs through a tattered book, slotting it back into place where she found it once she’s deemed it useless.

Gale huffs and rolls his eyes, “Well, we won’t know until we look, will we?”

“We won’t be finding much of anything if you two don’t quit your squabbling.” You quip before turning your attention back to the chest you were searching. You just barely lean into Astarion’s space, grinning impishly. He leans in just a little closer – only to hear you better, of course – as you whisper, “They’re like children, I tell you.”

Something shatters. You both turn just as Shadowheart fixes Gale with a stern look, “Hells, Gale, pay attention to where you’re going!”

“Wh- It’s not my fault!” Astarion raises a brow at their bickering, tutting amusedly, “Children, indeed.”

Huffing a laugh, your attention slides to a door on the far side of the room and move to investigate. After trying the handle and finding it jammed, it takes a good shove to get it open. The only thing that illuminates the small pantry is the light filtering in from the door you’ve just opened.

You seem content to simply skim over the contents of the room from where you’re standing until you spot something of interest, eyes lighting up with a little gasp.

Astarion takes your place in the doorway as you rush into the room after propping the door open with a nearby pail, curious, “What have you found?”

Snatching a little tin box off a shelf, you open it and beam, “Oh, I haven’t had this in ages!”

“What?” He asks again, a little impatient.

You hold it out to him, and when he comes closer to look over the lip of the tin, he finds a fair amount of shredded, aubergine coloured leaves inside.

He looks back to you, confused, “Tea?” “Tea.” You grin, holding it up to your nose and closing your eyes to revel in the fruity scent, “I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s delicious.”

With how delighted you are over finding it, he doesn’t doubt it.

“Well, at least we can tell the others our searching wasn’t in vain.” He turns, “Settle that dispute between Gale and Shadowhear-.” The toe of his boot bumps the pail, sending it rolling as the door swings shut and swathes the room in darkness.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, but eventually, the door comes back into view, only now the faded sage green paint is a dull grey.

Just as he moves for the door, he’s startled by the clattering of metal and a loud bump. He whips around to ask what in the hells just happened, but the words die in his throat when he finds you pressed flat against the shelves on the far wall – which really isn’t that far considering there’s only about six feet between the two of you. He can hear your heart racing from where he’s standing, your breaths quick and shallow.

That theory he had just got a lot more important.

He calls your name and you flinch, gaze flitting in his general direction but never settling on him. You look well and truly petrified. “Darling, are you alright?”

It’s a terrible question considering you are very visibly not alright, but he can’t seem to come up with anything else fast enough.

“I can’t–.” Your voice cracks and you swallow, looking dreadfully close to tears as you squeeze your eyes shut and cover your face with your hands, “I can’t see you. I can’t see anything.”

“Hang on,” After trying the handle, he finds the door is jammed no matter how hard he yanks. He considers calling for Karlach or Wyll, but thinks better of it, not wanting to frighten you further. They’ll notice the two of you are missing and come looking eventually.

“Astarion.” His name from your lips pulls him from his thoughts. He usually loves hearing you say his name, even when your cross with him. But when it comes out like a pitiful mix between whisper and whimper, he finds his heart twists uncomfortably in his chest.

He turns back to you and stalls. Unsure, helpless. He wants desperately to comfort you, but he has no idea how. He goes over the many different ways he could try, and the many different ways you could react, before finally, “Tell me what you need.”

After a moment of hesitation, you hold out a trembling hand and he steps forward to take it without a second thought. You tense when his skin first meets yours, palms wet with tears as your breath hitches. You tug him closer to wrap your arms around his middle and cling to him like a lifeline, shaking terribly as you bury your face into his neck. He secures you to him with an arm around your back and a hand cupped over the nape of your neck. He can feel your heartbeat stuttering under his fingertips when they settle over your pulse.

You’re still gasping.

“You need to breathe, lovely.” He says it gently, voice void of his usual coquettish flare. The nickname is softer than what he’s used with you so far, and it feels and sounds more earnest than it should. He tries not to dwell on it as he soothes his palm up and down the length of your spine, “Try to mimic me. I’ll guide you, alright?” You nod, and when starts coaching you through each inhale and exhale, you do your best to follow.

It takes several breaths, but eventually, they grow deeper and stop catching in your chest. Your heart slows. Not by a lot, but enough that Astarion can stop worrying that you’ll work yourself into a panic induced fainting spell.

He guides you through a few more before asking, “Better?”

You nod. With your throat dried out from crying, your voice is rather croak-y when you reply, “A little.”

“You sound like a frog.” It startles a laugh from you, the sound letting Astarion breathe a little easier.

“I do!” You sniffle, still laughing. It makes him laugh too.

“What the hells is so funny in there?” Lae’zel shouts from the other side with all her usual charm.

“Frogs!” Astarion shouts back, and you giggle a little more.

There’s a few loud bangs as one of your friends attempts to open the door. He can feel you flinch with each one until finally, it bursts open, blessed light washing over the two of you despite Karlach towering in the doorway. Your body sags with relief, and a little, involuntary sound escapes you as a new wave of tears threatens to spill, this time for an entirely different reason.

“What happened in here?” Gale asks, looking wildly confused as you slip out of Astarion’s arms and wipe at your cheeks hastily. “Oh, erm,” You clear your throat awkwardly, gaze bouncing between the items the fell when you backed into the shelf before settling on the tea leaves. You look genuinely disappointed as you gesture vaguely towards the small pile on the floor, “I found a tea I really like and got upset when I dropped it.”

“Ah. I see.” Gale nods, still obviously perplexed. If any of them find the explanation odd, they don’t say anything.

Shadowheart leans around Karlach, “We should get a move on. There are only so many hours before sundown.”

“Right. Yes, that’s a good idea.” You nod, clearly thankful for an excuse to get the hell out of there as you squeeze past them and lead them outside.

Much to Astarion’s chagrin, Karlach turns when she notices he’s hung back, “Oi, Astarion. What are you doing?”

He glances between her and the pantry before huffing, “Just... Tell them to wait a moment.”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously but agrees, leaving him to tell you and the others. He makes his way back into the pantry for a moment before jogging outside to join you.

It’s a good few hours until you make camp, and another few before he finally plucks up the courage to approach you near your tent.

You notice him striding over and smile at the sight of him, “Astarion! To what to I owe the pleasure?”

“I come bearing gifts.” He announces dramatically, hoping his puckish grin will be enough to mask how incredibly fucking nervous he truly is.

“For me?” You ask, cocking your head slightly to one side.

He rolls his eyes playfully, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, would I?”

“Well obviously, I just meant–,” You huff and shake your head, chuckling incredulously, “Never mind. What have you got for me?”

He holds out the tin and watches surprise and confusion flash over your face in quick succession before something unbearably soft settles over your features.

Taking it from him, you’re quick to pop the lid off. You gasp when you lay eyes on the contents, eyes wide when you look back at him with such wonder, it nearly knocks the wind out of him, “How did you–?”

“I salvaged what I could off the top of the pile. I– erm,” He clears his throat, “I thought it would be wasteful to leave perfectly good tea behind when at least one of us could enjoy what’s left of it. Irresponsible, even.”

You huff a laugh. There’s no mistaking the fondness this time.

“You’re absolutely right. That would be irresponsible of us.” Your smile shifts into something heart achingly earnest as you step closer and lean up to peck his cheek, “Thank you.”

“Of course, love.” He’s aiming for coquettish but it comes out too sincere to be convincing. That feeling twists at his chest again and it’s only now that he realises what it is.

He actually, genuinely cares for you.

Rattled, he feigns a yawn and smirks, “Well, as much as I adore your company, I really must be off to bed. Beauty sleep, and all that.”

“Right!” You seem to startle yourself with your own volume and clear your throat, chuckling awkwardly, “Right, of course. Goodnight, Astarion.”

He takes a mere second to mull it over before he throws caution to the wind and cradles the side of your neck in his palm, thumb brushing the curve of your jaw as he presses his lips to the apple of your opposite cheek. Before he takes time to actually think over his new found feelings and potentially freak himself out, he’s going to let himself indulge in you just a little while longer.

Pulling back, he brushes the back of his knuckles over the skin he just kissed, “Goodnight, Y/n.”

He can hear your heart thump, thump, thumping as he walks towards his own tent. The feelings he has for you are a new and rather inconvenient development. But if later he finds that he doesn’t particularly mind?

No one has to know just yet.

[stardust-kenobi]

Nerves

Crosshair x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, soft and slightly ooc Crosshair (not much though, I think he really is a softy)

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: You'd been helping Crosshair work on his aim after his traumatic experience being held captive by the Empire. After not much progress, you get into a heated discussion when he tries to give up, which turns even more heated after he admits his feelings for you.

Read on AO3

“Try it again” You paced behind his stoic stance, doing your best to encourage him without showing any sign of your very present empathy. The slow-setting Pabu sun would still provide you both with another hour of visibility. The amber glow warmed your skin, which was a welcomed change of environment from being cramped on the ship for days on end. 

“Why?” Crosshair growled, fueled by the burning rage built up by his defeat. The tremble in his fingertips broke your heart, but you could see that he’d made progress from the exercises. It was slow, sure, but there were definitely improvements. T

“Because I said so. You won’t make any progress if you don’t keep trying” You emphasized, doing your best not to express your impatience with his pessimism. 

“It’s useless, Y/N” He lowered his blaster from his shaking hand and let it fall from his grasp before lowering himself to sit on the rock beneath him. You sighed, but this time your breath didn’t hold any frustration, only disappointment in his self-defeat. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d been through, and you still didn’t know the extent of the torture he’d endured. Months had passed since he and Omega escaped. Omega had worked with him a few times, mostly with meditation, but you were better skilled with blasters and aim. 

Crosshair held his head low, focusing his vision on the sand beneath his sore feet. You joined him without another word, sitting next to him on the rocks that scattered the shore. There were no words to comfort him in this moment, so you opted out of a conversation this time. The breeze from the ocean enveloped your frame, almost as if pushing you closer to Crosshair. 

The seconds passed. Then minutes. All the while you soaked in each other’s company, for good or for bad. He was growing annoyed with you lately, despite being one of his closest friends, all because you were insistent upon helping to heal his trauma from his captivity with the Empire. 

As the moments passed, Crosshair never tried to leave his spot next to you. He didn’t push you away this time. This, you decided, was an achievement. 

The half-hidden sun drifted slowly below the horizon, replaced then by a casting a blue-toned light from the rising moon. It was peaceful, sitting together, communicating without saying a word. 

“I’ll probably head back soon. We’ll try again tomorrow” You spoke gently when breaking the silence.

“I’m done” Crosshair spoke softly, his tone was firm and assured. 

“Cross-” You sighed.

“I said I’m done” He reiterated, interrupting your plea. 

“You’re just going to give up?” You scoffed. 

“Seems so” He shrugged. 

You crossed your arms to your chest and stood in front of him now, staring at him in disappointment.

“You can stand there all night if you’d like. I’m not changing my mind” He muttered, finally looking up to meet your gaze. 

You pondered your next breath, but ultimately fell short on your words. With a subtle nod in his direction, you began walking away from your peaceful corner on the beach. 

“I’m sorry for what they did to you, Crosshair. But you can’t punish yourself forever” You spoke calmly as the distance between you grew. 

“What did you say?” He sneered, turning his body toward you, still sitting on the rock. 

You froze in your tracks. You’d struck a nerve. Good. 

“You heard me”

He slowly stood up and turned to you, “You think it’s my fault that I’m not improving?”

“You are improving, Crosshair. But, you’re giving up too easily”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about”

“I care about you, Crosshair. Believe it or not, I do. I know you’re not used to that but…you’re going to have to get used to it because I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not giving up on you”

His eyes grew subtly sorrowful as he stared into you, absorbing your words slowly. His head drifted from your gaze over to the open water that was now glistening in the moonlight.

“It's..my nerves” He said shamefully.

“Okay…” You tried to understand what he meant. Maybe you’d been pushing him too hard “Would it help if we took a break for a few d-”

“You. You make me…nervous” He admitted with a loud sigh trailing the end of his words like he had to force himself to say it. 

As you pondered what he’d just said, your heart fluttered with unexpected excitement. 

“What? How do I make you nervous?” You breathed out with what was almost a chuckle. 

“Forget it” he scoffed, picking up his blaster and turning back toward the island, passing you in the process. You grab his arm to stop him. He doesn’t resist even though your gentle touch should not have stopped him in his tracks, but it did tonight. 

“No. Tell me what you mean.” You demanded. 

Crosshair contemplated it for a second before yanking his arm from your grasp, “You really want to know? Fine”.

He looked toward the island as if to check and make sure you were alone. 

“I can’t…I can’t think around you. I can’t focus” He lowered his head,”I’ve tried to ignore how I feel around you, but it’s been just as useless as you training me”

For the first time in a long time, you were speechless. Crosshair was not a man of many words, nor was he one to express his feelings.

“Crosshair-” You tried to answer but he was uninterested in your counter argument. What he didn’t know was that there was no counter argument to be had. 

“Don’t. Just don’t” He groaned.

“I love you” You hurriedly responded spitting it out like it was stuck on your tongue. You laid  it all out plainly and simply. You loved him. You had for months. 

Crosshair’s expression held a look of pure disbelief that quickly transformed to warmth and content.

Your longing gaze pierced through his tough exterior. Something ignited within you as a tension pulled you into him, leaving hardly any room between the two of you

“I…” You whispered softly, but lost yourself in his eyes.

Without another breath, Crosshair curled his finger beneath your chin, pulling your lips up to meet his.

Nothing this electrifying had ever grazed your skin before. His lips pressed passionately against yours as if he’d waited years to do this. You leaned into him, resting your hands on his shoulders as your mouths became intertwined so rhythmically. 

Every fantasy you’d ever had of a moment like this that had always been shoved to the back of your mind came flooding back. Never did you think he’d feel the same way, but everything about his lips on yours just felt right. His finger beneath your chin trembled, and you were unsure how much it was from the overwhelming nerves of kissing you or the already present shake in his hands. You wrapped your hand around his, intertwining your fingers to calm him. The kiss was deep and raw, devouring each other as the motions intensified. A warmth spread through your body while your heart nearly lept from your chest. 

Slowly and hesitantly, you pulled away from the kiss to look up into his uncertain gaze. 

“You have no idea how long I have wanted to do that” He whispered, and a smile crept upon his face. Something rare and welcome that you never saw too often with him. 

“Me too” You smiled back, holding his hands in yours.

You wasted no more time before pulling him for another kiss. It was heavy and breathless. Your hands wandered from his to the firm muscles on his chest. Crosshair let his hands wander, too, until they hovered gently above your breasts. 

“Touch me” You breathed in between the motions of your lips. 

Your permission was all he needed. His hands explored your body like he was lost in the dark. Like he was starving for you. The boulders on this corner area of the beach kept you hidden in your own oasis, with very little concern of being discovered. Your fingertips found the hem of his black shirt, and tugged at it gently. 

“Here?” He pondered. 

“Why not?” You smirked. He nodded and helped you remove his shirt, revealing his battle scars and perfectly carved muscle. You admired it, trailing your hands down his abdomen. 

Conveniently, you had a blanket in your satchel that you brought with you. Crosshair rushed over to lay it out. He then took your hand in his and guided you to it.

“Lay down,” He instructed. As you did so, he hovered above you, his lips exploring your exposed neck and chest just above the neckline of your dress. You whimpered softly, unable to contain yourself even with the slightest of his touch.

His nervous touch was endearing as he traced up your thigh, searching for your most sensitive area. You shuffled your hips a bit, encouraging him to keep going 

“Are you sure?” He asked, his brows furrowed. It was a look of longing, concern, and desperation all in one. Crosshair needed you, but wouldn’t dare touch you like this without assurance. 

“Yes,” You breathed. 

He pulled your panties down, and you lifted your hips to help him remove them completely. 

He returned his fingers to your aching heat and discovered your arousal for him, which earned a small whimper from his lips. Crosshair knew exactly what he wanted to do to you. He’d surely thought about it enough in his head while he sat alone in his quarters, pumping himself to the fantasy of having you in his grasp like this. But, he was letting his nerves get the better of him now, and felt weary about how he’d perform for you. 

“Cross, please” You begged with a tone of reassurance. His hand rested on your thigh, just beneath where you craved his touch.

You felt his hand tremble subtly against your skin.

“Hey,” You started, pulling his attention to you, “it's just me and you” 

He nodded and kissed you hard, letting himself dive into you again, and found his fingers sliding through the wetness between your legs. He rubbed your clit in delicate circles and you bucked your hips up into his touch. He found a perfect rhythm and responded to your body’s signals as he felt them. 

“Maker…You’re so wet for me” He muttered in total awe of the effect he’d had on you. Looking down to your exposed cunt as the bottom of your dress now rested against your abdomen. Suddenly his middle finger found its way to your entrance and slid inside, pumping slowly and pushing you to the edge while his thumb kept working at your clit. 

Crosshair was propped on his side next to you, and instinctively ground his hips against your body, overcome with his desire to feel friction. He added another finger inside and fucked you as you rolled your hips into his hand. Each thrust of his curled digits grazed your most sensitive spot against your walls. A tingling sensation bundled and tightened in your lower belly, pushing you closer to your climax. 

“Don’t stop” You begged, and he listened.

“Come for me, darling” He instructed, which sent chills down your body. Hearing him say something so arousing was unfamiliar but absolutely intoxicating. 

With his lips at your neck and his fingers working eagerly inside of you, your release was so close now. Your senses were deliciously overwhelmed. 

“Crosshair” You cried his name before rolling your eyes into the back of your head, seeing stars, overwhelmed with the pleasure that flowed through your body as your orgasm overcame you. Your hips rolled up into his body still hovered above you and your back arched in response to the sensational feeling radiating through you. Your fingers dug into his arm but he never slowed his pace. Crosshair was absolutely infatuated with watching you fall apart for him. You came down from your euphoric high slowly, catching your breath in the process. 

“Are you alright?” He whispered. This was a side of him you never expected. You knew he could be caring and kind when he wanted to be, but seeing that translated to handling your body was a pleasant surprise. Your cunt hopelessly clenched around the emptiness as he removed his fingers. 

“Never better. Now, please fuck me” You demanded, chuckling softly. 

“Only because you asked so nicely,” He wasted not another moment before helping you lean up to remove your dress completely. Your breasts fell from the restraint of the fabric and caught his eye immediately. He took them into his hands massaging them gently before bringing his lips to your mounds and kissing them. 

He pulled his pants down just enough to release his length that begged to be touched. You stared in awe of his size. You opened your legs slightly, allowing room for him to adjust himself in between your legs. 

