#Bow Glacier | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

renhanaschewtoy · 7 months ago

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Coworkers

FINALLY. I'm so sorry it took so long. All the chaos and junk really got the better of me. I hope y'all like this, I really tried. I can't wait to write more. Strade's Favorite Bartender will be next! 💚 NSFW MDNI

You’d always had a certain fondness for Lawrence you supposed. He was always the quiet guy at work, hesitant to ever really speak or have attention be directed his way.

And it wasn’t like you’d bulldozed into his life either.

It had started small, really. He was stronger than he looked and often you both shared shifts. You’d asked him a few times if he could help you move some things, speed up the task and he’d always given a little nod and followed you to do so.

You wanted to bridge that gap, you bought some tea you kept in your locker, offering it to Lawrence on breaks. At first he just stared at you for a long moment before slowly giving a nod of his head, crystalline eyes directed anywhere but you. And then grabbing the sandwiches or other items from the corner Mart you saw him buy from time to time. You simply wanted Lawrence to feel appreciated in the warehouse. That you were grateful he helped you.

And it turned into routine after a little while.

Sharing breaks, eating together in the silence that was the wee hours of morning before the sun broke. Settled in the stale smelling break room or outside on the bench in the parking lot, side by side. You usually did most of the talking but from time to time, it was exciting to hear Lawrence talk. When he'd mention his plants, the most recent time he went on a trek through the park or on a hike, better was when he’d actually give you his opinion. Even if it was differing. If it weren’t for the occasional stutter or stammer, you’d reckon to say he’d have a rich voice. Dulcet to you, if you dare say so.

You gave him your number, just in case you switched shifts at work or something came up of course! Though that didn’t stop you from sending the occasional message asking how he was doing, or if you shared a shift a “have a good night! Oops, I mean morning!” sort of text. You wanted to endear yourself to Lawrence.

And you had.

You wormed your way under his skin and into his heart like vines of twisting ivy, you made it hard for Lawrence to breathe around you sometimes. The saccharine scent about you that was so alien, so absolutely opposite of damp rot and soil he’d become accustomed to. You were the fragrant bulbs of flowers he tried to nurture and fight the impulse to cut. You were soft, you were succulent in a way Lawrence didn’t understand like the occasional ones he had spotted around his apartment. Visions of you swam in his head at night in his bed, in the fog of his shower. Emboldened by the haze of burnt hash of a blunt that was discarded on the ashtray nearby. Lawrence wondered how you would feel…from the inside. How different you would feel from his hand. Water or lotion made do in a pinch when he’d fist himself to completion, more often than not he would grow frustrated after the clarity hit him.

“huff…huff…nngh…f-fuck…(Name)...” Water cascades down Lawrence’s pale body, head bowed with one hand braced against the cool tile wile the other hand stroked his weeping cock. You brushed up against him on more than one occasion today, he felt the soft warmth of your skin through your clothes, caught a peek of skin when you’d reach up high, Lawrence swore…goddamn it, he could hear the blood in your veins. Your hand brushed against his when you handed him a paper cup of some herbal tea you’d been so proud to prattle about hoping he’d like it. And he’d die before telling you that it was actually too sweet for his taste. But maybe that was you and your influence on the moment. Too sweet. His breathing grew ragged as his glacier eyes screwed shut, trying a slight twist of his wrist as Lawrence fisted his cock; reliving the encounters behind his eyelids.

The warm flush of your cheeks, he wondered how much blood could reach the apples of them…the plush look of your lips that always curled into a little grin, what might they look like swollen from his own pressed to them or his teeth sinking into them? Would your heart hammer in your chest? Or would it be slow and calm? Would you let him touch you? Actually touch you? To crawl inside of you and feel your warmth from the inside, to break your ribs and truly be in your embrace until you were cold and still like he often felt. A grunt passed Lawrence’s lips as he grappled with the thoughts– did he want that? No…no, he didn’t think he did. Lawrence wanted to savor you if he was ever presented the opportunity. You’d feel different. You were different. His mind rewound and pulled forward like a video on a loop, searching for just the thing to focus on. That breathless face you made after exerting yourself, the way your breathing drew a little rough and you tried to chuckle through, the way your (color) eyes would look up at him so gratefully in a way only you ever looked at him.

“Hhngh…haah…(N-Name)...” Lawrence choked your name from his throat as a shudder ripped down his spine, hips jerking erratically in a rhythm that grew sloppy before pearly, viscous cum splurted forward, coating his hand and dropping into the water to disappear down the drain. The smell of stale, foggy air and eucalyptus as the evidence of his mild perversion disappeared from sight. Maybe that’s why it was always easier in the shower. His panting eventually subsided into just one heavy sigh, the heaviness left him and again the frustration followed.

It wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t you.