As he lined himself up with your entrance, he looked into your eyes and devoured you with a loving gaze. He kissed you softly before slowly sinking his cock into your wetness.

Crosshair choked on his next breath, your warmth encasing him perfectly as you took his length with ease. Once he bottomed out within you, he whimpered softly and buried his face into your neck. He was slow at first, allowing you to adjust to his size, which you probably needed as he was bigger than you expected. 

“Fuck, Y/N” He cursed, overwhelmed by it all. To be able to take you like this, having you begging for his cock, you writhing beneath him…it was all wonderfully too much, and he loved it. 

“Maker, it feels so good, Cross” You encouraged him. His cock stretched you open with each thrust as he picked up the pace. He fit inside you like you were made for each other, and you felt a closeness and intimacy you’d never experienced before. It was indescribable. 

You held his face in your hands as he thrust into you faster and harder, holding his gaze while you both let profanities and cries of pleasure fly from your lips. If there was anyone nearby, they would have heard you, but it was a remote area, and you could feel safe. Each curl of his hips snapping into you sent your mind and body into a frenzy of pleasure.

“You take me so well, sweetheart” He praised, turning his attention to looking down where he disappeared inside of you. Crosshair was no virgin, but he’d never experienced such intimacy and passion for someone like he did for you in this moment. He wanted this for so long, same as you. The months of lingering glances at one another, your heart racing each time your skin grazed his on the ship, the way you’d cared for him since he’d escaped Tantiss. It was all leading up to this moment of pure desire for one another, and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

“I won’t last much longer” He 

You nodded to assure him it was okay. It was then that you felt another orgasm quickly creeping up on you. He could feel you tightening and knew you were close. 

“Come on my cock, that’s it” He spoke softly, his words sending you over the edge. 

It burst open, washing over your entire body, more captivating and intense than the first release. You dug your nails into the rigid muscles of his back, pulling him into you as he kept his pace. You cried out, feeling overtaken by the pleasure that electrified your entire body. His thrust began to falter and his body shook beneath your fingertips. 

Crosshair’s moans were low and rough as he reached his climax, spilling his release deep inside you, his brows furrowed and face twisted in pleasure. 

You both took time to catch your breath, soaking in the highs you were riding and taking in this feeling of closeness with one another. He was careful to remove himself from you, knowing you were both sensitive. 

He lay beside you, wrapping his arms around your body and pulling you into him.

“I love you too” He said suddenly, confusing you for a moment, before realizing that he was finally responding to your declaration of love to him earlier. 

You smiled up at him and laid your head onto his chest. As you listened to a combination of the gentle waves and the beating of his heart, you felt warm and loved for the first time in a long time.

[veethewriter]

I have a prompt in mind… if you can’t do it tho that’s ok!! My brain has been rotting with scenarios of reader fighting with Astarion and The Gang™️, reader gets gravely injured and Astarion has to choose between letting the love of his life die in front of him or turning them. What happens and how reader reacts is up to u 😉

Of course!! Sorry if astarion is a little ooc....I tried my best. Also requests are open!

He barely had any time to process what had happened before you had fallen to the ground, incredibly injured. They had come out of nowhere it seemed just as you were setting up camp to rest, what seemed like hoards and hoards of goblins. It wouldn't have been a problem usually but you all had been low on supplies recently from all the fighting you've had to do. Not to mention how exhausted you all were from it. Wyll killing most of the ones near him and shadowheart, shadowheart trying to keep him healed.

You and astarion on the other side, fighting as well however taking more damage with no healer. That's when he had heard it, the painful gasp of breath coming from you as your armor had broken and a goblin had been able to stab a sword through the hole in your armor straight into your stomach, into some of your organs. You stabbed the goblin in front of you before falling to the ground yourself from all your injuries.

Filling with uncontrollable anger he quickly killed all the goblins around him before rushing over to you. Calling out the rest of the team as he went over to you. Shadowheart and Wyll rushed over still focused on killing the rest of them while protecting the two of you now. Making sure he's covered, astarion softly held you in his arms trying to not let the tears start seeing how bad you were. You were already unconscious barely breathing and turning pale, he could hear your pulse slowly dying.

He didn't know what he could do, you were bleeding too much even with him keeping the weapon in so you didn't lose more blood and wrapping the other wounds you had. He knew he could just turn you but would you be happy with that, is that what you would want? To become what he is? Would you be upset at him if he did? He didn't want the choice forced on you like it was to him. However he also knew he couldn't go on without you and the rest of the team would need you too. He had to make a decision quick and fast before you did die and it was too late to even turn you...

Caressing your face softly before finally deciding he leaned down and bit you before pulling away, cutting his palm, putting it up to your mouth making sure you drank some of it. Quietly hoping it would work, not even sure he was doing it correctly. You had already stopped breathing as he finished, he pulled the sword out of your wound before picking you up. All speechless still of what had happened they quietly went back to camp. Finally in your tent astarion set you down on the bedroll as shadowheart followed and broke the silence that had been hanging in the air, "Are you sure this is what she would want?".

All astarion can do is look down at you while thinking of what he had done was right before looking at shadowheart, "What would you have done?".

All she could do was sigh before using her magic to hear the wound on your stomach through still leaving a big scar since she had used most of her magic in the battle. As she leaves, astarion stays not leaving your side just with his book trying to distract himself even a little bit, feeling worried and guilty for what he had done....

It had already been a while since the sun had set when you had finally opened your eyes, feeling tired and for some reason very thirsty.... Seeing you finally awake astarion became nervous about how you would react. Astarion sat back down near you as you had sat up, holding your throat, "Astarion, what happened?"

He seemed nervous and very hesitant before grabbing your other hand, holding it softly, "My love, you got greatly injured, shadowheart was out of magic I didn't know what to do...".

You looked confused before you finally felt it, what more now than before permanent bite mark. As you were processing astarion handed you his mirror, confirming what you thought. You had only made astarion more nervous than before with you not saying anything, he quickly tried to explain himself, "I- I'm sorry darling, I just needed-," before being interrupted by you cupping his face softly.

You sighed softly trying to process everything before talking, smiling at him softly, "I don't blame you, you did what you thought was best and to be honest if the roles were switched I would've done the same....if I had something to stop you from dying I would've done it.".

As astarion tears up, knowing you're not mad at him, you pull him into a hug, running your fingers through his hair. Whatever happened next you two would get through together no matter what.

[gothcsz]

Imperfect For You | Javier Peña x Fem!Reader | ~10k wc | Part 4 of the Fantasize series | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: The night Javier proposes.

Tags: established relationship, semi-public sex, jealous!javi, but also sweet nervous javi that might be a little ooc but irdgaf, oral (f&m receiving), a smidge of degradation, light breath play, dirty talk, unprotected p in v sex (practice safe sex pls), facial, pwp, porn with feelings, some physical descriptions but overall it's pretty vague, javier can pick reader up, no use of Y/N, reader is a badass photojournalist, reader speaks spanish, other shit i’m probably forgetting.

A/N: did not expect to write another part in this world so fast, but the idea for it came to me in a dream and my mind kinda just took it from there, lol. i hope you guys like it, pls feel free to come bother me about this, okay?! in the wise words of queen bey: i'm swerving on that, swerving, swerving on that big body been servin' all this swerve, surfin' all in this good-good 😋🙂‍↕️

DIVIDERS CREDIT: saradika

Navigating your relationship with Javier stateside was definitely an experience.

When the highs hit, they were nothing short of breathtaking.

That summer was a whirlwind of sweet moments. You spent your days with him and his dad on their family ranch, immersing yourself in the rustic life— learning about the animals, how to care for them, and getting your hands dirty in a way that was surprisingly fulfilling.

Nights were filled with fun adventures, like hitting up those grimy dive bars Javier loved so much, only to find yourselves tangled up in the back of his pickup in some dusty parking lot.

There were times that felt straight out of a fairytale—picnics in sun-drenched fields, soft, sleepy sex in his childhood bedroom followed by breakfast in bed with the morning light streaming in.

But as the summer drew to a close, reality set in. Javier decided to stay in Texas to help his pops with the ranch, while you had to move to New York for work.

It made sense, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Saying goodbye was like tearing a piece of your heart out. Your relationship, still so fresh, was suddenly thrust into the challenges of long-distance, and that brought its own set of struggles.

The lows were devastatingly low.

At first, it was really hard, and you feared that the thrill of your kinky and dramatic beginnings had worn off, exposing you both to the harsh realities of dating.

You started seeing sides of each other that had remained hidden until they weren’t.

Javier’s hot-headedness and tendency to react without thinking, your own habit of micromanaging and being passive aggressive— these flaws clashed in ways that neither of you had anticipated.

Javier, who had never been good at relationships to begin with, struggled to navigate this terrain all over again, while you, having not been in a serious relationship since your freshman year of undergrad, found yourself unsure of how to handle the rough patches.

These were challenges you hadn’t faced since you didn’t really have the time to. 

He was preoccupied with taking down dangerous drug traffickers and you were caught up in the whirlwind of keeping up with him.

It made you wonder if the idea of you two only ever really existed in Colombia.

The distance didn’t help matters. Seeing each other so rarely made the relationship feel strained, like you were constantly trying to hold onto something that was constantly slipping through your fingers.

You tried to convince him to move to the city with you, but every time the topic came up, it ended the same way— with you in tears and him abruptly hanging up.

“I can’t just leave him here to run this place by himself. He’s not getting any younger.” “He has other ranch hands, Javi. You said you’d try this with me.” “This is me trying. Why are you being so selfish?”

The conversations would spiral into bickering, pointless arguments that left you both emotionally and physically drained.

There was even a time when it all fell apart— a breakup that lasted an entire month, neither of you speaking, the silence as heavy as the miles between you.

It wasn’t until Javier finally came to his senses, flying out to New York to win you back, that things started to feel right again.

The reunion was explosive, leading to the most fervid, passionate makeup sex that left the both of you out of commission for the rest of that weekend.

After that rough patch, everything began to fall into place, and it was pretty much smooth sailing from there.

The two of you had weathered the storms of long distance, misunderstandings, and inevitable growing pains of a serious relationship, and you had come out stronger on the other side.

Javier eventually made the decision to move into your apartment, a choice that felt like a natural progression rather than the point of contention it had once been.

You found yourself building a life together, and the city became the backdrop for your blossoming relationship.

He found work at a private security company nearby, a job that kept him engaged but wasn’t nearly as all-consuming as his previous work with the DEA. 

Your own career was thriving as well, your time in South America propelling you forward, and Javier was your biggest supporter. He admired your passion and dedication, often marveling at the way you captured the world through your lens.

Gone were the days of petty arguments and the anxiety of being so far apart. 

Javier’s fiery temperament mellowed in the warmth of your affection, and your once-passive tendencies faded as you grew more confident and assured in his unwavering support.

You learned to communicate more openly, and trust replaced the insecurities that had once threatened to pull you apart.

Now, your life together is a beautiful blend of routine and spontaneity. Whether it’s quiet mornings spent sipping coffee and reading the news together, or weekends exploring the city and its surroundings, everything is finally okay.

It’s much better than anything you could have ever thought up of those late nights in Bogotá, where all you did was dream of being his.

The gallery is abuzz with the energy of admiration and praise, the walls lined with your photographs— snapshots of life that tell stories far beyond the frames they’re bound by.

It’s your night, a celebration of your burgeoning career, and as you move through the room, mingling with friends, colleagues, and mutual acquaintances, your confidence shines brightly.

The alcohol is flowing, the murmur of conversation blending with the soft music that plays throughout the space.

Javier stands near the edge of the room, keeping to the periphery and staying out of the way, but his eyes never leave you and how you glow in the spotlight.

Tonight you’re the center of attention, and rightfully so. You’ve worked your ass off trying to make this exhibit happen and you managed to pull it off seamlessly. But, there’s something else on his mind— something that has him a bit shaken.

The small velvet box tucked securely in his pocket feels heavier with every passing moment.

He plans to propose to you here, a decision he’s been turning over in his mind for well over a year now. Despite the certainty in his heart— that he loves you more than he ever thought possible— there’s a ghost from his past that won’t let him be.

The memory of Lorraine, his ex-fiancée, looms like a shadow, stirring anxieties he thought he’d left behind.

He never imagined himself getting engaged again after that failed relationship, and the fears that haunted him then seem to be creeping back now, whispering doubts even though he knows that what he has with you is completely different.

He takes another careful sip of his drink. Your friends have reassured him that everything will be fine, that you’ll say yes without hesitation.

But still, he can’t shake the apprehension that has him locked in place, keeping him rooted to this spot, while everything moves like a blur around him.

To make himself feel better, Javier allows himself to imagine what it will be like— to see the surprise and joy in your eyes when he gets down on one knee, to feel your arms wrap around him as you say yes, to know that you’re his, officially and forever.

You look so radiant, your cheeks flushed with excitement and champagne, and the sight fills him with a warmth that momentarily drowns out the worry gnawing at his insides.

And that cocktail dress you have on— Christ, it makes you look so sexy. Fitting your silhouette like a glove, accentuating all the curves that make him delirious. He’s half tempted to pull you somewhere more private, fall to his knees, and bury his tongue inside you.

You wouldn’t mind it one bit.

Then, from the corner of your eye, you spot him—your rock, your steady presence, the man who has stood by you through every twist and turn. Even amidst the buzz of the crowd, you can sense his wary disposition, the tension in his stance.

You excuse yourself politely from the conversation you’re in, your steps slightly swaying from all the alcohol you’ve had, and make your way over to where he’s standing.

“Found the life of the party right here,” you tease as you step up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. It’s soft, affectionate, and you taste the liquor on his breath; a reminder that no matter where you are or who’s around, he’s the one you’re always drawn to.

Javier’s heart skips a beat as your lips meet his, and he can’t help but smile down at you, even as the nerves twist in his gut.  “You’re the star tonight, mi amor. I’m just here to admire.” He murmurs, his voice low and warm, his free hand instinctively finding your waist.

“And I’m so glad you are,” you giggle softly, “But something’s on your mind. You okay?” You know him too well, and even through the vignette of champagne, you sense the unease beneath his calm exterior. 

“Yeah, just… taking it all in. Letting you do you,” he replies, his thumb rubbing small circles against your waist which has you exhaling shakily. He tries to sound casual, but there’s a tightness in his chest that won’t go away.

You see right through it, of course. After two years together, you’ve learned to read him like one of your photographs— capturing every subtle shift, every unspoken word. You tilt your head slightly, studying him with that sharp intuition of yours. “You sure?”

He hesitates, his thoughts racing.

He could drop to one knee right now, right here. But the weight of the past holds him back, just for a second longer.

“Just proud of you,” he finally answers, deflecting, but his brown eyes give him away. There’s more he wants to say, the words just catch in his throat.

Your smile softens, and you reach up to stroke his cheek. “Thank you, baby.” you whisper, leaning in to kiss him again, slower this time, as if to reassure him that whatever’s on his mind, it’ll be alright. 

A soft throat clearing from behind you interrupts the intimate bubble you’ve momentarily retreated into.

You roll your eyes playfully, earning a knowing smirk from him before you reluctantly turn on your heel.

Standing there with an expectant look is your best friend, arms crossed and eyebrows raised in mock impatience.

“Sorry to break up the PDA,” she teases, tone laced with humor, “but you’re needed elsewhere.”

You shoot her a faux-glare, but the corners of your mouth twitch upward into a smile.

“Duty calls,” Javier murmurs in your ear. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your hair, the simple gesture making you feel tingly all over. You close your eyes briefly, savoring the moment before letting out a soft sigh.

With a resigned smile, you reach for his almost-empty glass, still held loosely in his hand. Without breaking eye contact, you tilt it back and drain the remaining contents in one swift motion, the smoky burn a small, satisfying feeling that warms up your blood.

Your friend snorts at your display, a grin tugging at her lips. “Cute. You’ve got her shooting whiskey now.”

You hand the empty glass back to Javier, who’s watching you with a specific glint in his eyes that you can’t quite put your finger on, and you wonder what it is that’s got him behaving like this.

“Go do what you have to do,” he tells you softly, fingers brushing against yours as he takes the glass. “I’ll be here when you’re done.”

You nod, giving him one last peck before turning to follow her to where you’re needed. As you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, so you sway your hips exaggeratedly. 

She nudges you playfully as you weave through the crowd. “You two are disgustingly cute, you know that?”

You can’t help but snicker, “I really lucked out with him,” you reply and she nods, understanding how much he means to you and vice versa. “He’s been acting really weird all night. Don’t know what’s gotten into him.”

She pokes her tongue against her cheek, trying her damndest not to spoil the big surprise even though she’s so excited for your reaction. “He’s so used to having you all to himself that he can’t stand sharing you with the rest of the world.” 

Now you nudge her, catching the sarcasm in her voice.

There’s a flutter in your chest telling you it’s more than that. There isn’t much you can do at the moment so you just drop it all together, a large grin on your face as you get pulled back into the social whirl.

You’re standing on the far side of the room, engaged in a lively conversation with the professor who had suggested you for the position in Bogotá. The conversation is light and familiar, filled with nostalgic anecdotes and her telling you she knew that you were perfect for the job.

Then, you hear someone softly call your name from behind.

You turn to face a man who appears slightly older than you, with sharp, handsome features and an air of pretentiousness that’s impossible to ignore. His perfectly tailored suit and calculated smile speak volumes before he even opens his mouth.

You bid farewell with your professor and shift your attention to the man before you.

“Peter Andrews,” he introduces himself smoothly, extending a hand which you shake. “Fellow reporter, currently working on a piece about the rising individuals in the field. I was hoping I could steal a few moments of your time for a quick interview.”

His eyes rake over you shamelessly, tongue wetting his lips, and then he adds, “I have to say, you’re even more beautiful in person.”

And there it is— the not-so-subtle flirtation, wrapped in a thin veneer of professionalism. You catch it instantly but choose to brush it off with a sweet, practiced smile, hand returning to your side. “Thank you,” you reply politely, already calculating how to keep the conversation on track.

You walk a little further down and he gestures toward the collection of pictures displayed on the wall opposite you, the ones capturing your time in Colombia. “Impressive work,” he remarks, eyes lingering on the images. “I’m particularly surprised you managed to get Javier Peña to talk.”

You recall that weekend spent in the Hamptons with Javier, where the goal had been to wrap up the project. Instead, it had been repeatedly delayed, thanks to his inability to keep his hands off you. The memory makes you smile inwardly, but you keep your expression neutral, curiosity piqued by his comment.

Your brows knit together as you question him, “Why do you say that?”

He exhales heavily, as if what he’s about to say is common knowledge. “I’ve just heard the guy is kind of an asshole.”

You suppress a laugh, realizing he has no idea that the so-called “asshole” he’s referring to is actually your boyfriend. Deciding to keep that detail to yourself for now, you feign interest, wanting to hear more of what’s being said about the former agent.

“Really?”

He hums, shifting his weight on his feet, eyes moving between you and the framed photos, “Yup. It’s a bit astounding that he wasn’t thrown in jail for, well, you know.” He motions vaguely and your eyes narrow, “Bringing him back was definitely… a move. A criminal going after criminals. Guess it’s the only way to catch ‘em, right? Takes one to know one type of situation.”

You bite down on your tongue harshly, hating the way he’s talking about Javier. He doesn’t know the half of it and if he did, he wouldn’t be so fucking judgemental.

“Criminals going after criminals,” you echo his words back to him with an edge, “Sounds like every other government man,” you add and he lets out a haughty laugh, the sound grating on your nerves. 

His arrogance makes your stomach twist, but you hide your distaste, bowing your head slightly as if to smooth out your dress, masking the grimace that threatens to surface.

The conversation with Peter continues with a few more back-and-forth questions. Nothing particularly groundbreaking. You answer with ease, maintaining the courteous smile you’ve perfected over the years.

Meanwhile, Javier has been searching for you, his brows drawn together in a deep scowl. He stops your friend and asks where you might be. She points him toward the more deserted side of the room, where he spots you engaged in conversation with another man.

Javier knows he has nothing to worry about— he’s secure in himself and in your relationship. But still, a sharp surge of jealousy courses through him as he takes in the scene.

The man, with his taller frame towering over yours, is standing just a little too close for Javier’s liking. His hand twitches at his side, as if he’s holding himself back from reaching out to touch you, and that’s enough to set your boyfriend on edge.

Before his brain can fully process it, his feet are already moving, carrying him across the room at a faster pace than he intended. He stops when he’s close enough to overhear your conversation but not to let himself be seen, keeping a watchful eye while trying to gauge the situation.

Neither you nor Peter notice his presence, too absorbed in your exchange to sense him nearby.

Not that it matters much— Javier can tell from your body language that you’re wrapping things up, and that small observation helps ease the tension in his chest. Still, he remains alert, listening intently while his gaze never wavers from you.

“So, where’s the after party?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you respond, “No after party. I’m looking forward to going home with my boyfriend.”

Javier, still watching from a distance, feels a swell of pride in his chest. Hell yeah, gatita, let that fucker know you’re taken.

Peter’s eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. “You’re in a relationship?”

“Yes,” you confirm, your voice steady. A server passes by with a tray of champagne, and you take a flute, thanking him before sipping from it to maintain your composure, though your thoughts are far less polite than your demeanor.

“Happily?” Peter presses, his boldness catching you off guard. You raise your brows in amusement, nearly choking on your drink at the audacity of his question.

Javier’s jaw tightens, and he’s on the verge of stepping in, ready to make his presence known to the man who’s clearly trying to make a move on you.

“Very,” you reply firmly, tone leaving no room for doubt.

“So I shouldn’t invite you back to my hotel room for a nightcap,” Peter murmurs, his tone dripping with suggestion.

You suddenly realize just how close he’s gotten, his breath warm against your ear. His hand has somehow found its way to your waist, fingers grazing your hip in a way that makes your skin crawl.

That’s the last straw for Javier. Without hesitation, he steps out from his spot, his voice cutting through the tension. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

The way Peter jumps back from you is almost comical, his eyes wide with surprise as he scrambles to put some distance between you both. It’s like that self-assured, cocky attitude was completely dissipated by Javier’s presence. 

Relief floods through you as your boyfriend steps closer, putting you at ease. An arm snakes around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side, and the warmth of his touch melts away any lingering discomfort.

“Sorry,” you say, definitely feeling the drinks in your system. “Peter here pulled me aside for an interview. He was shocked to find out that you actually sat down to talk to me about your time in Colombia. Apparently, you’ve got a reputation for being kind of an asshole.”

Javier chuckles dryly, his grip on your waist tightening protectively as he looks the other man dead in the eye. “Is that so?” he drawls, his tone calm but with an unmistakable edge. “Well, I guess everyone’s entitled to their opinion.”

Peter, clearly flustered, forces a laugh, his previous confidence now shaken. “Oh, you know how rumors are,” he stammers, taking a step back. “It’s just what I’ve heard.”

“Good thing I don’t put much stock in rumors,” Javier replies, leaving no doubt that he’s marking his territory.

You nestle closer into Javier’s embrace, smelling his cologne, feeling a sense of satisfaction as Peter fumbles for words. The dynamic has shifted, and it’s clear who holds the power in this situation.

“Besides,” he adds with a pointed look, “I am an asshole.”

You grin and bite down on your lip as he presses a kiss to your temple. Peter finally decides to retreat, mumbling something about taking a ‘very important phone call’. As he scurries off, you can’t help but feel a surge of pride for the man by your side—strong, vigilant, and completely yours.

Once he is out of sight, you turn to Javier, a twinkle in your stare. “You really do know how to make an entrance,” you tease, leaning up to kiss him softly.

“Just making sure no one forgets who you belong to,” he murmurs against your lips, the possessiveness in his tone unmistakable. It’s so hot.

“As if I could ever forget.”

Somehow, you’ve found yourselves in a secluded enough corner for Javier to let his hand slide down from your waist to cup your ass, his fingers squeezing firmly over the fabric of your dress. The touch draws a soft gasp from your lips as you lean into him.

“Me estás volviendo loco con este vestido, amor,” he mutters in a low growl, indicating his growing need for you. “Wanna take you home and rip it right off you.”

You bite down on your lip, the idea swirling in your mind with a dangerous allure.

The thought of leaving this event—your event—early, just to be alone with him, is tempting, more than you’d like to admit.

But even as the desire flares between you, you know it’s not the most graceful move to make, disappearing from your own celebration just to satisfy your hunger for each other.

“Soon, Javi,” you whisper, trying to be the voice of reason in the building suspense, even as you try to maintain some semblance of composure.

But Javier’s hands have a mind of their own, growing bolder as they firmly grip your ass, pulling your hips to his.

The heat between you is tangible, and the restraint slowly slips away as his touch becomes more insistent.

Sensing that things are about to get dangerously out of hand, you quickly reach down to grip his wrists, gently but firmly stopping him before the moment escalates beyond your control, or worse, you’re caught.

“C’mon, sneak off to the bathroom with me. I’ll be quick,” Javier whispers, his voice thick as he leans in to nip at your earlobe. It sends a jolt of heat straight to the apex of your thighs, and you have to bite back a moan.

You tilt your head slightly, eyes scanning the room to make sure no one’s paying attention.

That no one’s searching for you.

When you’re sure it’s safe, you grab his large hand, heart pounding with excitement as you begin to pull him toward the back area of the building.

He’s sporting a triumph smirk that tempts you into kissing it right off his annoyingly handsome face.

Skipping the public restrooms, you guide him to the more secluded one for employees, knowing it’s the only place where you’re least likely to be interrupted.

The door barely clicks shut before he’s spinning you around, pressing your back firmly against it. His lips crash onto yours with an urgency that feels almost desperate, like kissing you is the only thing keeping him from falling apart.

His hands roam over your body, fingers digging into your hips as he pins you against the door, his mouth moving hungrily against yours. It’s unrestrained, filled with a need that borders on primal.

Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging him closer as your tongues tangle. The confined space only heightens the anticipation, the thrill of being caught shouldn’t feel this exhilarating. 

But amidst the whirlwind of passion, you manage to break the kiss, pulling back just enough to gasp for air. “I need to go back out there soon,” you whisper, your voice shaky, lips swollen and glistening.

Javier groans in protest, a deep, throaty sound that reverberates through your very core. In one swift motion, he maneuvers you over to the countertop by the sink, lifting you effortlessly to perch on top of the cool marble surface.

His hands are already working, sneaky fingers rucking your dress up until it’s bunched around your waist, revealing the silky barrier of your underwear. His gaze drops, taking in the sight of your exposed thighs, the delicate fabric already damp with anticipation.

A wicked smirk plays on his lips as he lowers to his knees before you, hooking a finger around your panties, tugging them aside to unveil your glistening folds.

The cool air brushes against your scorching skin, eliciting a soft gasp from your lips. Javier’s eyes dart up, meeting yours, the smoldering intensity making your breath hitch.

He leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your sensitive flesh. The first touch of his tongue is agonizingly gentle, a teasing glide along your slit that has your hips bucking forward, seeking more.

He obliges, flattening his tongue to deliver a languid, thorough lick from your entrance up to your clit, collecting your arousal with a groan of appreciation.

A tremor runs through you, your fingers instinctively weaving into his hair, anchoring him closer. He chuckles softly against your pussy, igniting sparks in your veins.

His hands grip your thighs, thumbs stroking soothing patterns as he delves deeper, his tongue exploring every ridge and contour with meticulous attention.

When he finally wraps his lips around your swollen clit, sucking with just the right amount of pressure, a strangled moan escapes you.

Your thighs clamp around his head, the feeling so overwhelming, but Javier seems unfazed, his focus solely on drawing out every ounce of bliss he can from you. His tongue flicks and circles, alternating between gentle laps and fervent suckles, each movement pushing you closer to the precipice.

Your back arches involuntarily, head falling back against the mirror with a gentle thud but you’re too overwhelmed with how good he’s making you feel to notice the dull ache.

The room fades away, party outside muted, leaving only the slick sounds of Javier’s ministrations and your ragged breaths.

“Javi,” you pant, your voice barely above a whisper, laden with need. He grumbles, the sound sending a fresh surge of wetness to leak from your cunt.

His pace quickens, tongue and lips working in tandem to push you over the edge, his mustache scratching against you so delightfully.

The coil in your belly tightens, every nerve ending alight, and with a final, expertly placed suck, you shatter, pleasure washing over you in relentless waves.

Your vision blurs, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids as you ride out your climax, Javier’s tongue continuing its gentle caresses, guiding you back down.

As the aftershocks subside, you release your grip on his hair, fingers numb and trembling.

Javier pries your legs apart, placing a few more wet kisses on your pussy before nipping your thighs and standing to tower over you, kissing you roughly.

You can taste yourself on him, the heady flavor with the spicy liquor he’s been sipping on all night is an inebriating combination.

Pulling back, he rests his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily, faces heated. “Okay, we can go back now.” he teases, a smug grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh softly, still reeling from how quickly he got you off.

This man has a fucking mouth on him.

“You’re insatiable,” you murmur, affection lacing your tone as you bring your thumb up to smooth down his mustache, collecting some of your cum and feeding it between his lips.

He bites down on it gently after licking it clean. “Have you seen yourself? Hard not to be.” He responds, stealing another quick kiss before helping you straighten your dress, fingers lingering a moment longer than necessary which has you reprimanding him playfully.

You both compose yourselves, cleaning up and ready to return to the world outside, but he hangs back.

“You go first. I’ll be out there in a minute.” You nod with a small smile, leaning in to kiss him one last time before leaving him alone.

As the door closes behind you, Javier checks the silver watch on his wrist, noting the time. He exhales a heavy breath, the moment settling on his shoulders. “Okay,” he mutters to his reflection, the image of himself staring back with a mixture of anticipation and nerves. “This is it.”

He talks some confidence into himself, squaring his shoulders as the weight of the small box in his pocket becomes palpable.

It feels impossibly heavy, but it’s a weight he knows he’s ready to carry. This is what he wants— he wants you in every sense imaginable, and he’s ready to make that commitment.

With a deep breath, he adjusts his clothes, smoothing out any wrinkles and straightening his tie. His hands move to his hair, fixing the tousled strands left by your eager fingers, a small smile playing at his lips as he thinks of you.

A quick once-over in the mirror confirms he’s presentable, and with one final, steadying breath, he steps out to follow you, the decision already made and the path ahead clearer than ever.

You stare at Javier quizzically as he silences the room with a simple gesture, the murmur of conversations fading away as all eyes turn toward the two of you. He steps closer, his expression serious but softened by the warmth in his eyes.

You hadn’t expected him to make a speech— he’s not usually one for public displays— but the idea of him surprising you with one fills your chest with a rush of affection. A happy, almost nervous smile tugs at your lips as you gaze up at him.

Javier clears his throat, his gaze never leaving yours, and for a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you. “I’m proud of you,” he begins steadily, “Proud of the woman you are, the things you’ve accomplished, how you handle everything life throws at you with grace and determination.”

Your heart swells with adoration. Even though he tells you these things all the time when it’s just the two of you, having him declare it out loud to the rest of the world really pulls at your heartstrings.

“You’ve made me a better man,” he admits as he reaches out to take your hand. “You’ve shown me what it truly means to love someone unconditionally, to stand by their side even at their worst. I know I’ve given you plenty of reasons to walk away, and God knows I haven’t made it easy. But you’ve stayed, through all my shit, and that’s something I’ll never take for granted.”

His words hang in the air, the room is utterly silent now, every person captivated by the honesty in his voice. You can feel the love radiating from him, the deep, unwavering affection that has only grown stronger with time.

“From the moment we met, nothing about our relationship has ever been conventional,” Javier continues, his voice steady despite the nerves you can sense in the clamminess of his palm. You give his hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze, hoping to ease some of his tension.

“We’ve faced challenges and obstacles in the strangest sequence. And that’s why I love what we’ve built together so damn much— it’s real, it’s raw, and it’s ours. Two stubborn, complicated people who somehow found a way to make it work.”

You’re hit with a wave of emotion, and you feel your eyes begin to glisten as you hold his stare. He carries a sincerity that touches something deep within you, a reminder of just how far you’ve come together.

Javier takes a deep breath, brown eyes never leaving yours. He releases your hand to reach into his pocket, pulling out the small velvet box that has been weighing on his mind all night.

The room collectively holds its breath, and you can hear a few gasps as he drops to one knee, eyes still on yours, nervousness and absolute certainty in his expression.

Your stomach bottoms out and you’re half tempted to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming. You look around to find your best friend, who just flashes you an encouraging smile, in tears herself.

“Gatita,” he begins, the pet name bringing you back to him, “I never thought I’d find someone like you. You’ve changed my life in ways I never imagined, and I can’t picture my future without you in it.”

He opens the box, revealing a beautiful, sparkling ring that catches the light and seems to shine just as brightly as the love in his eyes.

You gasp, recognizing the large diamond that sits at the center of it. 

Javier had Frankenstein’d his mother’s ring and the one you purchased in that antique shop back in Colombia. With Chucho’s permission, of course, he replaced the diamond on his mother’s ring and put yours in its place, just slightly altering the original band to fit your finger.

It’s truly the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen, and okay sure— maybe you’re biased because it’s being offered to you by the man of your dreams.

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Javier declares as steadily as he can, despite the emotion thickening his words. “Will you marry me?”

Tears blur your vision, the reality of the moment sinking in. You look down at the man you love, the man who has been your partner in every sense of the word.

Your agent.

You nod, unable to find the words but knowing he can see the answer in your eyes.

“Yes, Javi,” you manage to choke out, voice trembling. “Yes, a thousand times yes, I’ll marry you.”

The room erupts in applause and cheers, but all you can focus on is the radiant smile on Javier’s face as he slips the ring onto your finger. The kiss you share is filled with all the love, passion, and promise of the future you’ll continue to build together, a future that’s just as unconventional, just as perfect as the journey that brought you together.

The rest of the evening is a whirlwind of joy and excitement, your engagement ring sparking endless conversations as you gush about it to everyone who crosses your path. Javier stays close by your side, his earlier nerves replaced with a relaxed and happy demeanor.

The gratification in his eyes is unmistakable as he watches you share your happiness with those around you.

The night winds down on a perfect note, and with your apartment just a short walk from the gallery, the two of you stumble through the city streets, your laughter and drunken smiles lighting up the night.

In the elevator of your building, you make out like horny teenagers. This time, it’s you who takes control, pressing Javier up against the railing that lines the small space. Your hand trails down to rub his erection over his pants. He groans against your mouth, the sound full of want.

When the elevator dings open, you grab his tie and pull him down the hallway, both of you struggling to keep your hands off each other as you fumble with the keys. After a few failed attempts at unlocking the door, you finally manage to get inside the apartment.

You break away from him, your breath coming in quick, excited bursts as you tug the loosened tie from around his neck. “Wait for me in the living room.”

He stares down at you, dark eyes revealing the hunger he has for you and yours reflect the same sentiment tenth fold. 

He nods, relinquishing his hold, but not before delivering a sharp smack to your ass as you walk away toward the bedroom. “Don’t take too long. I’m trying to fuck my fiancée.”

You shoot him a playful, heated look over your shoulder before closing the door behind you. Leaning against it for a moment, you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself.

So many good things have happened tonight, and adrenaline surges through your veins, leaving you in a euphoric high.

You walk over to your closet, rummaging through it, until you find what you’re looking for. The familiar mask comes into view, and a slow smile spreads across your lips as you trace the pointed ears with fondness.

You don’t wear it as often as you used to, reserving it for special occasions or when Javier has had an especially rough day at work— nights when you know he needs to let go.

Tonight seems like an appropriate time to bring out again.

In the bathroom, you strip out of your dress, letting the fabric pool at your feet. After freshening up, you slip the mask over your face, feeling a thrill as it settles into place.

Now, you’re completely naked except for your heels, the engagement ring sparkling on your finger, and the expensive necklace Javier gifted you on your two year anniversary. 

Grabbing his tie, you stumble slightly as you make your way back to him, pausing in the hallway to flick the lights off. You hang back, just before crossing the threshold into the living room, your heart pounding in your ears.

“You in there?” you call out playfully.

“Yes, ma’am,” comes his reply, followed by the soft clink of ice in a glass.

Peeking around the corner, you spot him sitting on the couch, his broad back facing you. Quietly, you slip into the room, your movements light as you come up behind him.

“Hello, agent,” you purr, words dripping with seduction as you place your hands over his eyes.

His body tenses briefly, a deep, carnal rumble vibrating in his chest as he catches on to your game. A half smile tugs at his lips, one that makes your heart skip a beat. “Hola, gatita.”

You giggle mischievously, the sound light as you lean in to lick the back of his ear, savoring the way he shivers at your touch. Then, with deliberate care, you bring the silk tie over his eyes, tying it securely behind his head.

“Just so you don’t get tempted to look.”

You round the couch slowly, each purposeful click of your heels against the flooring teasing him. His ears seem to twitch at the sound, and he brings the glass to his lips, sipping lazily.