Maybe Lawrence was getting greedy. Not that he could ever act on it. It always made him seize up worse when you were just looking at him with those eyes of yours. So patient for whatever he may say or do. It was maddening that he let it get this far. That you somehow had sunk so deeply into him instead that keeping you was now a regular rotation in his fantasy. That fire fed and fanned by content he consumed on the internet. But there was always just a slight pause on maybe trying such on you. Maybe. Exhaling through his nose, Lawrence turns off the water and steps out of the shower. His brow is deep set in thought as he lazily towels off his pallid skin and blonde hair that falls over his shoulders limply still damp.

Dressing for bed, Lawrence dares to glance at his phone- he never gets notifications. Not really. Just from you. And today must be one of those nights that the stars just align, one message from you.

(Name): “Hey!! I have some news tomorrow!”

Lawrence’s brows furrow and lips press in a thin line, he’s not sure how to reply. If he should. But he wants to.

Lawrence: Okay.

Like most or any social interaction- not his best work. Not that you cared. It never stopped you at all or caught you off. Most might find him brusque and socially awkward, which wasn’t untrue. Lawrence doesn’t linger on the thoughts of what it could possibly be, it could be anything with you; infinitely more optimistic than himself. You found the silver linings in most things, took joy in the small victories or whathaveyou. Something he would possibly find overwhelming or even annoying but you seemed to broach him a way just so that it never…felt that way. Lawrence didn’t want to keep you at an arms length like he had the first handful of shifts where he’d nearly tried to avoid you. And now he craved you. You were sunlight, warm and necessary. You were nourishment Lawrence didn’t believe he needed. He was starved in ways that didn’t make sense.

Tugging on old, worn sweatpants, Lawrence crawls into his bed and tries to settle in and stares at the ceiling for a while before his breathing lulls into sleep.

The next day, the next shift. Stars litter the sky and the moon hangs along them. The streets are mostly dead, the silent stillness of the parking lot of the warehouse is usually comforting but there’s an odd looming sense regarding your news and Lawrence doesn’t know why. Why his stomach turns and twists so strangely when he sees you eagerly wave him over as he pushes the heavy door open after a swipe from his employee badge.

“Hey, Law!” you greet, warmly as ever- you were probably the only one who forced themself to adapt to the lifestyle of working this shift and still function. Or function better than most of the other workers here. Granted it made sense to Lawrence, it was what he preferred though it never showed.

Lawrence gives a low hum of acknowledgement you had grown accustomed to as you met him halfway to walk to the lockers together. “You…mentioned you had news…?” After spinning the dial on his lock, those piercing baby blues turned to you, seeming to perk up at his voice addressing you.

You bite your lip in that way that makes him wish he could be one of your teeth. To feel the plush skin under pressure. Lawrence blinks before turning his focus back to your eyes. “Yeah! Yeah, I finally got a grown up job, heh…” You run a hand through your (length) (color) (type) hair, your grin faltering to something almost akin to nervousness or anxiety. Because all Lawrence can do is stare at you with a blank, unreadable expression. The silence hangs over heavy as you scuff your shoe on the floor.

“... you're quitting…?” It feels like he's choking it out but if he did, you didn't seem to notice. And he's grateful for it.

“Well, yeah, I mean…I gave my two weeks. It's just…I can't work here forever. It doesn't pay enough and I'm not exactly cut out for it long term.” You admit with a little bob of your head, glancing around the warehouse stacked with pallets and equipment. And it was true if Lawrence was being honest, you weren't as strong to continue this sort of labor for long without it doing something to your musculature or God forbid your beautiful bones. It was bad enough when you bruised.

“...oh.” There's an odd sort of thrum in his chest he can't discern, a tension that settles tight in too many places for his liking. Your sharp eyes seem to snap to him at the monosyllabic reply and soften. That look. Not of pity, just soft.

“But we can still text! Or meet up on off days! I'd like to check out that trail sometime, if you'd be down?” You're quick, so quick, to offer him the modicum of comfort. That you somehow, some way, want to be around him even when no longer coworkers. You were so odd. But it wasn't unwelcome. “But uh…I was gonna throw a little party. At my place with people from our shift. If you wanted to come.”

Lawrence raises a brow at that, it isn't a “no” (it would be for anyone else)but it's more of that confusion. He didn't do parties. He didn't do other people. Crowded spaces. Not without some sort of necessity or incentive tied to it. His pause seems to make you fidget. “I know it's not your thing, so don't feel you have to or anything. But it would really nice to have you there.” You uplilt your word with that hopeful tone.

He shifts on his feet, his eyes unable to hold your gaze. Honestly? He doesn't want to. He really doesn't want to. Lawrence shifts on his feet a little as if still chewing all of the information over. He didn't like any of it. Most of all your leaving. Your absence would be felt so deeply. Lawrence felt like had something, had someone, even on the humdrum shifts you shared. Be it normalcy, warmth, Lawrence didn't know. But he wasn't about to let it go. Let you go. He couldnt. You might be vines constricting around him, but Lawrence could be all the thistles, barbs, and thorns in the world of it kept you ensnared to him.

Sometimes the stars just aligned like that.

“But, like I said- I know it's not…”

“I'll come.”