“You won’t believe what happened tonight,” you come to a stop in front of him, right between his spread legs.

“Yeah? What’s that?” he asks, his tone casual but tinged with the same eagerness that pulses throughout you.

“I got engaged.”

Javier’s tongue slowly rolls over his lips, an arrogant smirk replacing his lopsided smile.

The sight of him, shirt half undone, his strong chest peeking through, a pronounced tent in his pants where his hard cock strains against the fabric, has your core throbbing. The way he looks, blinded by the tie, relaxed but clearly aroused, is nothing short of irresistible.

He lets out a low whistle. “Lucky man. Think he can handle you?”

You lean forward, pressing your hands onto his thighs, your grip firm as you let the hard tip of your kitten mask just barely graze his nose, teasing him with your closeness. “Oh, I’m positive he can.”

Javier licks across his teeth, the simper deepening as he suavely finishes off his drink. He hands the glass to you without a word, and you take it, placing it on the table next to the couch then turning your attention back to him.

“I should be the one playing with you, preciosa. Tonight’s all about you,” Javier murmurs as he reaches for you. But before his hands can make contact, you pull back, leaving him grasping at the air. He frowns.

“And what I want,” you counter, your voice dropping to a sexy whisper, “is to mount my man and ride the daylights out of him.”

The words hit him like a punch, his hands balling into fists as he curses under his breath. The sight of his restraint, of how much he wants you, brings a satisfied grin to your lips.

You’ve got him exactly where you want him.

You step back to him slowly, your fingers deftly undoing his belt and popping open his pants. His breathing quickens as you slip your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his velvety length, stroking him with gentle, baiting movements. “Already so hard,” you coo, tightening your grip on his dick ever so slightly, “You want this gatita so bad, don’t you, agent?”

He nods, muttering expletives as his head falls back against the edge of the couch. The sensation of your hand working him over is pure bliss, each stroke sending a lustful charge up his spine.

You lean in closer, your lips trailing kisses and nips along the thick column of his neck, your teeth grazing his throat in a way that makes him tremble. When you reach the birthmark on his neck, you plant a sweet, lingering kiss there, knowing exactly how sensitive he is in that spot.

Javier’s senses are heightened, the alcohol and adrenaline from the proposal amplifying every touch. The tie covering his eyes only sharpens his awareness of you, of the way your hand moves expertly over his cock, coaxing it to twitch.

The combination of your softness, your scent, and your whispered words has him on the edge, his body stiff, every nerve alive and burning for you.

“All the time,” he grunts, “Let me touch you, baby, please.”

There’s that slight whine in his tone, the one only you know he’s capable of making. He doesn’t even realize you’re naked yet and you know that’s going to set him off.

“Not yet,” you whisper in a tantalizing promise. You swipe your thumb over the slit of his cock, smearing the slick precum along his shaft, making him shudder. After a few more languid strokes, you pull your hand away, ignoring the low groan of protest that escapes him.

You tug his bottoms down just enough to free his swollen cock and heavy balls, it’s always a delight to see him hard and ready for you.

“Tan guapo,” you murmur appreciatively, your nails lightly scratching at his thighs, leaving a trail of tingling heat in their wake as you move up his beautifully tanned torso. His skin ripples with goosebumps at the light touches, aching for more.

You undo the remaining buttons of his shirt, sliding the fabric off his broad shoulders, exposing more of his skin to your eager hands. As you straddle his lap, he inhales sharply, the realization hitting him all at once— you’re completely bare and dripping wet for him.

It has the need to touch you growing unbearable.

Your hands glide to his shoulders, massaging the tight muscles there, and he sighs contentedly, tension slowly easing from his body under your soothing fingers.

He’s so close to losing control, and you revel in it, knowing that you’re the one who can drive him to the edge and pull him back just as easily.

“Wanna know a secret?” you whisper, leaning in closer, your soft tits pressing against his heated chest, mouth hovering just over his ear.

Javier tilts his chin up in response, a silent invitation for you to continue. As you lower yourself on his lap, his cock slides between your slick, sticky folds, and your hips begin to move in a slow, deliberate grind, coating him with your wetness.

“I’d been in your apartment back in Colombia before that night I blew you,” you confess in a sultry murmur, the words slipping from your lips so sinfully.

His head tilts slightly, curiosity piqued, and when he speaks, his voice drops to that smooth, dangerously seductive tone that sends shivers down your spine— he’d make a killing as a sex phone operator. “What do you mean?”

You’ve never told him about your little Goldilocks moment, that sneaky visit to his apartment when he wasn’t home. But tonight, with your bodies entwined and his cock teasing your entrance, it feels like a good time to reveal it.

“You went to Cali to catch Gilberto Rodríguez, leaving your place empty for me to explore. It was so exhilarating, all the little things I learned about you by snooping around.” A needy whine escapes your lips as the thick head of his cock brushes against your clit. Your pussy clenches around nothing, begging for more, desperate for him to finally slip inside you.

His brows furrow, intrigue and lust clouding his expression, and you can feel the strain tightening his body as you pick up the pace, grinding down harder against him.

“I couldn’t help myself,” you continue, slurring your words, “I was so turned on by the smell of your cologne lingering on the pillows… and my mind… well, se puso un poco imaginativa al pensar en que rico te sentirías jodiéndome.”

His fists clench at his sides, knuckles white as they twitch with the urge to touch you. “¿Qué hiciste, gatita?” 

You let the heavy pause linger between you, suspense hanging, before finally biting your lip and confessing, “I fucked myself on your pillow.”

Javier’s reaction is immediate, a growl rumbling deep in his throat as the image of you humping against his pillow while he was away seizes his thoughts. His teeth bare into a snarl, the thought of you pleasuring yourself in his space while he was gone intensifies his arousal.

“It felt amazing,” you purr, “I screamed your name when I came. Best solo orgasm I’ve ever had. All thanks to you, agent.”

The guttural sound he lets out has your thighs tensing as he bucks his hips up, adding more friction to the slick heat of your pussy. “Jesus Christ, you’re a naughty fucking thing, aren’t you?”

“Only for you,” you whisper, your tongue darting out to lick along his jawline, your breath hitching as the pressure builds within you, your movements against his now drenched cock growing more frantic.

“Show me,” he pants out, rough and demanding. “Show me how you did it.”

You don’t need to be told twice. Gripping his broad shoulders for support, you adjust your angle as you begin to replicate the way you rode his pillow that night. You lose yourself in it entirely, going absolutely feral on his cock. 

The coarse hairs at the base of him brush against your sensitive cunt, adding a delicious juxtaposition that makes your toes curl.

You rut against him with purpose, your slick folds gliding over his length, hips rolling in a rhythm that has him cursing under his breath. His cock twitches with each movement, a symphony of your shared, ragged breaths and the wet, erotic friction between you filling the space.

As you move, you can feel the traction in your core winding tighter and tighter, his body responding to every little thing you do.

You sigh his name out, your voice wavering with the approach of your orgasm. You’re so close, teetering on the edge, and he can sense it. His husky voice cuts through the haze of pleasure, a dark, encouraging sneer that prickles at your skin.

“That’s right, gatita, come all over this cock, my perverted little bitch.”

That delicious line of degradation is the final push you need. You lock up, figure glistening with sweat as you shatter around him, your juices soaking him as your hips stutter out of control. Pathetic, broken moans escape your lips, your mind absolutely lost.

Javier’s had enough of not being able to touch you. As you ride out the last waves of your orgasm, he wraps his strong arms around you, effortlessly repositioning you so that he’s on top while keeping you nestled in his lap.

With a swift motion, he rips the blindfold from his eyes and takes your heels off, drinking in the sight of your figure beneath him. The darkened room only heightens his need, your sexy silhouette and the kitten mask driving him up the fucking wall.

He moves quickly, grabbing his thick shaft at the base and slapping it against your sensitive clit a few times, watching with satisfaction as you quiver from the sharp, teasing sensation.

His palm spreads at your lower back, steadying you, then with a grunt, he sheathes himself inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he drawls the curse word out, clenching his jaw. The sweet burn of him stretching you out has your skin buzzing, your nerves on fire, and he’s lost in the way your tight, wet pussy grips him perfectly, just as it always does.

“You’re so big, Javi. Feels so good,” you whimper breathlessly as you tighten your arms around him, pulling him closer.

The praise spurs him on, and with a rough groan, he sucks a nipple into his mouth, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

Your reaction drives him wild, and he snaps his hips sharply against yours, filling you to the hilt in one powerful thrust.

Your yelp of satisfaction echoes in the room as he starts to fuck you hard and fast, the pace relentless, designed to push you both toward that blissful release.

Your hand reaches back to steady yourself further against the couch, fingers digging into the cushions as he drives into you with urgency.

The rhythm he sets is maddening, your hips meeting his with equal fervor. Your lips find his in a messy, desperate kiss, neither of you caring that your mask is in the way. It’s something you’ve gotten used to by now.

“Taking it so good, gatita,” your pussy clenches around him, “Soy el unico que te lo puede dar asi, don’t you fucking forget it.”

The memory of that other man, his wandering eyes and bold advances, has all but faded.

Jealousy has awakened something so primal and attractive in Javier, a fierceness that makes your pulse race. You love it when he’s like this— unyielding, dominant, marking you as his own.

Each ragged breath he takes fuels the rough rhythm of his body against yours, leaving you aching in the best way, a deep satisfaction blossoming alongside the lingering soreness.

“R-Remind me, then,” you whisper, barely audible, caught between a plea and a challenge.

He responds with a brutal thrust, stilling once he’s buried balls deep inside, his thick cock filling your needy cunt.

Javier’s hands are unrelenting as he pushes you flat against the couch, his broad figure hovering over you. One hand snakes down to your throat, his fingers pressing into your soft skin, cutting off just enough air to make you gasp and your vision to blur.

“You need a reminder?” His voice is dangerously low, the mocking tone has your clit throbbing almost painfully as his grip tightens, pulling you closer. “That fucking ring on your finger not enough?”

You move your hips against him, desperate for more, but his hand flies down to your waist, fingers digging in roughly to halt your movements. A pitiful whimper escapes you, your need for his cock all consuming.

His hold around your neck loosens just enough for you to draw in a shuddering breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “P-Please, Javi.”

He answers with a cruel smirk, slamming you back down, his hips pulling away until only the swollen head remains inside you. Then, without warning, he plunges back in, forcing a scream of his name from your lips as he begins to fuck you, each stroke filling you completely as he gives you exactly what you’ve been pleading for.

The air is thick with the sounds of your desperate, mingled moans, your bodies slick with sweat as you move together like wild animals in heat. 

His hand remains firm on your throat, keeping you pinned beneath his weight as he shifts your legs higher on his waist, opening you up even more. The other hand moves to your breasts, his palm cracking against one and then the other, sending them bouncing with each slap.

Your acrylics scratch at the wrist of the hand that’s around your neck, the engagement ring glinting in the moonlight that floods the space, casting a silver sheen over the heated scene.

His eyes hone in on the jewelry, the grip on you unbending. “You’re mine,” he growls, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust that makes your eyes roll back, your body helpless against his claim. “Say it.”

“I—” Your voice falters, the words choked off by the sudden, electrifying pinch of his fingers on your clit. You find yourself chasing more of that feeling.

“Fucking say it,” he demands again, this time more gruffly, as if not hearing you declare yourself to him is painful. His fingers slap your bundle of nerves, and you jerk, back arching taut off the couch.

“I’m yours, Javi, fuck, I’m yours,” you cry out, the confession spilling from your lips as you writh beneath him. “I only want you— your cock, your mouth, your touch— everything. Oh,” you moan, your voice breaking as his relentless pounding has your cunt pulsating around his length.

“So close, baby, I’m about to come, please don’t stop.” The overwhelming pleasure builds to a fever pitch, leaving you quivering and completely at his mercy. 

Your desperate words satisfy him, a dark hunger finally sated as he leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. 

Your fleshy walls tighten around his cock as you shatter completely, coming undone. You pant and moan into his mouth, and he drinks in every tremor of your climax.

After a moment, he pulls back just enough to let you catch your breath. “On your knees, gatita.”

His voice is all hoarse and authoritative, leaving no room for hesitation. 

Although your body is still shaking, you obey, sluggishly slipping to your knees with a slow, dazed blink.

He towers above you, all dominating and manly, as he reaches down, pinching your chin between his fingers. He tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes making you whimper.

His cock hovers before you, and you can’t help but admire the mess you’ve made on him. Without a word, he guides it between your swollen lips, and you eagerly accept him, your tongue swirling around the tip before you wrap your lips around him. Sucking your cheeks tight as you move, he groans, his large hand at the back of your neck.

The taste of yourself mixed with his musk is addicting as you slide him deeper into your hot mouth, inch by inch, until he’s buried completely down your throat, a wet gag sounding out as you struggle to take all of him. Your hands grip his thighs for support while you work to clean him off.

“Shit,” he grunts, pulling you off his throbbing cock and jerking himself furiously over your open mouth. You stick your tongue out, pretty eyes locking onto his, heavy-lidded and filled with lust. “Gonna look so pretty with my cum all over you,” he rasps. It’s all the warning you get before he groans low in his throat, his hips jerking as spurts of his hot, milky load shoot from his swollen slit.

The warm fluid lands everywhere— on your tongue, splattering across your kitten mask, dripping down your chin. Some of it trickles onto the diamonds that gleam around your neck, and the sight of you like this is so fucking perfect, it sends a surge of possessive pride straight to his heart.

With the little energy he has left, he mumbles, “Stay just like that,” before quickly walking over to the entertainment center. He grabs the Polaroid camera, turning to you as he snaps a photo, capturing the erotic moment.

There you are— naked with your face covered in his seed, a sultry glint in your eyes, the kitten mask perched prettily on your face.

“Hermosa,” he breathes, admiring his work, his gaze worshipful as he lowers the camera.

Once he’s got your photo, you curl your tongue back into your mouth, the saltiness making you hum at how yummy he tastes.

Your fingers delicately collect the remnants from your chin, your neck, and even your mask, before slipping them into your mouth to savor every last drop. The way you devour it makes his breath hitch all over again.

Javier smiles down at you, his gaze softening as he gently helps you up from your knees. He reaches for the edge of your mask and slowly lifts it from your face and tosses it aside, wanting nothing between you as he leans in for a kiss.

His lips meet yours with a gentleness that makes your heart flutter, the exhiliration of your fucking melting into something far sweeter.

“I love you,” he murmurs, those three little words filled with a depth of emotion that makes you feel like you’re floating. The tenderness in his voice, the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world, makes your heart swell, your body and soul wrapped up in the love you have for him.

“I love you more,” you whisper back warmly, giving him a final, sweet peck. The avidity of the night begins to ebb, leaving the two of you in a serene, exhausted state.

Javier gathers you into his strong arms, holding you close as he carries you to the bathroom. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest is comforting, and you nuzzle into his neck, feeling completely at peace.

Once inside, he sets you down carefully, his hands never straying far from you as he begins to run a hot shower. The sound of the water cascading down is soothing, steam filling the room. He steps behind you, unclasping your necklace and setting it on the counter.

He steps into the shower with you, standing together under the droplets. His hands move over your figure lovingly, lathering you up in that soap of yours that he loves the scent of.

He’s playful in his affection, cheekily cupping your breasts before sliding his hands down to your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze, making you laugh softly as he finishes rinsing you off. 

You return the favor, your fingers tracing the contours of his toned figure, memorizing every inch of the man you’re about to marry. It still doesn’t even feel real.

After you finish your respective night routines, Javier tugs you toward the bed, and you follow willingly. The cool sheets feel like a welcome embrace as you slip under them, and he immediately pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

You look up at him, a surge of pure love and endearment welling up inside you.

“You make me so happy, Javi,” you murmur, your fingers caressing the damp curls at his forehead. The sincerity in your voice is unmistakable, and you see the way it touches him deeply. “I can’t wait to be your wife. Just saying it makes me all giddy.” You giggle, and his mouth quirks up into that familiar half-smile you adore so much, tilting his head to place a kiss against the diamond of your ring.

“I can’t wait either,” he replies, his thumb lazily stroking your cheek as he gazes down into your eyes. “You’ve given me everything I never knew I needed. You have no idea how happy you make me, corazón. I’m the luckiest fucker in the world.”

You lean in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss that conveys everything words can’t— the depth of your love, the excitement for your future, the joy of knowing you’ve found your forever.

[eddwardharrison]

MOON HAS THE BIGGEST DOUBLE STANDARDS KNOWN TO TSAMS KIND

Ugh this is for the girlies that wanna rant about the lore… (AS THEY ARE IN THE SHOW, NOT OOC.) keep in mind this is NOT hate by ANY means. This is literally the equivalent to a pop-culture obsessed girly screaming over Love Island because her bitch didn’t get with the man she wanted /SILLY /POS

feel free to debate otherwise, this is an open space and will be maintained respectfully. :3

TW: All canon events including Depression, Su!c!d3, abu$3, etc. (sometimes i switch perspectives as if I’m talking to the characters — don’t mind that…it’s not directed at the reader I promise. <3 )

I HATE MOON WITH A BURNING PASSION. And that may be Eclipse screaming in the BACK OF MY SKULL but Moon makes me want to SET OFF MY LITTLE BROTHER SO HE ELECTROCUTES ME TO DEATH. LORD!!!!!! And I’ll explain why. Currently, I am missing out on ONE singular episode involving Moon and Eclipse that is probably a key factor in all of this, but after months of searching…I do not have it. Thus, my anger may not be fully pieced together, but THIS IS WHAT I HAVE.

Old Moon, New Moon, BOTH OF THEM. THEY ARE BOTH ACCOUNTABLE FOR HOW TERRIBLE ECLIPSE TURNED OUT. Instead of working himself to be better after Sun and Moon’s separation, he just decided “ykw a little lobotmy is okay, I’m sure.” And LEAVES Eclipse who is soon to form in Sun’s head. AND IT DIDN’T EVEN MAKE A DIFFERENCE! Moon was still a TERRIBLE brother (albiet, he was working on himself and things were not in his control all the time…ex: Killcode) and caused a LOT of his issues. And then when Eclipse formed he was so consumed by HATE that he took matters into his own hands.

LET’S DISCUSS ECLIPSE’S TRAUMA FOR A SECOND. (YEAH, HE HAS THAT….SHOCKER. Despite his constant denials, he very clearly has it. I’ve been studying this man since I entered this forsaken fandom. /silly) (MOON’S TRAUMA *IS* ECLIPSE’S TRAUMA.)

Imagine you’re Eclipse— before the separation. You and Moon are one person. You share the same feelings, the memories, the actions, the PAIN. You kill kids without WANTING TO, you’re shut out and you’re hated and nobody will help you so you’re SUPPRESSED in your own HEAD, forcing yourself just to BLINK. But, you still CARE about your brother, so you try your damn best not to move for HIS SAKE. You’re giving ALL YOUR ENERGY just to keep this CHILDREN’S BOOK CARDBOARD CUTOUT happy, and what does he give you?? NOTHING BUT AGONY! YOU GUESSED IT! Eventually, your labored sympathy will become hate. You act out, you lose yourself, and now suddenly you’re killing the very kids you just wanted to spend time with. OOPSIE DOOPSIE! OH WELL, THOUGH! A LITTLE BIT OF LOSS HASN’T EVER HURT ANYONE!

Separation day came, your final way out. You get to be SAFE, you get your own BODY, you get the chance to be FIXED, you’ll be ALIVE. YOU’LL BE *YOU*.

And then you wake up

and you realize

you didn’t leave.

You’re still stuck in that same body, unnoticeable, unheard, people are noticing your existence, but brush you off like a small error. You’re not supposed to be there. You knew this, but now other people were saying it too, but not in the way you meant it. You were abandoned by YOUR OWN BODY. This is where thought processes SPLIT. Eclipse is made of very limited parts of code from Sun and Moon, but is mainly depicted as “Moon’s Malice”, a string of code that caused him to be killing all those kids. Naturally, you can’t just stray away from this personality, right? You’re born to do it, it’s all you can think about, it’s all you feel, it’s all you are. Just “Moon’s Malice”. And so Eclipse rightfully played the part, but he wanted to be his own person. Adapting “Eclipse”, forced into a Sun’s body. Can we talk about how HORRIBLE it would be to wake up in your worst enemies BODY?! BODY DYSMORPHIA INSTANTLY! The whole “I’m quite comfortable in this body 🤪” quote from way back when - when Eclipse still had Sun was a LIE. He KEPT IT because he wanted an ADVANTAGE. He wanted REVENGE. He wanted to put Moon through the same amount of pain when HE LOST HIM BY MAKING HIM LOSE SOMEONE ELSE! YIPPIE! Not only that, but the bottled up trauma, anger, and hate that SUN CAUSED because of his HOGGING ASS KEEPING HIM AND MOON SUPPRESSED for so long, and he STILL isn’t free from that even as Eclipse. Eclipse at this point has spent his ENTIRE LIFE suffering under Sun and now he’s just being resourceful! So, he sends them a couple traumatic places yada yada he does his little dancy dance. He gets his own body, hunting for the star, yada yada yada.

AT ANY TIME POSSIBLE, MOON AND SUN COULD’VE GONE “hey, let’s make this work. Let’s help Eclipse. Let’s have a whole family.” Of COURSE Eclipse would DENY IT?! THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?? Let’s put that very same sentence in a way that Eclipse sees it. “Hey, Eclipse. Apologize for being a monster even though I’m the one that abused you for several years.” BRO???? I WOULD DECLINE TOO??? H-H-H-HELL NAH!!!

Let’s quickly take a look at Eclipse’s actions against Lunar — specifically, his lash out. Was he terrible for that?! Abso-fucking-lutely. BUT LET’S ALSO COMPARE AND CONTRAST TO MOON JUST REAAAL QUICK. Moon regularly did this kind of stuff REPEATEDLY, whether it was verbal or physical, direct or indirect, SHIT HAPPENED A LOT AND IS IMPLIED TO HAVE BEEN WAAY WORSE BEFORE-SHOW. Because Eclipse is a SINGULAR STRAND OF MALICE-CODE, HE’S OBVIOUSLY GOING TO RETAIN THIS TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE QUALITY. But you know what ELSE happened during that day? Eclipse walks away, goes to a pillar and considers APOLOGIZING. Did he? No. Is he bad for that? Of course. You will NEVER hear me say “Eclipse is a good person”, BECAUSE HE’S NOT. You’d have to be a MORON to consider that. HOWEVER, he can be UNDERSTOOD and RELATED TO. The path he went down is often a COMMON ONE FOR REAL FUCKING PEOPLE WITH PTSD. TO LASH OUT WHEN TRIGGERED! TO BECOME WORSE THAN BETTER. CAN YOU EVEN BLAME HIM??? As stated by MOON HIMSELF, Eclipse is INCAPABLE of growing and learning as a person. You wanna know why?! HE’S A SINGULAR STRING OF MOON’S FUCKING MALICE YOU MOLDY RAT CONGESTED WITH DISEASE. He IS incapable of it and to HELP HIM he needs help with his PROGRAMMING. YOU BUFFOON. Though not given the time to see if Eclipse would repeat these actions against Lunar again, he (as of our knowledge) hasn’t. Moon has done it over and over again and Sun is /still/ traumatized from the Old Moon’s actions when Lunar got over it ages ago. LUNAR IS CHILD CODED…LUNAR SHOULD STILL BE THE TRAUMATIZED ONE. Moon had FAR MORE of an IMPACT than ECLIPSE DID.

This is why Eclipse’s “redemption arc” only came after RUIN CREATED HIM. HEY GUYS!! I CRACKED THE CODE!!!! ECLIPSE V4 ISN’T REDEEMED BECAUSE HE SUDDENLY WANTS TO BECOME A GOOD PERSON, HE’S BECOMING MORE CALM, COLLECTED, AND RATIONAL BECAUSE HE’S NOT /THAT SINGLE STRING OF MALICE CODE ANYMORE./ He HAS other coding, he’s built from the GROUND UP BY RUIN HIMSELF. Ruin has basically GIVEN HIM the ABILITY to THINK THROUGH MORALS. HE IS /FAR/ MORE COMPLEX NOW. SOMETHING MOON COULD’VE DONE FROM DAY 1!!! BUT NOOOO…

Let’s all step back for a minute. Because Hate, is exhausting. Having an existence with nothing but anger is a very tiring thing. Eclipse becomes depressed as we see a few weeks coming into the Two Parter death of Eclipse. He gets tired, he ends up wanting to just give up and DIE and let the star literally eat him alive, and then he gets that vision of armageddon. AND THEN— SOMEHOW, FOR SOME REASON, HE GOES TO WARN THEM! EVEN WITH HIS IRRATIONAL TACTICS, HIS MALICE BASED CODE, HE /WARNS/ THEM. I cannot express to a normal human being how important that one selfless act is when it comes from someone who only knows how to be selfish. AND YOU KNOW WHAT MOON DOES?! HE KILLS HIM. HE CALLS HIM A LIAR. AND HE FUCKING KILLS HIM. /WITH/ HIS REPLACEMENT WATCHING. HE WAS REPLACED. BY SOLAR.

I love Solar ‘n all

BUT I’VE ALWAYS HATED SOLAR FOR ONE, ONE SINGULAR REASON. HE WAS PUT THERE BY MOON, SUN, AND LUNAR TO /REPLACE/ ECLIPSE. SO THEY COULD BE A HAPPY FAMILY WITHOUT THE WORK. SO THEY DIDN’T /HAVE/ TO HELP ECLIPSE AND THEY’D JUST LET HIM FUCKING DIE SOMEWHERE. I am so TICKED OFF BECAUSE OF THEM. EARTH IS /EVERYTHING/ TO ME BECAUSE OF WHAT SHE’S BEEN DOING FOR ECLIPSE.

EVEN SOLAR FLARE UNDERSTOOD ECLIPSE MORE THAN MOON. THEY’RE THE SAME FUCKING PERSON. THE SAME. PERSON. 😭😭😭😭😭😭

This is where shit gets so funny.

Throughout all of this, old moon DIES. HE DIES FOR /KILLCODE/ SO THAT /KILLCODE/ CAN HAVE A REDEMPTION. FUCKING. KILLCODE. THE MAN THAT SHOWED NO SIGNS OF BECOMING A GOOD PERSON UP UNTIL IT WAS A LIFE OR DEATH SITUATION. THE MAN WHO HAS NO JUSTIFICATION FOR HIS VILLAINY OTHER THAN JUST BEING A KILLCODE. WHICH IS FAIR, BUT ITS NOT TO BE COMPARED WITH ECLIPSE. So the very thing ECLIPSE /NEEDS/ is given to someone WHO DOESN’T EVEN DESERVE IT. But, Moon is Moon. So…self righteous even though he’s horrible and terrible and I HATE HIM.

NEW MOON COMES IN! REMEMBER WHEN /EVERYONE/ IN THE FANDOM WAS LIKE “YAAAY NEW MOON. OLD MOON SUCKS. OLD MOON KINNIES DNI. IF YOU LIKE OLD MOON YOU’RE A BAD PERSON.” N YADA YADA. It wasn’t this radical, but it was everywhere. I saw it in a bunch of posts and it drove me insane. (I do love old moon, and I’ve always preferred him over new moon (nexus)) Like — EVERYONE just decided “well he’s a blank slate now, so whatever! x3” while also completely ignoring the fact Old Moon /was/ improving, and his sacrifice WAS a great deed and very selfless. Eclipse has always gone through the same thing, at times you could barely even mention him because there were Lunar fictives roaming around who’d get PTSD from it. (Which is valid. This is not to discriminate systems at all.)

BUT ECLIPSE HAS ALSO HAD THESE SAME GLIMPSES OF LIGHT AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN. From “I should apologize” to Sun and Moon finding out how much pain Eclipse was in to Solar Flare’s talk to “I’m tired.” to The Warning to his numerous deaths, to the (my speculation of) Eclipse’s attempt #1 to Eclipse’s attempt #2 to Eclipse freaking out and contacting Moon that he wasn’t supposed to be alive and something was wrong, to Eclipse making amends to Eclipse helping on his own desire, to Eclipse hanging out with Earth regularly (which he used to belittle her and insult her. He has CLEARLY changed.), to Eclipse being literally beaten up in a podcast and framed for numerous unspeakable things, to Eclipse BRINGING BACK SOLAR to Eclipse just leaving. The amount of times people could have seen ANY SIGN was IMPOSSIBLY DRASTIC AND LENGTHY. AND YOU KNOW WHAT THEY DID?? CONTINUED TO BELITTLE HIM AND KILL HIM. Eclipse only actually killed ONE character of importance, which was Lunar. (Which like oh my god dude but he did stab you in the back first…i guess…still…still fucked up…i cant defend you other than saying “it was really funny”.)

TELL ME. TELL ME WHY MOON GOT HIS REDEMPTION SO FUCKING EARLY WITHOUT BATTING AN EYE AND ECLIPSE HAS JUST BEEN FUCKING NEGLECTED?! MOON GOT TO GET AWAY SCOTT FREE, OLD MOON AND NEW MOON. EVEN THE NEW MOON ENDED UP BECOMING NEXUS AND TRIED TO KILL HIS FAMILY. WOWIE! WOWIE WOWIE DIDN’T SEE THAT ONE COMING!!! AND NOW OLD MOON IS BACK AND STILL EVERYONE IS JUST /HAPPY/. Moon has arguably had a BIGGER, MORE REPETITIVE, AND DEEPER impact traumatically when he lashes out. All Eclipse truly did was to LUNAR and then sending Sun and Moon on wild goose chases and races towards the star. Eclipse WON that star too and did NOTHING with it. BECAUSE HE’S FUCKING DEPRESSED!! AND HE HAS THAT RIGHT. Moon is AWARE that EVERYTHING is HIS FAULT. He has ACKNOWLEDGED THIS, YET HAS DONE NOTHING BUT MAKE IT WORSE. Moon is a VILE, SELFISH BROTHER. Not just to Sun, but to ECLIPSE. THEY’RE THE SAME FUCKING PERSON. You can’t just say “i hate myself….:emo:” EVERYONE ON THIS SHOW HATES THEMSELF BUT YOU COULD AT LEAST HELP THE FUCKING ORANGE VERSION OF YOU FIND A FUCKING COPING MECHANISM OTHER THAN REVENGE?? He’s been TAME SO MANY TIMES, SO MANY VULNERABLE POINTS and they NEVER TOOK ADVANTAGE OF IT TO HELP HIM. You can’t just try to help a person ONCE and then DROP THEM. That’s NOT HOW HEALING FUCKING WORKS. YOU /CONTINUE/ TO PRY, YOU STOP THEM FROM DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIORS, YOU STAY WITH THEM. LEARN FROM SUN YOU DIMWIT. ECLIPSE NEEDED YOUR HELP SO MANY TIMES AND YOU JUST STOOD THERE AND CALLED HIM A MONSTER??? YOU DESERVED TO WATCH SOLAR DIE. YOU CAN’T JUST REDEEM YOURSELF AND LET THE OTHER YOU WITHER LIKE FUCKING PAPER IN WATER YOU COURT JESTER. YOUR JOKES AREN’T FUNNY, THEY MAKE ME WANT TO RIP THAT FOOL’S CAP OFF YOUR HEAD AND STUFF IT INTO YOUR ESOPHAGUS.

NOBODY WILL UNDERSTAND ECLIPSE’S ANGER THE WAY I DO.

😇

I am so unhealthy about this man.

anyways, thoughts? Sorry if this is a little messy, it just kinda happens…letting out my inner alpha and all..🐺🐺🐺

(believe it or not this is actually not all of it, this is just on one idea.)

Once again noting this is all light hearted, just being wrapped up in the acting and how much I can understand a character and feeling personally obligated to stand up for him. Eclipse has touched my heart in a way nothing else has, and I will continue screaming about him until I wither up and die. Everyone can have different perspectives and ideas, this is what I see. AND I SEE INJUSTICE!! /silly

[bluesylveon2]

Hello!! May I request 6. I Won't Say I'm in Love from Hercules with Malleus? I'm quite the malleus connoisseur !! ❤️😭 Thank you!!! <333

Hi!!! Idk why but this one was hard for me to write 😅. I tried to keep the song in mind while writing it. It ended up being less of "I Won't Say I'm in Love" and more of "I didn't know I was in love. ft Lilia" I hope that this fits since you are a Malleus connoisseur!

Note: Malleus is oblivious to love. Small Spongebob, Ice Age, and Frozen reference

Word Count: 844

Warnings: not beta read and possible OOC characters

"Lilia-"

"Ahem," Lilia, wearing his long lab coat, cleared his throat from his spot on the couch.

Malleus sighed as he lay on his bed with his hands on his stomach. His mind was jumbled with thoughts about the Prefect. Lately, she has been stuck in his mind, and Malleus had to consult Lilia for his wisdom, but was Lilia rearranging his own room into a doctor's clinic necessary? "Doctor Lilia." 

"Much better. Now what are you here for?" Lilia smiled and returned to writing his shopping list on his clipboard. Malleus did not need to know that.

"It's about the Prefect."

Lilia nodded and jotted more items down. "What conditions are you experiencing right now?"

"That I want to be next to her right now."

Lilia hummed in thought. He waved his hand, and some mist appeared. Inside the mist was a Yuu smiling at Malleus, "How would you feel when you see Yuu?"

Malleus sighed for the nth time that day, "Well, I would feel happy like when I get ice cream, excited because I am spending time with her because I could tell her more gargoyle facts, my chest gets this feeling when I see her, I can trust her with Gao-Gao Drakon-kun…."

Hours had passed, and the sun was beginning to set when Malleus was still rambling and didn't look like he was going to stop. 

Meanwhile, Lilia had already dispersed the mist and focused on other important matters.  

I can scare Sebek and Silver if I draw a ghost on the other side of this shopping list, put it on a fishing rod, and hang it in front of their faces. Khee hee hee, those boys will be in for a treat.

"And she occupies my thoughts day and night! Thinking about her now makes me want to praise her for everything, almost like Rook."

"What would you do if someone? Let's use Leona, had the same feelings you felt for her now?" Malleus frowned. If looks could kill, then the roof would have a big hole going through it. The sound of thunder could be heard nearby. Lilia held up a hand and shook his head. He already knew his answer. "Malleus, I know what you're experiencing, but first, let me give you a hint so you can figure it out."

Malleus sat up and crossed his arms. "Aren't you supposed to be the one to diagnose me?"

"Hush, who is the doctor here? Now, it starts with an L.."

Malleus' eyes widen in shock, "Leprosy!"

Lilia chuckled, "No, no! Not that. It's four letters and ends with an e."

"Starts with an l. It is four letters and ends with an e," Malleus whispered to himself. His chin rested on his fist while his face was deep in thought. There was only one word that came to mind. 

"Lice?"

Lilia could not hold back his laugh. In fact, he could not stop laughing (he even threw his head back and slapped his knee) for a whole ten minutes. 

"Are you done?" Malleus asked with a frown on his face. 

"Ha ha…phew…I have not laughed like that in so long! Yes, Malleus. I am now. What you're experiencing is love."

Malleus' mouth opened up in a small o, "Love…can you explain it, Lilia." 

"Love is both a physical and emotional feeling. It can turn your cheeks red and give you butterflies in your stomach. Not literal ones, of course, but it feels like it. Love is also putting one's needs before your own." 

"I see…" Malleus trailed off, deep in thought. 

Lilia chuckled, "What do you think love is?"

"Whenever I think or see the Child of Man, I feel happy. I felt the butterflies after she gave me a ticket to the VDC. She is also one of the few people who was not scared of me after knowing my identity. She even has similar interests to me. If she asked me to get her a rose from Briar Valley, I would do it. If she wanted me to follow her to the end of the universe for her, then I would; she is the Earth and Heaven to me. Had she gotten injured by Schoenheit’s overblot, I would have been devastated…. " Malleus looked up at Lilia, the realization set in his face, "Love is Yuu. I love Yuu."

Lilia smirked, "Took you long enough to realize it. You always have a lovestruck face when you see her. I'm surprised that you never concealed it." 

Malleus ignored Lilia and shot straight out of his bed with a determined look, "I need to go."

"Where are you going?"

"I need to tell Yuu I love her! Thank you for helping me, Lilia!" Malleus disappeared, leaving a small trail of light where he once stood. 

Lilia stood up and brushed off the imaginary dust off his coat, "Kids these days," he chuckled and grabbed his clipboard, "Now let me do my shopping at Sam's. I hope he has a fishing rod in stock, khee hee hee." 

400 event is still open!!