You blink up at Lawrence, surprise stark on your face for just a moment at his definitive tone. It lingers before your lips curl into a toothy grin making his heart thud against his ribs. “Yeah? That's great. Really great.” You pull out your phone and tap on it few times before a buzzing comes from his pocket. “That's my address, it starts at seven but y'know…it's a party so show up whenever.” You shrug casually.

Lawrence glances to the side, racking his brain for a moment, thinking of what next, of what to do when he gets there- nevermind that it's days away. “Alright! Well, let's go kick this shift in the teeth!” You chime, clapping your hands together and wandering off to whatever task you were assigned and Lawrence slowly trailing after you.

×××

Relationships were complicated. People were complicated. Well…living people were complicated anyway. For the briefest moment Lawrence thinks back to his family, people that meant little to him in the grand scheme of things but whether he liked it or not was part of his building blocks. At least a little.Which brought a vague memory of a muffled voice from childhood, “We can’t go to a dinner party empty handed.” A few hours before Lawrence decided he would make his appearance, he stopped at the liquor store on the corner to bring a bottle of…fuck. What did you even like?? All you drank when you were together was whatever was at the vending machines, the convenience store, or tea. Lawrence stood near the door of the shop- bottles lined all over the shelves and walls. Advertisements of several brand plastered all over in bright colors or neons.

Augh.

Eventually Lawrence meanders over to the wine section, staring at the bottles blankly, drifting from label to label. White wine? Red wine? If you would even drink it. Dry? Semi? Sweet? It was alcohol for fuck’s sake, why did it have to be so complicated. With a shake of his head, frustration beginning to simmer in the pit of his stomach, Lawrence swipes a bottle of sweet red with a delicate looking label adorned in little gilded flowers. Maybe even if you didn’t like it, you would think it’s pretty. Or maybe you’d think he was weird, like most other people– no…no, that wasn’t true. It was you. None of his antisocial tendencies seemed to deter you or bother you, opposite; you’d been nothing but accommodating and patient with Lawrence.

Keeping his head down, Lawrence shoves a few bills at the unbothered clerk who bothers to spare him a second glance before he begins the trek to where your apartment is supposed to be. Gingerly stepping through the building, Lawrence lingers in the hallway probably a beat longer than necessary before rapping his knuckles against the door. His palms are sweaty as he cradles the bottle of wine and waits…and waits…he can hear the thrum of bass through the door, music playing paired with a few voices…by the sound of it, not to many people (thankfully) or so he hoped. Just as he debated leaving and tossing away any hopeful ideations, the door is abruptly pulled open to reveal you. In more casual clothes. A warm flush blooms beautifully over your cheeks that has his breath hitch ever so slightly.

“Law! Oh man, I was beginning to worry you weren’t gonna show up!” You lilt, posture so much more relaxed and…oh. Lawrence spies the red plastic cup in your hand, of course. It was a party. People drank. He brought a bottle that he’d almost forgotten about seeing you the way you were. The drunk blush on your cheeks looked ever so enticing. “C’mon, c’mon in!” You usher him in warmly and he can take in your apartment. Posters decorate the walls, well loved furniture, a small cozy kitchen…that same sweetened perfume that was so uniquely you seemed to seep into the very walls. Lawrence shuffles inside, keeping his eyes down, only sparing glances to the other coworkers mingling around your place. Some chatting, some playing video games you had set up on your television, others bobbing a little to the music.

Lawrence’s hands tighten around the bottle before looking up to you and awkwardly thrusting it towards you. “I…I didn’t know what to bring…If I should bring anything.” He admits, biting the inside of his cheek as you blink and accept it, looking it over.

“Huh? That’s real sweet of you, thanks Law! Wine, huh? Fancy. I’ve never really tried it.” You inspect it, but keep it carefully tucked in the crook of your arm, though before Lawrence can feel embarrassed about his actions you give a mischievous grin. “You’ll have to come over again and maybe try it with me, huh? Can’t drink alone.” You chime warmly before disappearing only briefly to tuck it safely in the kitchen so nobody thinks to open it. Something for just the two of you…it ignites a spark of hope that he allows himself to buoy on for comfort now that he’s vastly out of his element. You poke your head out of the kitchen, “You want something to drink? I can mix you something or uh…I’ve got water, soda, juice…” Lawrence takes the opportunity to follow you and the variety of beverages and snacks.

Opting for water, Lawrence takes up post along one of your walls, simply watching you and everyone else. Time ticks on as his hands worry the label of the water bottle to shreds. The music feels too loud, he can feel the bass in his bones. Nobody but you really wants to talk to him, he’s spared a nod of acknowledgement or a brief greeting but nothing more- if anything people seem surprised to see him here at all. Lawrence swallows thickly and glances to the clock and moves to stand up and you seemingly appear out of nowhere. Your eyes seem to trace over his features, lingering on his face for a beat before you do that wonderful thing you do. Soften up. Relax. “Hey...I know this isn’t really your scene. It can probably be a lot huh? Here…my room is quieter, you can chill there for a bit maybe? Kinda decompress? I really…hah…I really don’t want you to go yet…if that’s okay?” The alcohol has you emboldened, your lips a little looser, your thoughts more apt to slip between them.