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

[star-girl69]

this was requested to me in a pm but this is the gist of it-

aemond x f!reader who is the daughter of a high ranking lord who is close friends with helaena and the rest of the royal family, but has a particularly close relationship with aemond. he comes to her for comfort after the pink dread joke, she goes to him when she has nightmares about the day he lost eye, and they basically just slowly fall in love with each other throughout their childhood. later, it is revealed that reader is bethrothed to someone else. aemond freaks out and then typical aemond-ness ensues.

this is so ooc but it’s cute so whatever also i apologize for it being so long i hope you all enjoy!!

warnings: violence, kissing, swearing, mentions of sex, reader cries a lot, parental neglect (kinda?), tell me if i missed anything!

You Have Always Been Mine

—-

The fire crackles as you stare into it. Fire has always transfixed you, which was probably why you were so intwined in the family of fire and blood.

You were the fourth daughter of a powerful lord, only good for being a bargaining chip in a marriage. Your parents had been chasing a son, but only daughters came to them.

When you first visited King’s Landing, you were utterly lost. By chance, you stumbled upon Helaena in the gardens, a spider weaving between her fingers. You were fascinated by her bravery, and she was fascinated by yours. No one would ever approach her like this- so boldly ask what she is doing. Everyone walks on eggshells around her. But you were not like that, and she found herself not wanting to leave your side.

At Alicent’s request, you became a part of the family. Your parents agreed to it, seeing as it was one less worthless daughter to feed. Helaena told everyone you were her sister, and it was Alicent who held you when you got your first bleed.

Until the day you died, you would always be inexplicably tied with the Targaryens.

The sun has long since set, and your handmaidens has retired shortly after. You had tried to find sleep, but it would not come for you. You figured some needlepoint would help your mind to calm, your body to lull itself into a state of sleep.

So, at this late hour, when you hear a knock upon your door, there could only be one person on the other side.

“Come in,” You call, and the door opens to the sight of Aemond Targaryen. He bars the door, walking over to your sitting area quickly. “What troubles you, Aemond?”

He always came to you for comfort- and you were all too happy to provide it. You were too young to truly understand what was happening, but your stomach clenched each time you saw Aemond, each time you heard his name, or even thought about him.

“They gave me a pig.” He settles down on the couch, pushing his head into your lap. You quickly move your needlepoint, afraid of accidentally injuring him.

“What do you mean?”

“Jace, Luke, and Aegon. Today, during our dragon riding lesson. They put fake wings on a pig.” Your heart twisted for him.

“Oh, Aemond.” Your fingers wound into his hair, softly scratching his scalp. He sighed into your touch. “I’m sorry. They are so cruel to you… I- I do not know why.” He keeps his eyes closed, and you don’t cease your scratching. “If I could change it, I would. In a heartbeat, Aemond.” He opens his eyes, and you move your hand to caress the side of his face.

“Sometimes I think you are the only one who truly loves me, Y/N.” He grabs your hand with his own, holding it there as if he is scared you will pull away. You would never, not unless he asked.

“You speak lies. Helaena loves you, and your mother does.”

“Yes, but not truly. Not as you do. You love me like you can look into my soul and see every bad thing I will ever do- and yet you still love me.”

“I doubt I could ever not love you, Aemond.” He turns his face, pressing a kiss to your palm.

“Promise you won’t leave me to the vultures.”

You smile. “I promise, Aemond.”

—-

The worst day of your life was when Aemond lost his eye. The fear- not knowing if you would lose him. You knew even then that you could not bear losing him.

Even weeks after that day, you found yourself having nightmares.

They would start similar to the actual events, a servant telling you to go the hall- that Prince Aemond had been injured.

You were not sure if you would ever forget the fear you felt when the servant told you that.

You would run to the hall, tripping over your skirts and worry snaking around your throat like a hand, choking you.

You would open the doors with a bang, look around frantically until you caught sight of him sitting by the fire. You would be relieved, and run over.

But when you were only a few feet away you wouldn’t see the gash over his eye. Oh, he was fine. You would grab his hand, notice how it was cold and limp in your hands. Then you would look up, see a knife sticking out of his heart.

And you would wake up screaming.

Tonight was no different.

It was the last night of your journey back to the Red Keep, leaving behind that horrible Driftmark.

But tonight, you could not bear it. You needed to see him- remind yourself that he was still alive.

So, with shaky legs and a teary face, you climbed out of bed, feet padding against the cold wooden floor. The door creaked as you opened it, and you flinched, but no one came.

You crossed the hallway, opening his door as softly as you could. His did not creak, and you sent a silent thank-you to the gods.

You shut the door behind you, turning around.

You had just wanted to come in while he was sleeping, see that he was okay, see the rise and fall of his chest, and leave. But he was sitting up in bed, waiting for you.

“I heard you scream.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think anyone could hear.”

“I would always hear you if you were in trouble, Y/N.” He seems almost bored, stating that as if it was a fact.

You smirked. “Even if I was a million miles away?”

He gulps and doesn’t answer. “What was your nightmare about?”

“It- I shouldn’t burden you with it.” You walk forward, standing next to his bed. “I’m sorry for coming.”

“Don’t be. Tell me, Y/N.”

“I-” You feel the tears fall again at even just the memory. “Instead of your eye- there was a knife in your heart. You were dead, Aemond, and I could not bear it.”

He looks at you almost placidly.

“I just came to remind myself that you’re alive.” You place a hand on his face, the side closest to you that was maimed. “I’m so sorry, Aemond.”

“Lay with me.”

You take a step back, and he lets you. Your hand falls.

“Aemond- I can’t… It would be improper.”

He scoffed. “That is nothing. I am prince and you are a princess.” You open your mouth to speak but he stops you. “Alicent thinks of you her daughter, Helaena thinks you her sister. And you are mine. My best friend, and no one will take that from us.”

Your tears multiply at his words, but they are grateful tears.

“Lay with me,” He repeats, and you climb into his bed. He shuffles over, and you press your head against his chest. Feel his heartbeat. Remind yourself that he is here, he is alive, and he is yours.

The moon comes in through the window, shining off of the wall you are facing. You tilt your head up, look him in the eyes.

“I wish I could give you your eye back.”

“I know you would if you could.” You smile, and something ignites in his stomach.

When he said you were his, something had ignited in his stomach. But you were here, you were next to him, and you were his. You were his in a way that ran much deeper than blood, than marriages. You were his by cosmic right, by some way that your soul’s were tethered together.

If he lost you, he would not be able to live.

But he pushes that away, because you were here now, you were next to him, and you were his. At least for now.

—-

You knew that the years had been kind to you. Men stared at you in halls, asked for your hand in marriage. But you did not have your eye on them. You had your eye on your family.

You did not want to think about marriage, about being taken away from them. It loomed over you, growing closer everyday.

You confided in Helaena, and she told you that you would always be sisters.

The stars have demanded it, that we be sisters.

Of course, you never quite were able to decode Helaena’s riddles. But you took comfort in it.

When you told Aemond of your fears, he had gripped his sword handle as if he could bend it in half.

You will always be mine. Don’t dirty your mouth with talk of another man.

If you were being truthful, the years had been kind on Aemond as well. He trained all the time, his body lean muscle. He was much taller than you, and his sharp features and eyepatch inspired fear.

Not in you.

He was still your Aemond, the one who held you when you had nightmares, who came to you when he was hurt by his nephews and brother.

You entertained the thought of marrying him in your most private moments. It would be a dream, you would stay with your family, and be married to Aemond. No one would be able to take you away from each other.

But your parents still had the final say, and you figured this was why they were coming today.

You stood with the royal family, in between Aemond and Alicent.

Perhaps he knew what their coming meant, because you could feel his eyes on you, tracing over your face.

You wish he could think you were beautiful like you thought him to be, but you would always just be his best friend. But, to even have a little piece of him was better than none of him. Even if you both married other people- you could never love someone like you love him.

The carriage pulled to a stop in the courtyard, and your parents exited. Their wish had been granted, and a 5 year old boy raced out of the carriage, rambunctious and entitled. Your parents gave him everything, but alas, you hoped they had softened now that they had their son.

“Daughter!” Your father exclaimed, and you stepped forward. Your had been in the same etiquette lessons as Helaena, the etiquette for a princess was all you knew. Your mother eyed you, picking up your brother, whose name you knew to be Thomas.

Your father grabbed your hands, looking you over, nodding to himself.

Your mother stepped forward as well, Thomas pulling at her hair. She ignored it.

“You will make the most beautiful bride, soon.”

You hoped it was never.

“Oh,” Your father spoke up again, putting an arm around your mother. “I cannot bear to wait any longer. We have betrothed you. A Tyrell son- the first son, heir to Highgarden! I guess he saw you at court, and came to us for your hand.”

You could not see straight.

“You will be the Lady of Highgarden!” Your mother seemed to be ecstatic, and you felt your heart break.

You could not. You would not.

You were frozen. You did not know what to do, what to say. Behind you, you could feel the tension from the royal family roll off in waves.

You heard Helaena’s soft cries, Alicent trying to comfort her. You turned away from your parents. although your father was mid-sentence.

“Helaena-” You rushed forward, taking her into your arms. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” It was all you could repeat as your own tears fell.

“Have we caused some upset?” Your father was confused, you could tell.

“Yes.” Aemond’s voice. Oh, Aemond. You could not beat to leave him. You were not sure how to gather your thoughts, how to deal with this new information.

“Aemond,” Alicent scolded, but you heard the tightness in her voice. “I’m very sorry. My Lord, My Lady. We have just been taking care of Y/N for so long- this transition will be tough.”

“I see.” Now your fathers voice was tight.

“We are meant to be sisters. The stars demand it.” Helaena’s prophecies have always worked her into a frenzy, and you squeeze her tight, trying to bring her back to what was happening. Although you wanted to fade away with her as well.

“Y/N, come. We have much to discuss.” Your mother comes up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Please,” And it is a whimper, a plea, said into Helaena’s hair as you bury yourself in her arms, trying to ignore what is happening.

“Y/N, I know this is difficult. But you will be married. The Tyrell boy is nice, and he will treat you well. Do not delay the inevitable.” Your mother’s counsel only makes you cry more, until she grabs you by the shoulder and rips you away from Helaena. “Insolent girl,” She mutters, keeping a death grip on your shoulder. She follows your father, and you look back.

Helaena is crying into Alicent’s neck, and Aemond’s jaw is clenched, face turning red in anger. He had not done that since you were young children.

“I’m sorry.” You mouth, and he does not answer.

—-

This is the longest you had gone without seeing them.

You had been with your parents, being prepared for life as a Lady.

But you were not a Lady- you were a Princess. Not in title, but in practice, and in your family’s eyes.

Your parents had told you to stay away from Helaena and Aemond, make the transition easier. It only hurt you all more. You wished you didn’t have to listen to them- that Alicent was your mother and she would protect you from this cruel fate.

Your felt horrible for thinking this way, but you could not help it.

The gardens were beautiful, and as you walked with Lord Tyrell, you came across the place you had first met Helaena. Tears threatened to spill, but you pushed them back.

“You are most beautiful. I am surprised no one has taken your hand yet.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Would it be improper to throw up on him?

“Of course, everyone thought you would marry Prince Aemond. But he gets everything. You know, even after he lost his eye, he beat me in a tourney.”

You remembered that. The only tourney he has competed it, before deciding he hated them. He had won, of course, and you weren’t sure why he hated them. But you would support him, always.

“Spoiled boy.” He muttered and you turned. He turned to you, a victorious smile on his face. “But, justice has prevailed. I get his woman. Tell me, has he taken your maidenhead yet?”

“My Lord, I-” Was he questioning your virtue?

“Well, has he?” You were too shocked to form an answer as quick as he wanted you too, so he grabbed your chin harshly. “Did he?”

His fingers dug into your skin, and it hurt.

“N-n-no,” You were scared out of your mind, and tears threatened to spill. He just looked at you like you were his meal.

“Shame. You will never get to know how much more of a man I am.”

—-

You aren’t quite sure what time it is when you leave your chambers, but it’s dark and the halls are devoid of servants.

You look up at the door in front of you. Aemond’s. Behind that door holds so many memories- and you think about leaving him again. You truly cannot bear it.

You knock, hoping that he is inside.

The door opens quickly, and he is out of breath. Lose pants, and a linen t-shirt, he looks like your Aemond. You feel tears well. You are leaving him.

“Y/N. I knew you would come.”

“Aemond.”

He notices your tears, and he draws you inside his chambers, barring the door. He holds you against him as his hand fumbles with the lock.

“What’s wrong, dōna mēre?” Your heart squeezes at the nickname even through everything. He teases you, refuses to tell you what it means. And you are leaving him, so now you will never know.

He draws you to the couch, sitting side by side and he pulls you to his chest. Oh, how perfect this moment is. But then you remember what Lord Tyrell has done- why you are here, looking for comfort.

“T-that man, Aemond. He is horrible. He only wants me to fulfill some grudge against you. He questioned by virtue- when I didn’t answer- he- he grabbed by chin, so roughly, and it h-hurt…” You can feel him tense.

But he just shushes you and lays you down on the pillows, wraps a blanket around you. He pulls his hands away and you realize he is leaving.

“What are you doing?” Your voice is small, and Aemond’s anger only grows.

“I’m going to kill him.” You shoot up, faster than lightening. He whips around, getting on his knees to calm you down. “It’s alright,” He whispers. You can still feel the anger radiating off of him, but he pushes it down for your sake. You grab at his collar, trying to keep him from making a grave mistake.

“Y-you cannot throw your life away for me.”

“You are my life.”

The ferocity of his words hit you, as he grabs one of your wrist’s holding onto his collar.

“Aemond… do not say things like that.”

“Why?” His expression is hard. He is glaring at you, but you cannot find it in yourself to shy away.

“Because I am to be married, Aemond. And when you say that…” It seems like you might love me back.

“What? Tell me, Y/N.” He takes one of your hands, places it on his face.

“Because it gives me hope. That you might feel the same way I feel about you.” And you cannot lie to him, so it all comes pouring out. “Do not say things like that unless you can back it up, Aemond. Unless you love me.”

He presses a kiss to your palm. He speaks quickly, needing you to believe him. “I do love you. More than anything. You torture me, haunt me with just the thought of you. I need you. I cannot… You said you would not leave me. Don’t.”

You almost do not believe him, it seems too good to be true. But he speaks with such conviction you know it must be true.

Aemond Targaryen loves you more than anything.

Oh, this is all you have ever wanted. All you ever needed. And now you are being teared away from him.

“It’s not my choice. I would stay if I could. I would.”

He leans forward, breathes you in. He knows you speak the truth, but he does not want to believe it.

“I love you.” It is barely above a whisper, and your voice cracks with the emotion your pour into those three words, but he hears it all the same. You think it is the most true thing that has ever been spoken.

“How can I keep you?” He places his face next to yours, trailing your jawline with his nose. You wind your hands around his neck, if only to keep him close to you.

“I don’t know,” And you are lost in him, and you cannot think. He is the most addictive substance, and you will need him again and again after this. “Aemond…” You feel his breath, heavy on your cheek. It is heavenly. “Make me yours.”

“You always were.”

And he draws you in for the sweetest kiss, and you are lost.

—-

When you wake, it is to the sun shining on your face. You remember last night, your confessions, and how Aemond had kissed you. You press your fingertips to your lips, suppressing a smile.

An arm winds around your waist, and you recognize it immediately.

“Are you awake, dōna mēre?” His voice is rough as he whispers into your ear, and you find yourself wanting to drown in it.

You place you arm over his, sighing. “Aemond.”

“Y/N.”

You turn to your other side, to find Aemond facing you. His shirt is discarded, and you trace the indents of his stomach and chest with your finger. You lay on his arm, his hand cupping the back of your head, lips pressing into your hairline. You could truly stay like this forever.

“I love you.” He whispers, and it is the sweetest sound. His other hand trails down, caressing your thigh and drawing soft circles there.

“I love you too.” You whisper, and a cloud hangs over this moment. “Lord Tyrell intends for us to marry, tomorrow. He says that he is entranced with me, that he cannot wait.”

He seems unbothered. “His name does not deserve to be in your pretty mouth.”

“They will take me from you.” At this, his arm moves from your thigh to your waist, tugging you closer.

“I won’t let them take you, Y/N. I swear this to you.”

Your parents might come looking for you, but you don’t care. “Can we just stay together, today? Stay in here?”

“If it is what you wish, dōna mēre.”

—-

The sun has rolled behind a cloud, giving the room some much needed darkness. You have done nothing but reminisce, talk aimlessly. If you marry Lord Tyrell, it is possibly the last you will ever see of him.

You have moved to the couch, and you are in between his legs. His arms wrap around you from behind, and you are at peace.

You wish to be with him, for today. It is all you have, and it is not enough, but better than nothing.

Aemond leans forward, presses a bare kiss to your shoulder. You have been sitting in silence.

“I can’t marry him.”

“I know, dōna mēre.”

“Can you not do something? Can your mother not?”

“I don’t think so,” He places his chin on the top of your head. “But I will think of something.”

You want nothing more than to believe him.

—-

A few hours later, you leave him and lock yourself in your chambers. You cannot sleep without him, so you toss and turn as you think of Lord Tyrell- and your approaching wedding.

—-

The next morning, you awake to your mother. She is singing praises, telling you that your dress looks wonderful, the gardens are decorated for the ceremony. You ask if Helaena and Alicent can help you get ready, and she tells you not to be stupid.

“They have more important things to do, my dear.”

“They are my family. I want them here.”

Her eyes narrow toward you. “I am your family. Your father is. And soon, Lord Tyrell will be. You will belong to him, and you will be most happy.”

“I love Aemond, Mother. I belong to him. I always have.” She purses her lips, setting a white dress onto your bed.

“It will pass.” Is all she says, and you cry while she helps you into your dress.

—-

Your eyes are still bloodshot, your tears have not stopped. No matter how much your mother scolds you, you do not stop.

You are crying as you are lead down to the gardens, as you sit there waiting for the Septon to get settled. You are crying as your father takes your arm, and you are crying as you walk down the aisle.

You pass by Helaena and Alicent. Helaena looks at you with so much longing, and you wish to fade into her embrace. Alicent smiles softly at you, as if to say: I’m sorry.

You notice Aemond’s absence, and do not blame him.

Your father lets go of your hand at the front of the altar, and you cannot look Lord Tyrell in the eyes.

“Why do you cry?” He asks, voice devoid of genuine concern.

You do not answer.

—-

The Septon is a old man, grey hair and bad posture. He sinks in front of you, looking sickly. It seems neither of you want to be here.

“And do you, Lady Y/N, take Lord Tyrell to be your husband?”

You do not answer.

“Say it.” Lord Tyrell whispers, and you feel physically sick.

“She does not.” You turn at the sound of his voice.

Aemond.

He is yours, and you are his, and he would never let you be taken.

“Aemond,” You whisper, and before Lord Tyrell can react, you are running to him.

“Y/N,” He says as you reach him, and you long to feel the press of his lips upon yours. You miss him, and it has been only a single night. You run past his extended sword, into his arms.

You press your ear against his chest. One palm laid flat over his heart, the other on his shoulder. He wraps his free arm around your waist, and you are reminded of the painting in the library.

Aegon the Conquerer, holding Queen Rhaenys just like this, sword extended.

“Lord Tyrell,” You can feel his voice reverberate through his chest. “I challenge you to a duel for Lady Y/N’s hand.”

“What is the meaning of this insolence?” Your father is shouting, walking towards you with a dangerous look in his eyes.

Aemond extends his wrist, so the tip of his sword is pointed straight at your father’s chest. Even from feet away, he stops. He realizes then, that this man would kill him for you, and you would let him.

“It’s alright, My Lord.” Lord Tyrell is smirking, as if he knew this would happen. You do not pay attention to anyone else, only staring into his eyes with a venom.

With Aemond here, you are not afraid anymore.

“I accept this duel.”

Aemond does not smirk, does not let anything be betrayed in his voice or face. He is only unbridled rage, barely concealed under a thin layer of calm.

“To the death of first bleed?”

“First bleed. I would like to see your jealousy when her stomach swells with my seed.” Aemond does not react.

He kisses the top of your heads, and pushes you over to Alicent and Helaena.

You look over your shoulder as you walk towards his mother and sister.

He is looking at you, and you know that even if he does not win, it will not matter. You are his by divine right, by the stars. You understand Helaena’s prophecy now, and she wraps you in her arms. Alicent embraces the both of you, letting out a breath of fear for her son.

Lord Tyrell takes his sword from it’s holster, mimicking Aemond.

They circle each other, and at first, it is silent.

The Septon has disappeared, you notice, probably thinking that this wedding is disgrace to the gods.

Your mother glares at you from across the aisle, your father watching the fight. You do not care.

“Maybe I’ll let you watch as I fuck her. You can imagine it is your name she’s screaming instead of mine.”

“Maybe I’ll let you live.”

His face drops, and is suddenly replaced with anger. He rushes forward, sword swinging overhead. Aemond blocks it easily with his sword, moving to the side. He crouches, foot swinging out to sweep Lord Tyrell off of his feet.

He falls, and breathes heavily. Aemond stands above him.

Lord Tyrell grunts, throwing dirt into Aemond’s face. He is disoriented for a second, and Lord Tyrell kicks him back, not being able to resist pushing him around.

But Aemond does not fall, and keeps on his feet.

Lord Tyrell chuckles. “You are a good fighter, Prince Aemond. A true dragon. But I know how to play with fire.”

“You would not know fire if it burned your face off.”

And then Aemond is leaping forward, engaging in a whirl of parleys and dodging, dirt being kicked up into the wind.

You can barely keep up, and realize you have been holding your breath. You let it out, feeling air refill your lungs. You imagine it was fire, and that you could use it to burn Lord Tyrell’s face off, and see if he can recognize it.

You almost laugh at the look of fear on Lord Tyrell’s face when his sword is knocked out of his hands.

He stands there, looking around desperately for some sort of plan. His sword is too far to run too, and his fists wouldn’t do much.

He looks up at Aemond, true fear in his eyes. You hold your breath. He could have another trick up his sleeve, but you doubt he is smart enough for that.

Aemond flips his sword around, using the butt of it to drive into Lord Tyrell’s sternum. He falls back, wind knocked out of him. He hits the ground with a thump, and you barely hear his next word.

“Please…”

Aemond lines his sword up at Lord Tyrell’s throat.

Then, he flicks his sword up and a small cut appears on Lord Tyrell’s chin, welling blood immediately.

“First bleed.” He whispers, and for a second, you are too stunned to believe it. He sticks his sword back into his holster. “Y/N.” You watch Lord Tyrell as he stands up, grabbing his sword and running away with his tail between his legs.

You run over, and he embraces you, and it is how it’s meant to be.

“I wish to marry Lady Y/N, as soon as possible.” Alicent comes over, bringing you both into a hug.

“We can start the preparations immediately.”

Helaena grabs your hand.

“The stars demand it, that we be sisters.” Her eyes widen and she nods, knowing that you understand now.

You mother and father walk over.

“We arrange this nice marriage for you,” Your mother is in tears, holding onto your father. “And you trample it under your foot. You are no daughter of ours.”

They stand there, wait for some sort of reaction.

Alicent wraps her arms around your neck, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You will always have a mother in me, sweetling.” You thank her, and your mother seems appalled, but your father tugs her away.

Aemond kisses the top of your head.

—-

It is later in the evening, and you are flat on your back, sweating and panting. Aemond rolls off of you, breathing heavily as well.

He puts a hand on your face, so you’re facing him as he lays on his side.

“You were truly made me for me.”

“Dōna mēre.” Your High Valyrian is horrible. “What does it mean?”

He presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Sweet one,” He whispers against you.

—-

[ryuyukawa]

─Unfolded | Chapter 3

∘₊✧─── ❀ ───✧₊∘

★ Pairing: Tim Wright x Reader

✦ Genre: Fluff?

★ Warning: None

✦ Summary: You made a friend, yand you guys started talking through notes! Yeay! (I have no clue what to put in here..)

Note: I got super excited because this came to me in a dream and I just thought it was probably meant to be! But I forgot Tim's part.. Maybe a little ooc? But I hope you like this either way :)

You hesitated, pen hovering over the paper as your mind raced. The forest was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves, and you could almost hear your own heartbeat. There was a vulnerability in this exchange, an unspoken bond that was both comforting and terrifying. What if this person, this stranger, was someone you could connect with? But what if they weren’t? What if this was just a fleeting interaction, leaving you more alone than before? Your hand finally moved, the pen meeting the page as you began to write:

"Thank you for your note? Means a lot to know someone out there understands. I don't know who you are, and maybe that makes it easier, to be honest. I've felt lost for a long time, like I’m wandering through a world where everyone else has a place, but I don't. The forest is the one place I feel like I can breathe. It's quiet, peaceful. But sometimes I feel like it’s just a reminder of how alone I really am."

"You said you understand. I wonder, do you feel the same way? Do you come to the forest to escape too, or to find something you’re missing? Maybe it's both for me. I don’t know."

"And if you're willing, I'd like to hear more from you. Maybe we can share our thoughts, even if it’s just through these notes. I don’t know if it will make it go away, but maybe it will help, even just a little. Hope you'll find this note"

You paused, rereading the words. It felt raw, exposing parts of yourself that you rarely even acknowledged; was this too open? you thought. But there was a strange comfort in it too, like a weight being lifted, even if just slightly. You added a small doodle of a tree next to your words, hoping it would convey some of the warmth you were feeling despite your nerves.

Folding the note carefully, you placed it in the same spot where you’d found it last, hoping the person would find it. As you walked away, a mix of anxiety and hope settled in your chest. The forest seemed different now, as if it was holding its breath, waiting for something to unfold. You couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, this exchange might be the beginning of something more—a connection, even if only a fleeting one.

As you walked home, the shadows lengthening with the setting sun, you found yourself glancing back at the path, wondering if you would hear from them again, and what they might say. The forest seemed quieter than usual, as if it was sharing your anticipation.

The days that followed were filled with a strange mix of excitement and dread. Every time you walked the path, your heart would race, wondering if there would be another note waiting for you.

────

And then, one afternoon, as you rounded the familiar bend, you saw it—a small piece of paper tucked under a rock, almost as if it was hiding, waiting for you to discover it. Your hands trembled slightly as you picked it up, unfolding it with a sense of urgency. The handwriting was the same—messy but legible, and the message made your heart skip a beat.

"glad you wrote back. The forest has been a place that somehow get me at ease. It’s the only place where I feel like I can breathe, away from the noise and take a rest. I come here to think, to be alone, but I guess part of me is always hoping I won’t be alone forever, I guess?"

"Your words connected with me more than I expected. It’s strange, right? How you can feel so connected to someone you’ve never met, just through words on a page. Don’t know where this will go, but I’d like to keep writing. Maybe, we can make this loneliness a little less overwhelming."

A small doodle of a leaf was drawn at the bottom of the page. You couldn’t help but smile as you traced it with your finger. For the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t felt in ages—hope.

Morning light filtered through the curtains of your small apartment, casting soft shadows across the room. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events of the past few days in your mind. The notes, the stranger in the forest—it all felt surreal, like something out of a book or a dream. Yet it was real, as real as the sunlight warming your face and the faint hum of birds and the city beyond your window.

You finally pushed the covers aside and got out of bed, your feet meeting the cool wooden floor. The apartment was quiet, almost too quiet, amplifying the thoughts swirling in your head. You went through the motions of your morning routine, brushing your teeth, making a cup of coffee, but your mind was elsewhere, caught up in the mystery of the notes. Who was this person? why are you smiling so dumbly? you didn't even know the person.. but you do want to get to know them better, don't you?

As you sat at the small kitchen table, sipping your coffee, you glanced over at your notebook lying on the counter. The pages were filled with your thoughts, sketches, and bits of poetry—things you usually kept to yourself. Yet here you were, sharing pieces of your soul with a stranger. It was terrifying, but also liberating in a way you hadn't anticipated.

────

The city outside was beginning to wake up, the distant sounds of traffic and voices slowly filling the silence. But your thoughts were far from the bustling streets. The forest felt like a world apart, a sanctuary where time moved differently. You wondered if today would be the day you’d find another note. The thought made your heart race, a mix of excitement and anxiety churning in your chest.

After finishing your coffee, you decided to take a walk to clear your head. The small apartment felt too confining, too full of thoughts and questions that had no answers. You dressed quickly, pulling on a light jacket before stepping outside. The city greeted you with its usual mix of sounds and scent. But your mind was elsewhere, already halfway to the forest. Earlier than usual.

As you walked, your thoughts returned to the note you’d found the day before. The stranger had said they felt connected to you, just through your words. It was strange, how that simple acknowledgment had brought you so much comfort. You’d never considered that someone else might feel the same way you did, might seek refuge in the same places.

Before you knew it, you were on the familiar path leading to the forest. The noise of the city faded behind you, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant call of birds. The air was cooler here, fresher, and you breathed it in deeply, feeling some of the tension leave your body.

────

As you approached the large tree, your heart began to race again. Would there be another note? You weren’t sure what you hoped for more—the continuation of this strange, wordless conversation, or the comfort of finding nothing, letting it all remain a fleeting cconnection But as you rounded the corner, you saw it— a small piece of paper, tucked under the same rock where you’d left your last note. You hesitated, a mix of excitement and nerves washing over you, before slowly reaching down to pick it up. Unfolding the paper, you saw the familiar handwriting. Your breath caught as you began to read:

"I checked to see if you left a note, didn’t know if you’d come back, but I hoped you would. Maybe you forgot to reply? or maybe you just dont know what to say? I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said— how the forest feels like a sanctuary, but also a reminder of loneliness. I get that. Sometimes it’s like the trees are the only ones who understand, who listen without judging. But knowing that you’re out there, feeling the same way, makes the forest feel a little less lonely."

"I don’t know what’s going to happen with this, with us?? Maybe it’s just words on a page, and maybe that’s all it will ever be; and im just overthinking myself. But I find myself looking forward to your notes, to hearing from you. It’s strange, really. Maybe we don’t need to meet? Maybe this is enough. Or maybe… maybe one day we will?"

"If you’re comfortable with it, I’d like to know more about you. Not everything, just… whatever you feel like sharing, I guess? Who are you when you’re not here, in the forest? What makes you laugh, what keeps you up at night? I know it’s probably a lot to ask, but I’m curious. I want to understand the person behind the words."

You smiled faintly, a warmth spreading through you that you hadn’t felt in a long time. This person, whoever they were, understood you in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. You didn’t know if you were ready to share more about yourself, but the idea of opening up, even just a little, didn’t seem as terrifying as it once did.

Sitting down against the tree, you pulled out your notebook and pen. The forest was quiet around you, the only sounds the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of birds. And the orange shade that shine across your face as the sun began to hide. You thought carefully about what you wanted to say, how much you were willing to share. The forest seemed to hum with a quiet energy, as if it too was waiting to see what would happen next. And for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of hope, a belief that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have to face the loneliness alone.

Soo.. what do we think?? I personally like this one! I think its the longest ive ever written actually.. I made this at like, 3 am?? Stayed all night for this, LOL :3

Thoughts and criticisms are welcomed, as it would help me improve on my writing!

[eirist]

One More Sleep

Disclaimer: One Piece (and its characters) belongs to Eiichiro Oda-sensei.

Reminder: I have no beta-reader. Any grammatical and spelling errors are solely mine.

Warning: OOC possible. One shot.

Rating: T

Note: A ZoNa Holiday Events is up at Tumblr for the month of December. We got selected themes for each day and we’d love other ZoNa shippers to join and celebrate our favorite couple with holiday-themed fanarts and fanfics! Feel free to check it here: @zonamievents

Unexpectedly wrote this one just this Christmas dawn/morning (my timezone) because I can’t sleep from too much eating. And coffee. Zoned out once this is done. It’s what I would say a go figure work and definitely smells of a companion one-shot.

 Anyways, Merry Christmas everyone!

Theme: # 25 - Hibernate

Summary: “Why don’t you go up and check on him?” “Why does everybody keep telling me that?”

“Is he still asleep?”

Nami raised one eyebrow as she directed the question to the tinkering sniper. Usopp momentarily paused from what he was doing and blinked up at her.

She just continued looking at him, waiting for an answer. The curly-haired lad shrugged his shoulders in response. “Probably,” he said as went back to adjusting the screws on his latest invention. “Didn’t hear any sound coming from the nest since this morning.”

Nami pursed her lips at that. It was already late afternoon. Scratch that. It was nearing sun set to be more precise.

“Seems overboard even for him.” She flicked a glance at the crow’s nest before her eyes riveted to Usopp. “Are we sure he’s still alive in there?”

Now Usopp stopped working, shooting her an incredulous look. Then his face broke into a grin that Nami finds a bit irritating.

“You seemed concern? Why not go up and check on him?” He suggested with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Nami fought the urge to punch him on the head. “I am so not! I’m just wondering why he hasn’t lugged his stupid ass down here, being a nuisance and pissing Sanji-kun off!”

“O-kay,” Usopp mouthed looking like he’s not buying her explanation. He studied Nami for a moment and snickered when he saw her looking up at the crow’s nest again.

“What?” Nami asked in a sharp tone when she heard it. She glared daggers at her so-called friend knowing full well that he plans to subject her to some teasing.

“Nothing.” Usopp was quick to answer and he immediately went back to his work, feigning concentration.

“Urgh,” Nami groaned. “What a waste of time.” She muttered before stomping away from him to head at the galley.

Behind her Usopp snickered again.

She didn’t bother turning around to confront him or scare the shit out of him. Instead she just said, “All that snickering’s gonna cost you Usopp.”

She ignored the shout of protest that came from behind her.

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

“Is he still not up?”

Nami asked that question again. Only this time she directed it to her captain instead of the long-nosed sniper.

Luffy blinked back at her. Almost the same as what Usopp did earlier, exactly three hours ago.

He looked a bit confused as if he did not comprehend what she was asking.

And based from his answer… he definitely did not. “Who?” Her idiotic captain questioned back. A nerve ticked on Nami’s forehead before she replied. “Zoro.” Luffy paused for a moment, before he broke into a grin and laughed. “Oh. Zoro! Shishishi! Guess not. I haven’t seen him since…” he tilted his head, as if pondering. “Uhm…” “Stop that.” Nami instantly decided to put a stop to his thinking with a slight wave of her hand. Or they’ll be at it until… some other things manage to catch Luffy’s attention. “You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Why would I hurt myself?”

“Ugh, never mind.”

Luffy was looking at her strange. Then he blurted out. “Oi! Have you seen Zoro, Nami?”

Nami stared at him disbelievingly. Her fist throbbed from the effort of holding back and preventing herself from thumping him on the head. “I already asked you that Luffy! So that means I haven’t.”

“Oh! Why are you looking for him?”

“Because I haven’t seen him since…” she trailed off. Sweet heavens! Did she really fell into the Luffy loop where they’ll just keep asking each other, confusing each other and actually ending up with no clear answer?

Luffy was looking at her eagerly.

She exhaled loudly. “You know what; Sanji-kun is cooking something delicious in the kitchen for tomorrow.” Nami decided to just distract her ever gluttonous captain. “You might want to check it out.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially.

That perked the rubber man up. “Really?” His eyes went wide and Nami could swear she can see meat in them.

She nodded and just like that Luffy went bounding towards the galley, shouting meat at the top of his lungs.

There were a lot of cursing coming from the kitchen and something about ‘It’s way past dinnertime!’ and ‘That food is for tomorrow!’ and ‘Luffy you idiot captain!’. Then some sounds of scuffle and a few thuds here and there.

Nami just shrugged like it wasn’t her fault.

Sorry Sanji-kun! She internally apologized for distracting Luffy with their chef.

------------------------ “No one’s seen him since yesterday.”

“Huh?” This time it’s Nami’s turn to blink in surprise at the sudden information. She had just stepped inside the girl’s room after spending the rest of the night in the library working on one of her maps. It was almost midnight when she finally decided to get some rest and finish the other charts tomorrow.

The whole day passed and still the person she was looking for haven’t shown himself. Not during breakfast, lunch or even dinner that Sanji-kun was a bit peeved since ‘that stupid marimo is wasting food’—his exact words. Yet, the blond cook did not bother going up the nest to check on him. ‘That idiot is a grown man after all and the hell with him!’. He had grumbled while in the middle of dinner.

Robin was sitting on one of their comfy sofas; the round coffee table in front of her was filled with open books. She was poring over a thick history volume when Nami entered.

“What was that?” Nami prompted when Robin did not say anything after what she declared.

The raven-haired beauty lifted her head to regard Nami. She smiled. “Zoro. He hasn’t gone down the nest since yesterday.”

“Uhm… I wasn’t…” the navigator began.

Robin raised a curious eyebrow at her. “You’ve been asking around.”

Nami felt her face heat up at that. She was about to say she wasn’t. Besides she made sure to ask their crewmates randomly and one by one to appear surreptitious and not pique their curiosity so much on why she’s inquiring about their green-haired swordsman.

But the archaeologist was sneakier than her, for she had known exactly what Nami is up to.

So lying definitely won’t work. Robin knows everything and anything that goes in their ship with her convenient ability to produce her eyes and ears everywhere.

That or maybe Franky tipped her off after she asked him earlier. That speedo-wearing pervert!