And a strange warmth is surging through his veins, he feels it in his own cheeks, feels his fingers twitch slightly before Lawrence finds himself nodding. Your hand slips in his smoothly, gently- and he’s tempted to flinch but instead he squeezes, carefully. True to your words, your room is notably quieter than the living room, the length of hallway giving a decent berth. You settle on your bed with a dramatic sigh and Lawrence almost shyly sits beside you, hands in his lap. “...I’m glad you came.” You admit as you fall onto your back on your duvet and tilt your head to look up at him. “Is it greedy I wanted to keep you a little longer? Just to myself?”

It’s not greedy.

You’re not greedy.

You’re perfect.

Lawrence swallows thickly, your words reverberating in his skull, echoing his same thoughts. You wanted what he wanted. He could only hope anyway but you said what he was thinking aloud. You made it real. You were real. “N-No..No I don’t think that about you.” Lawrence manages to mutter out and it makes that smile grow wider on your lips. Your hand reaches for his again, delicately, as your fingers trace his knuckles.

“We could hangout more often, y’know. I meant it when I said I still wanted to see you even after I’m outta there.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Nobody’s ever wanted to hang out around him, much less. Well beside that one friend he made online who seemed down to maybe talk in person. But they weren’t you. Nobody compared to you. The silence hangs for a moment but in the soft lighting of your room, your eyes roam over his face again before you push yourself to sit up again, shuffling a little closer to him that Lawrence can feel the warmth of your body next to his. “...is it okay if I…” You dip your head slightly, lashes fluttering to make a point of looking down at his lips before meeting his gaze again. Just barely, Lawrence shakes his head before you give a breathy little chuckle and press your lips to his, a hand raising to cradle his jawline. The light stubble there is felt against the soft, smooth skin of your palm. Your lips are plush and sweetened by whatever alcohol you’d been drinking before, slightly sticky and sweet that Lawrence savors before clumsily kissing you back. Pushing back against you perhaps with an eagerness you hadn’t anticipated that draws a soft sound from your throat. Lawrence swallows down your groan, wanting more, feel you more, taste you more, feel all that livelihood that seems to emanate from you.

The kiss grows, heat building as your arms string around his neck and hands tangle in his blonde hair as it falls messily from its elastic. Lawrence leans, arms circling around your waist, a soft grunt muffled against your lips as he dares to deepen the kiss, tongue tracing your lower lip before being granted. Being able to explore inside of your mouth before pressing you down into the mattress. He can feel every breath you take, the expanding and compression of your chest, the way your heart thrums against your chest- Lawrence swears he can hear your heartbeat. Or maybe it’s his own pounding in his hears. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is more. More.

And you seem of the same mind. Your hands drift down to his hoodie, moving to push it off his shoulders and Lawrence awkwardly shrugs out of it, loathe to part from your lips even to breathe. With you on your back, his hands take the opportunity to roam, albeit shakily. Taking in every curve, noting the muscle and fat on your body- soft under his larger hands and so very warm. Lawrence could get lost in you endlessly. He wanted to. Parting only for a moment, his breathing ragged, you seem to waste no time as you greedily take in air while yanking your shirt up and over your head and reaching for the buttons of his plaid shirt. It isn’t long between the two of you, clumsy hands- some from alcohol and others from lack of real heated experience, before clothes are strewn over your floor and you and Lawrence are a tangle of limbs on your bed. His body cages you in, body anchored to you as he savors each sensation, each beautiful sound he’s able to pull from your lips, feeling the way your body moves and the way it works against his own. Lawrence reminds himself to be affectionate, what he was taught affection is supposed to look like through media consumption anyway, though with you it’s easier. It’s so lovely to kiss along your neck, feel you gasp and shudder, to feel your pulse flutter under his lips. “...feels…fuck…so good…” he groans lowly against your skin.

Lawrence can almost picture the expression on your face as you give a chime of laughter and dare to roll your hips against his own, feeling his erection straining against the cotton of his boxers in a very obvious tent. “It can feel better…I can make you feel better…” You croon softly and that’s the snap that breaks him. Pulling away so abruptly you look up at him owlishly, he shoves his boxers down his pale thighs, impulse and need overriding most if not all thought in this moment. The desperation that burned through Lawrence to feel you from the inside.You lift your hips accordingly as he paws at your underwear before they slip down your legs and carelessly discarded with everything else. Bare before each other, there’s the briefest moment between the way the two of you have been interlocked, drinking the other one in. Before Lawrence’s hands grip the meat of your hips and tugs you closer with a strength you usually thought was reserved for the warehouse, not that you minded. The feeling of his fingers digging into your skin, you certainly wouldn’t mind a little bruising if not more come morning.

“Just…Just stay still…Just let me…” He pants, his eyes clouded and glazed over, transfixed as he mumbles almost to himself and you arch your back just so to give him a better angle as one hand releases you to line his aching cock up to your sweet entrance.First he notches the bulbous head in and groans, chest heaving with every breath as you bite your lip with a soft whine- spurning him on, urging him to just push. And so he does, inch by inch, Lawrence spears you on his length and his eyes threaten to roll back into his skull. You feel divine; tight, wet, impossibly warm around him as you clench like a vice that his his hips already stutter the first time within you. Sweat already begins to bead his forehead as Lawrence’s jaw clenches- as tempting as it is, he couldn’t bear the embarrassment if he came undone within you so quickly.

You keen below him, hushed little murmur of, “Please…fuck, Law…need you, please.” While resting your hands on his shoulders with a little squeeze, you don’t mean to rush him, really you don’t- but you’d wanted this, thought about this, more times than you cared to count. And with a little liquid courage in your veins, you finally fucking had it. Had him.

And surely, he begins to rock his hips. The push and pull between you growing as Lawrence begins to rut within you, rhythm building and pressure mounting as you buck your hips in kind, pushing him deeper until his cockhead nudged against that delicious spot within you that made your lashes flutter and moans spill from your lips. Ordinarily, Lawrence wasn’t one for much noise- but the music muffled anything beyond your door and these sounds were for him and him alone. Shouldering your legs over his shoulders, Lawrence picks up his pace and his hips snap against you, heavy balls wetly slapping against your ass that has you squeak until you relax some in his grip. It leaves you helpless, putty as he fucks you into the mattress with reckless abandon now- your headboard knocking against the wall with each brutal thrust as he moans and grunts above you. While the sight of your is ever enticing, something Lawrence wants to burn into the folds of his brain, the need to feel close to you wins as he hunches over, nearly folding you in two. Hands bracing on the bed as he buries his face in the crux of your neck and shoulder as he kisses along the skin, breathing hotly into your ear as he continues to pump his cock into you. “...close…so…need to feel you…so warm…so fucking good…” Lawrence babbles to you, drunk on the euphoria as he feels pleasure coil hot in his stomach, on the brink.

So close.

“L-Law…’m not…a-ah, oh fuck…!” You gasp and choke on your words as you’re pinned below him, bliss drawn over your flushed features as your brain struggles to send words to your mouth, “...’m not gonna last...just like that, like that…!” You encourage as he surges with renewed vigor. Lawrence wants, no, needs to feel you come undone around. What you feel like when overcome with pleasure, what you look like, all of it. He grits his teeth before finding better use for his mouth, latching onto your throat to suckle a deep mottled mark into your skin that has you nearly scream into the room before he claps a hand over your lips to muffle it as he feels you contract around him. Convulsing, throbbing, spasming all around him in a way that Lawrence shuddering as his engorged cock finally empties itself within you, the excess forming a creamy ring around the base of his shaft and dripping down the plush swell of your ass onto the duvet. Ragged huffs fan over the hickey now left into your skin as Lawrence gives a few more languid, shallow strokes to enjoy the lingering feeling of you tightly wrapped around him as you try to catch your breath with a few low sounds of complacency. Sated, Lawrence almost begrudgingly lowers your legs carefully and his piercing eyes look up at you- trying to gage if you might be disappointed or upset, but instead is met with a bleary, satisfied smile and a breathy chuckle.

“...fuck, Law. I knew you had in you.” You mutter playfully before resting your arm over your sweaty forehead and Lawrence can feel his lips quirk ever so slightly. Something akin to pride settling in him slightly, but he remains knelt between your legs as a silence settles over the pair of you and you raise your arm to peek at him. Wordlessly, you pat shift and shuffle, peeling back the blankets and patting the spot next to you.

“But…your party…?”

“I’m pretty sure people heard and I’m pretty sure they didn’t. What’re they gonna do? Rob me? I don’t have shit.” You chuckle, though Lawrence seems to give pause and glance to the door. His reluctance seems to sober you some as you sit up slightly. “Uh…unless you wanted to go.” You try to keep your tone steady not to betray the tinge of hurt that creeps in all the same.

“No…! No, that’s not what I want…uhm…” Lawrence awkwardly scoots off your bed and grabs his boxers to tug on padding to your door and opening it a crack, peeking and listening for any other life in your apartment. The music had since stopped and it was still silence.With the knowledge your apartment is now empty, Lawrence locks your door for you before returning into bed and you just smile. The simplest thing, as if this was normal. Maybe it was, Lawrence sure as fuck didn’t know what that was, but this was nice. This was beautiful. You were beautiful.