“Why don’t you go up and check on him?” Robin spoke again as she flipped a page of her book.

Nami pouted as she plopped down her bed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why does everybody keep telling me that?”

“Maybe because it’s the obvious thing to do instead of going around and asking everybody about him.” Robin threw her a small smile as her tone emphasized the word ‘everybody’. “Would’ve saved you the trouble.”

The orange-haired girl flinched slightly at that. Robin had caught her slip. Well, it’s not like she didn’t know already.

And did she really went around and asked everyone on the ship? She only questioned Usopp and Luffy… … and Sanji-kun and Chopper and Franky and Brook and Jinbei…

Her shoulders slumped at her realization. That’s the whole crew… almost.

Robin was looking at her expectantly. “We’re nearing a winter island right? Weather’s been too cold these last few days…”

Nami stared at her. “Yeah we are,” she agreed with a nod of her head. She considered what the older woman just said. “What? You mean he’s like hibernating or something?” Nami’s eyebrow lifted high at that, disappearing behind her orange bangs. “What is he? A bear?!”

Robin laughed softly before returning to her book. “With the weather this cold, he’d definitely prefer sleeping. Can’t blame him right?” She lifted her eyes again and looked at her pointedly. “He’s probably just catching up on sleep. After all he’s been pulling double shifts these last few days,” she tilted her head slightly, still gazing at Nami meaningfully. “Isn’t he?”

Nami winced. Zoro was indeed pulling double night-watch shifts lately. But no one knows that.

Except her and him.

And Robin… apparently.

She didn’t answer so as not to affirm what Robin was saying.

“Can’t be that comfortable on the nest’s floor.” Robin murmured, that certain smile never leaving her face even as she perused her book again.

Nami’s brows furrowed at that.

“How about a nice pillow and one of those wonderful blankets we got from Sherpa Island?” She suggested and multiple hands sprouted to open their closet door to pull one out, lightly throwing it at Nami.

“Eeeh?” Nami retorted even if she held out her arms to catch it. She gaped in surprise when Robin’s hands made a grab for her pillow and placed it in her arms.  

“He’d probably sleep until he’s on watch again.” Robin smiled at her. “You can bring it up with you. I’m sure you’re going to go up there to finally check on him.”

“Robin!”

“Ara, aren’t you planning to do that?” Robin now has a cheeky smile on her face. “Or do you need me asleep before you sneak out?” She gave Nami a wink.

The map maker was speechless. How much does Robin knows???

“It wouldn’t hurt to make sure he gets a good rest right? After all it’s your shift he’s been covering.”

Nami blushed hard at that. Zoro was indeed covering her watch shifts. But only because HE said he WILL!

“For the record. He insisted.” Nami explained with frown as she bundled the blanket and pillow in her arms. “I did not force him to!” “Oh? Then that’s sweet of him to offer don’t you think?”

Nami blushed harder than she ever thought possible.

“He just… I just… He…” she stuttered before finally finding her ground.

“Why am I even explaining?!”

Robin looked at her knowingly, mischievously. “Why indeed?”

[imasadboi]

Raise The Stakes

Next

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CW: Blood, violence, stalking, kidnapping, death, vampirism, sex, blood drinking, drugging (with blood), ooc Leon, cutting (palm), (more to be added as series goes on).

Summary: Leon, a vampire turned against his will, believes he can get everything he lost through you. He will have you, not even your fiancé would deter him.

Word Count: 1,257

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Hi, this will be my first fully fledged series. I've been working hard on this for this past month and intend to do weekly uploads. (If not weekly, then bi-weekly!) I hope you enjoy and look forward to future chapters. And don't ask for pings, please. Simply follow my blog to get future updates.

That night still rings in his mind like discordant notes—the night he was turned. His gums ache and his hands clench into tight fists as the memory threatens to replay in detail. All it took for his family to be lost to the hands of Death was a rogue vampire, a spawn of the Devil. By the cruel hands of fate, he was spared and awoke to the grim sight of his mother’s throat torn to shreds and bloodied. His father had his head torn from his body, the bone sticking out from the gaping wound. His younger sister’s body was nowhere to be found—at first. It wasn’t even a short walk down the road until he saw the way that beast had torn his beloved sister’s dress apart before doing the same to her mortal flesh. He cried out in agony at what had befallen his poor family.

Worst of all, the scent of iron hung cloyingly in the air. His new hunger was made known to him in brutal fashion. His mind was befuddled, as both human and beastly instincts fought to dominate his actions. As his new instincts took over, his nails elongated almost painfully from the roots. His canines grew longer causing his gums to chafe from the rapid growth. Senses heightened and everything became too much at once; The thought to give in crossed his mind at that moment.

But the one thing that held him true despite his entire being changing; rage. Pure, unadulterated rage. Whether God had decided to show him mercy that night or not, it was due to this feeling that kept him tethered to his humanity. Even through unabating hunger and lines of drool slipping down his chin, he steadily buried each family member. As he sought to repair the wreckage of his family home, he noticed the silver chain that lay on the floor, its only pendant, a dainty cross. His fingers burned upon contact, before he ripped a piece of cloth from his already torn shirt and picked it up. He held it close to him for a moment before pocketing it. He wouldn’t rest until that vampire had paid for what he’d done.

Leon regains his bearings as he’s finally released from the memories of his past. From his palms, rivulets of blood flow freely. He quickly rids himself of his tight grip, nails no longer digging into soft flesh. He grimaces at how he’s let 100 years slip by without any progress. Sure, he’s hunted down other vampires yet the one he looks for never seems to be around. He shakes his head in frustration, his obsession beginning to crawl back into his mind like a decrepit parasite when a wave of nausea washes over him. Hunger. How long ago did he feed? He can’t recall. Time no longer ties him to this plane of existence. What would be the point in keeping track of the seasons, of the sun rising and falling when he can no longer feel its rays on his skin—skin that’s become paler with each passing day.

He grimaces how foreign his thoughts have become, how less human he’s become. But now’s not the time to be thinking of his ever fading humanity. He needs to eat. All he really needs is himself, so he gets up from the throne he’s sat on. He dusts off imaginary dirt from his lap and sets off to find yet another poor animal to claim as his victim. If there was one thing he’d swore never to do was feed on a human. 

Can’t really uphold that promise if I keep starving myself, he thinks. I wonder if it’ll be wolves or unsuspecting deer on the menu tonight. 

Finally out of the castle—one that was so graciously empty—his eyes linger onto the forest that lies ahead. Just as he’s about to take a step, he hears hushed voices. Part of him feels annoyed that someone’s decided trespassing was a suitable nighttime activity but his curiosity also gets the best of him. He makes his way towards the voices, keeping to the shadows. 

“We really shouldn’t be out here,” a voice says quietly, yet with the night so hushed, they might as well have been yelling. 

“We’ll be fine, you know you don’t have to be scared with me around, right?”

Leon hears the hesitance in the other’s voice just before they speak, “I know but there’s been more animal attacks as of lately. I don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“You have such an imagination, but that’s what I’ve always liked about you. I didn’t want us to miss this chance to be together with all the wedding planning that’s been going on. I’ve missed you. Missed us being alone together.”

Leon feels a pang of jealousy as his confliction has yet again robbed him of something so precious. Something he as a vampire will never get to have again. He moves to get a closer look at the couple before him when he carelessly steps on a layward branch. He holds his breath, more  out of habit than anything, as he quickly moves to obscure himself.

“Did you hear that?” The first voice asks.

“Hear what?” Leon hopes the second person might convince the both of them to continue with their walk but the first voice pipes in again.

“Is anybody there?” Leon decides to keep quiet, hoping they both lose interest.

“See, it was nothing, let’s just keep walking. We only have so much time before we have to head back.”

Leon listens to the pair of footsteps walk away but that ache in his chest doesn’t seem to go away.

Would it really be so bad to keep an eye on them? Leon deliberates as his feet follow after them, I just have to make sure they stay safe. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to convince himself of, the morality of stalking after a couple or if he’s really doing this with their best interest at heart. 

He follows them for some time, keeping a good few paces behind so as to not arouse suspicion. It’s only when they stop to settle down in the grass does he catch sight of them both. The first he sees is a man, dark-haired and brown-eyed. He’s got a smile on his face as he talks to his partner, you. 

The moon hangs high in the sky and perfectly illuminates your being to Leon. His eyes widen a fraction as he takes in your appearance. The smile you reflect back at your partner tugs at his heart. He can’t help but want it for himself. He’d do anything to have it all for himself. A feeling cements itself in his brain, he had everything he loved taken away from him in an instant. But you, he could have you, right? It doesn’t matter that you’re engaged to be married.

You would be his, no matter what it took. But acting too hastily is ill-advised, he knows capturing you had to be done with care and planning. And most of all, he had to make sure nothing and no one would get in his way, that included your so-called fiancé.

He memorizes your scent carried over to him by the wind. A slight shiver runs down his spine. He lingers to take one more glance at you before departing. He makes quick work of dinner and walks directly back to his abode. His dead heart beating in anticipation of what’s to come.

[friendsim2]

Just a question, I don't want to appear rude or anything...

I like your game, really do, but have you considered writing MSPAR as literally anything else than a pathetic little pleb who just can't seem to do a single thing right unless they have some sort of guidance?

I recall they were some kind of God or at least a supernatural entity, weren't they? All that Green Sun bullshit. So then why does majority of the characters treat us like complete trash? Even less than that in extreme cases (cough cough tyzias)

I understand Alternia is harsh or whatever, and they are just pissed at everything that breathes (if a fictional character's feelings are really needed to be taken into consideration) but this just feels like weak writing to me, especially after several volumes. I played both revolution and salvation to see if the treatment of the main character would change, but.....nope!

In og friendsim, they were a dork too, absolutely, but they also had the qualities to stand up for themselves (ie. insulting both Mallek and Galekh, highblood enough to rip us to shreds if they wanted to) but now, all their "personality" revolves around the fact of how trully incapable, pathetic, and weak they are despite the fact template MSPAR wasn't even that hard to stomach. This one on the other hand....

I didn't expect a sequel of a literal meme goldmine to be so negative (again, Alternia is Alternia, ik), even aggressive towards the player in certain moments. I guess winding down while playing was never the idea in the first place? I felt personally attacked by the ooc characters for something I didn't even do lol. If this was your intention, then you did a really good job.

Chickening out made perfect sense in the first volume, new surroundings and a murder to absorb, but as the volumes grew more brutal and savage, it truly makes no sense to keep a main character so mentally weak. I swear, I can't be the only one who is immensely annoyed by this.

But hey, that's just my humble opinion after 35 hours of playtime. Still excited for Marvus ofc

Peace out

So, I think there's a couple things worth pointing out here - and just to preface this isn't "your take on this is bad and wrong" but more "have you considered this?"

Don't expect this will change your opinion that much, since you clearly put a lot of time into this, but maybe you'll see things in a slightly different light - at the very least, I feel like this is thought-out critique that deserves a response.

First off, and I feel like this is an important baseline to set - we treat MSPAR as a character, not a reader insert. They are being influenced by an outside force, but exist in a kind of weird meta-narrative state where they're kind of also in control of their own personality. While this might not be explicitly stated in FS/PQ, it's definitely the vibe you get from the writing - MSPAR clearly shows a personality separate from the person playing it.

The "god powers MSPAR" is very much the product of the end of Pesterquest, not OG Friendsim. Keep in mind that literally none of the Friendsim characters have seen that side of MSPAR. Also, MSPAR mostly used their god powers to try to fix things for their friends... although there's a path where they're very much condescended to by the narrative itself. But like, Friendsim MSPAR is kind of a sad wet cat - they get hurt a lot and spend a lot of time wandering kind of aimlessly. They're in a lot of situations - and that was our influence moreso than PQ's tone.

The MSPAR that everyone on Alternia knows is basically not the same MSPAR as the end of PQ. Because stuff happened in PQ that none of them are aware of. But they've stepped back into another part of the story and subjected themselves to the influence of other, darker forces (Scratch) by choosing to go back for their other friends so... shit's fucked, man.

The story is intentionally darker in tone that the original Friendsim and Pesterquest - that was an intentional choice, and we know it might not be to everyone's liking. And if you're more in it for the lighter, more humorous vibes of FS/PQ that is completely fair and understandable. Some of that is the result of taking the Alternian world-building in a more serious direction, some of it is to reflect the changing attitudes as characters grow up and fill into their roles in the system more, and some of it is just a difference in writing style. And, like, fully acknowledging that the story gets downright grim at times. Not to say that there aren't darker moments in OG FS - stuff like the bad ending with Nihkee or the stuff with Daraya and the mall - but it is overall a little more humorous.

At it's heart, Friendsim 2 is a story about trauma - both the trauma of Alternia and what it represents, and also the trauma inherent in MSPAR's attempts to deal with the implications of how the timelines work. The trauma is both from MSPAR and from other characters who've interacted with MSPAR. That does inform both how MSPAR responds to stuff (keep in mind they're basically slugging through like a week of time here with very limited rest, just moving from point to point without a strong idea of what's guiding them). But also, it is a story about pushing past that trauma and getting to place where recovery and healing might be possible. And yeah, some of the payoff for that is coming in volumes 12 - 14 so it's not fair to be like "why can't you see this?!" The arc of the story is very much a "start at the bottom and crawl your way up" kind of thing, with moments of triumph along the way (breaking Skylla and Konyyl out in volume 3, helping Chixie in volume 7, helping the rebels in volume 9, freeing Folykl and Kuprum in volume 11)

Idk if I'd say everyone is negative towards MSPAR. Obviously there's some very prominent examples (Tyzias, Polypa) - but that varies from extremely positive (Stelsa, Mallek, Bronya, Lynera) to neutral (Amisia, Tirona, Tegiri) to "we don't remember you" (Diemen, Charun, Fozzer). The balance is probably neutral-to-negative, which was an intentional choice.

The story is about to throw some curveballs at you in volumes 12, 13, and 14 which may or may not influence how you see things. I suspect at least one of these (from volume 13) will probably not be something you vibe with, but a couple might be positives for you.

I really hope that the ultimate conclusion of the game itself helps put some stuff in perspective. The final volume is a way of tying all the threads together in a way that will hopefully feel satisfying - and there's a bunch of ending slides that will show the outcomes of various choices you made along the way, Fallout style.

Anyway, appreciate the well thought-out critique. It sounds like you might have gone in expecting a slightly different story than the one you got - and that's completely fine! Hopefully the last few volumes will prove to be a satisfying send-off - and regardless we appreciate the investment of time and energy into the game!

[sunofpandora]

Collision 🌀🌌

𝕊𝕪𝕟𝕠𝕡𝕤𝕚𝕤: 𝕒 𝕤𝕟𝕚𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕟 𝕦𝕡𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕠’𝕒𝕜 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝕀’𝕞 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 😍

I love neteyam.

But, I have a confession.

I’m a Lo’ak girl at heart.

Or maybe it’s just because I was also “the problem kid” or the “troublemaker” when I was a teen? (I always felt kinda out of place in my family because in truth I didn’t look anything like my siblings or parents) I don’t even think it’s because I'm attracted to him. I just love that kid so much. I just wanna wrap him into a blanket and protect him from everything. My little burrito 💙

I just wanna keep him safe and tell him everything is okay-

Give this kid some love!

I’ve been wanting to wirte a series for a long, LONG time. But I was afraid to write in other fandoms just because of judgement. But for some Eason I feel so safe In the avatar community, and I love this franchise so much. I thought, “hey, why not?”

So, I whipped up this sample of a Lo’ak story I had planned.

This is kinda like a ‘test drive’ so I’m looking for feedback.

Just to get a feel of what y’all would like to see in a story.

I’m thinking sun and moon romance trope (Lo’ak is the moon, reader is the sun), very fluffy, but a fair amount of angst, (DONT WORRY YALL I ALMOST ALWAYS TO HAPPY ENDINGS)

Lots of sully family shenanigans, lots of love from our fav sully siblings, maybe a little bit of ooc Lo’ak? Probably only because I’m just starting out I promise I’ll get better)

(I designed the cover myself. What Do we think? 😍)

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Lo’ak sully swore Eywa played favorites.

And I know what you’re thinking, but I promise you it’s true.

Lo’ak was never really one to believe in forces beyond explanation.

Omens, angels, powers beyond his reach. And yet, his mind always wondered off the ground.

Lo’ak was a beastly child and a rebellious teenager, to the dismay of others. His fathers son. Much like his father, his heart spoke louder than his mind.

“Strong heart”. Those were the words his father had said Neytiri had spoken to him. The day they met. The day the stars aligned and two hearts disregarded the burdens of a cruel reality, and found a home within a war. Found intimacy through the most painful of grieving.

Lo’ak knew the stars would never align for him in such a way.

And how could they?

Put Lo’ak on a pedestal?

What had he done to deserve it?

He wasn't a cute, innocent “get away with murder” Tuktirey.

He wasn't sweet, sweet Kiri.

And he was rusted silver in contrast to the golden boy, Neteyam.

What stars would align for him?

And why?

At least, that’s what he thought.

Until her met her.

Lo’ak was 8 when he met y/n. An orphan taken in by a warrior and placed among the Omaticaya after the death of her mother and sister.

And for once in his life, Lo’ak knew the stars had aligned for him.

For you.

the sun set and rose with you, the stars danced across your face, sculpted by the celestial’ s themselves.

Lo’ak was drawn to her, and the reminiscence of the nostalgia in her eyes. I reminiscing in her laugh, bright enough to challenge the sun and the sky. The absence of the atonement of loneliness, in snowfall she claimed as stars, in the rainfall she affirmed carried ghosts that cherish the fragments of their lives within the darkness of the clouds, because the vexatious luminescent antagonist we claim to be sunlight, provides no sanctuary to a ghost.

Lo’ak had told the stars about her.

Her smile is a shield to the burdens of the world.

She is a puzzle piece of the universe, she belongs wherever her mind allows her.

She doesn’t feel the weight of where she stands, she’d rather pretend. She’ll pretend she’s in her flower field, tangling her fingers with the flowers, falling deaf to the insults of reality, dancing with atokirina,s under the miridical last salvageable stretches of a sunset.

She is composed of stories.

Captivating, euphonious stories.

The sun flirts with her eyes,

Have you ever tried to neglect what you love? Even if it’s existence is as binding as what you loathe.

Lo’ak wants nothing more on Pandora than to trace hands over her stories, her whispers, her flowers, her smile.

But would his hands taint the sun in her eyes?

Beautiful things must remain unscathed.

Nothing mattered when he was with her.

But she was beyond his reach.