Slowly, he moves to the other side of the bed and slides in beside you. Lawrence has not slept next to another person, honestly it was never something he thought he would like but it feels like it’s both what you want and what is expected. And frankly- it could be worse. “...Can I…?” He shuffles under the blankets, swathed in your detergent and perfume, his frame shifts over yours and his head presses to your chest where he can hear the steady beat of your heart. The intrusive thought rings in through his head that he could have it, have that piece of you forever. Sealing this moment forever between the two of you...but he pushes it to the back of his head. No, another part of him didn’t want that- as tempting as it may be. If he took that part of you, this wouldn’t be possible. And Lawrence wanted this, whatever this may be, and more of it. More of you. Sex. Intimacy. The touch and warmth of another living being. It was odd, it was still something Lawrence was trying to make sense of. A way that this could remain but you might still be wholly his. All his. Only his.

Lawrence’s reverie is broken only by your arms encircling him and hugging him close to you, one hand carding through his hair to keep his head pressed to your chest as you hum in contentment. “Night, Law.” You mutter with an affectionate kiss to his head as you reach an arm out to turn off your lamp and succumb to sleep. Lawrence lingered awake a while longer, his nocturnal nature something he was grateful for as he relished in the soft breaths while you slept, how your heart slows, the sweet silence as he curls around your body and eventually, an hour or so after observing you, Lawrence sleeps as well.

Eventually sunlight dapples through your blinds, making Lawrence crinkle his nose slightly- he wasn’t accustomed to this. Not that he slept poorly necessarily, but it would take a day or so to get his circadian rhythm back. But it hadn’t been a waste as you groggily rouse beside him with a sleepy smile. “...Hey.” You greet warmly, throat still raspy from sleep as you push some of his bangs from his face. “You sleep okay?” Lawrence nods slowly, drinking in this vulnerable vision of you as you yawn and roll to look at him on your pillow. “You want breakfast or something?” You offer up with that languid smile and something akin to adoration lingering in your eyes, the afterglow looked all the more prepossessing on you. “I have some of that tea still that I brought you a few days ago.”

He pushes up to sit and chews his lip for a moment. Maybe a part of Lawrence had hoped. Had known. “Uh…actually I, uh…I brought some tea for you. I can make us some.” He replies slowly, shifting his gaze to look at you, testing your reaction, if you would find it odd that he brought something besides the wine.

“Aw! Yeah, I’d love that.” You grin and sit up as well, moving to tug fresh underwear on and a large shirt, “You know where the kitchen is, the kettle is on the stove. I’m just gonna freshen up quick.” And with that you disappear into the bathroom while Lawrence prepares you his own specialty brew.

#lawrence oleander #btd lawrence #lawrence oleander x reader #btd lawrence x reader #btd x reader #boyfriend to death lawrence #boyfriend to death lawrence oleander #boyfriend to death #boyfriend to death x reader

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non-un-topo · 27 days ago

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Siggy's Old Guard Fic Favourites Masterlist!

Welcome back, fandom! I decided to finally make a big fic rec list and there are a lot. You know the drill: some have definitely been on lists before, though I tried to highlight some lesser-known ones.

This is also a compilation that reflects my specific interests. As such, the vast majority of these are canon-universe, or pre-canon historical. I will separate them by canon universe and AU/canon-divergent for convenience.

In no particular order:

Canon Universe

A Glacier Moving Through You (10k) - harryhotspur

An exploration of Joe and Nicky’s life in New York during the AIDS crisis. Painfully beautiful and viscerally realistic. Reminds me of what we take for granted. Those who know me know I never shut up about this fic.

Some favourite lines: Their eyes met in a way that said wordlessly, I see you. I am part of your family. Nicky saw David’s shoulders relax and the tears fell from his eyes. He sniffed and wiped them away. Other recs from this author: everything feels too large (the steadings and the fields) (22k), An Unexpected Disruption (2.6k).

Old Olives (21k) - aeili_kindara

A crusades-era fic that I read years ago and it just glued itself into my brain. The author has a slightly different take on Yusuf and Nicolo’s first meeting, in which they actually cross each other at a few different battles on the way to Jerusalem. It’s just incredibly well-written and detailed. Feels like reading a novel or watching a movie.

Some favourite lines: Yusuf’s grin hovers, then broadens. “See you around, then.” Nicolo gives him a bow. “I expect you will.” As he’s walking away, he hears the arrow rather than sees it. He tips his head sideways; it whirs over his shoulder and thunks into the heart of an olive tree. Nicolo doesn’t turn back to look. He twangs the quivering arrow with one finger as he walks by, and hears a voice laughing from the walls. All the way back to camp, he doesn’t stop smiling.

Conviction (21k) - fadagaski

Unfinished, but I urge people to read this one because it is so worth it. Set before the events of the movie, while Andy is travelling alone, the boys take on a job in the Philippines where they end up on either side of a conflict that runs deeper than they expect. This author is so good at tension and details, I was hooked.

Some favourite lines: Nicky pats his shoulder. “Poor Booker,” he says to Joe, “he’s been drinking so much crap since we left him that it has rotted his brain.” Booker shoves him flat, landing in a sprawl across Joe, all three of them laughing as Booker leans across the pair of them to try to steal the bottle from Joe, but Nicky gets there first. It’s been a very long time since Booker has felt a smile on his face. His cheeks ache with the unfamiliar arrangement of muscle.

for i have sinned (8.5k) - apocryphal

Can’t say much about this, to avoid spoilers. I recommend going in blind. It’s just a fantastic character study, with a huge gut punch.

Some favourite lines: Immortality breeds muscle memory by necessity, a brain overloaded with a thousand years of life, seizing on any opportunity it can find to run on autopilot. Joe still reaches for a waterskin he hasn’t carried in seven hundred years. He regularly finds his sword in his hand with no recollection of drawing it. And he will never remember whether or not he finished strapping Andy’s kevlar, that day.

the axe forgets, the tree remembers (19k) - Flamingbluepanda

Post-movie. After being captured and tortured by some of Kozak’s new guys, Joe loses all of his memories and has to start over again in New York. Meanwhile, the team search for him everywhere.

Some favourite lines: Nicky let out an angry roar and punched a wall hard enough that one of his fingers broke and sent the proximal phalanx pushing through the skin. He didn’t even care or hesitate; he just shook his hand through the air and turned to walk away. And that was when Andy shot him in the leg. Nicky collapsed, then rolled smoothly onto his back and raised his gun, eyes wild. “Che cazzo, Andy?” “You wanna get angry and fight something, you fight me,” Andy said, voice low and cold. Nicky narrowed his eyes.

no one does it better (13.8k) - maddielle

While Nile decides to go back to school and take a sexualities elective, Nicky delves into one of her textbooks. He and Joe decide to try their own hand at porn and accidentally get really into it. It’s just a delightful read, and reminds me how old and in love these guys are.

Some favourite lines: “I know what sex is,” Nicky tells him confidently. “I’ve been having sex for nine hundred years. It isn’t this.” “It is for some people, love,” Joe comments, warmly amused, but Nicky shakes his head. “No, this is- There’s no passion. No connection. No one looks like this.” He catches a thumbnail of a slight woman strung up in ropes, all of the knots tied wrong. “It’s irresponsible.” Other recs from this author: come as you are (6k), older now (but not done hoping) (2.5k)

Cabinet of Nonperishable Curiosities (3k) - KushielsMercy

A meditation on Joe and Nicky as a 900-year-old unit. Made me really think about what it means to be together for so many centuries, and it stayed with me for long time after reading. This author always writes so vividly and beautifully too, and I especially love the playfulness between Joe and Nicky in this one.

Some favourite lines: They sit in silence, Nicky’s feet knocking gently back and forth against Joe’s shoulders. Joe always processes Nicky’s body as an extension of his own, but he’s uncomfortably aware of it this morning. Why is it he feels an absence of self when Nicky’s heels float away? “How much of us,” Nicky finally murmurs, “is each other?” Other recs from this author: Daughter of Dust (1k)

if i’d have lived longer (i still would have waited) (5.4k)- knoepfchen

Pre-canon. An exploration of Joe and parenthood. I re-read this one often, since it’s become very special and personal to me. Truly a beautiful fic.

Some favourite lines: He would have expected Nicolò to be with them, seeing as his skills with a bow nearly rival Quynh’s by now, but he is not. Yusuf rounds the square and finally spots Nicolò crouching in the awning of a side street leading away from the square, surrounded by a throng of children. For a moment, it looks like Nicolò is telling them a story, and Yusuf can picture it, that earnest way of his—but then Nicolò stands to his full height again, one of the children hanging onto his back like a little bear. Yusuf is too far away to hear, but he sees Nicolò’s lips move as he makes what is undoubtedly a whooshing sound, spinning on the spot, arms outstretched. The children shriek in delight, the one on his back the loudest. Other recs from this author: all this time (15.9k), a thicket of shadows is a poor coat (32.8k)

world enough and time (9.5k) - raedear

Post-canon. A delightful fic in which Nicky takes a reluctant Andy to the dentist, and Joe and Nile talk after Joe tells her about a recurring nightmare Nicky has. It has all the emerging found family feels that we all love, as well as that ancient love between Andy and the boys.

Some favourite lines: ‘Nicky had a dream,’ Joe says, as though that explains why he’s the one out of sorts. Maybe it does. Maybe after nine hundred years, they dream the same dreams too. ‘He almost died on the crossing to Jerusalem, you know.’ She didn’t. ‘He dreams sometimes that he did, and because of that he walks alone through this life. It always leaves him shaken.’ It’s not Nicky sitting in front of her, pale at the edges and clutching his coffee like a lifeline. Other recs from this author: I can tell (we are gonna be friends) (1.9k), an astonishment of form (3.7k)

beholder (19k) - liadan14

A throughout-history compilation of Joe and the muse, with himself as the muse, and times he was inspired by others. There’s a story at the end of this fic that Joe wrote that is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read, and I think about it so much. There’s also Joe being a total dumbass in love.

Some favourite lines: For a moment, Nicolò simply continued looking at him, the humor in his eyes softening to something kinder and gentler. Then, he said, “Yusuf, I love you.” “I need to take those bowls to Ahmed,” Yusuf said. Other recs from this author: constant stars (1.5k)

I live on kindness, faith and constant courage (37.7k) - Tam_Cranver

A medieval queer quartet fic set in France that is just incredibly well written. What else can I say? The details, the plot, and the dynamics between the immortals are all perfect. This author is incredible.

Some favourite lines: Yusuf barked out a surprised laugh. “Alas, I’m still not certain I’m up to the task of being Andromache’s husband,” he said in mock mournfulness. “Few men are,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at him. “Now come, help me see if this dress will work for me.” Other recs from this author: Stop, listen, feel, believe (17.2k), The Plate of the Eclipses (90.5k)

whatever here that’s left of me (12.7k) - paigian

After Booker’s departure, the team takes some time off, and Nicky develops an old recurring pain in his shoulder that gets increasingly worse. This fic is all about loss, love, betrayal, and the sheer weight of these things. Gorgeous and timeless.

Some favourite lines: What are these shoulders for? Holding up the weight of Booker’s loneliness; the backs of Joe’s knees; keeping a rifle steady for the kill. Catching a bullet next to the scapula meant for Andy as they escaped that awful building; as a place for Nile to lean against as every bone in her body stitched back together- Other recs from this author: you made a fool of death with your beauty (15.6k), the deaths of nicolo di genova, in ascending order of sexiness and descending order of actual dying (14.2k), the Beyond Measure and Reason series (61.9k)

As The World Falls Down (5.2k) - superblackmarket

One of the first fics I ever read in this fandom. What can I say about superblackmarket? Just fantastic and gorgeously written, every fic.

Some favourite lines: Then one day he woke up—he couldn’t have said what time it was, whether it was morning or evening—and Nicky was sitting at the foot of his bed, looking at him. “Hello, Booker,” he said. He wore a grey kameez over military fatigues and his eyes were like chips of jade. Probably a hallucination, Booker thought. “What’re you doing here?” he asked, slurring his words. “Thought you were up in, uh, whatchamacallit, the…” “How long have you been like this?” Nicky said. Other recs from this author: Tales of Burning Love (5.8k), Ere Babylon Was Dust (7.2k)……… all of them.

Gentle (2.7k) - AphroditesTummyRolls

A very sweet fic about Nicolo and his mama. Made me very misty-eyed. It’s always emotional to think that these war-seasoned immortals were once little children.

Some favourite lines: Her heart squeezed in her chest, and she smoothed his soft hair where it stuck up in a cowlicky tuft. She loved her baby, she loved him. He was so big now, he weighed on her arms. He gripped at her with his little dumpling fists, and she prayed he’d never let her go. She never wanted to stop holding him.

Centuries and Centuries (102.4k) - marbletopempire

Possibly one of the first crusades-era getting together fics in this fandom, and a famous one but I’m still putting it here. This fic is incredibly written, and such an intimate look into Yusuf and Nicolo’s past. Part of the reason for this is that it’s written entirely in first-person, which I’m a sucker for.

Some favourite lines: Once, when I was a child, I sat on my father’s shoulders and watched as a man was hanged. The crowd was thick, full of laughter, and had the air of a festival. I watched as the man was led up to the gallows, his hands drawn behind his back. His face was one of terror – even at my young age I could tell – and as he looked out over the crowd his wild eyes locked onto mine. People jeered and threw rotten food at him but he did not flinch. He smiled at me briefly before they obscured his head with a sack. Sodomite, I heard whispered around me.

though i’m dying to (fall in love with you) (19.6k) - yusufsmoon

Nicky finds himself hopping between alternate dimensions, finding Joe in each one. This is a comfort classic to me, it just fills me with so much joy.

Some favourite lines: He takes in the way Joe’s eyes are regarding him; there’s an assuredness in those brown depths, that he realizes reminds him of Andy, of Quynh, even, before they lost her. Like they could take on the weight of the world with a smile.

life is very long (7k) - kaydeefalls

The OG description does it perfectly: Nicky and his immortal family, over the centuries. This fic is a forever favourite, full of love and wonder for the world and the immortal family.

Some favourite lines: "Come, habibi," Yusuf murmurs, so close that his beard tickles along Nicolo's neck. "Will you not join me?" Nicolo closes his eyes, trying to keep his breathing even. "I cannot dance." Yusuf presses a kiss into the soft skin just below his ear. "I promise you, this is a dance you know." Other recs from this author: Carthaginians (53k), catch you when the current lets you go (5.4k)

July 1982 (9k) - WarriorOmen

I read this one every summer, I swear. It’s got Joe on a motorcycle, clubbing, and the immortal husbands just being absolutely smitten for each other.

Some favourite lines: 900 years old. He’s 900 years old and completely rooted to the ground from surging lust and excitement because, sitting in the parking lot of this store, is Joe. But it’s not just Joe, it’s some iteration of Joe that is currently straddling a massive black motorcycle, leaning over the handlebars like he owns the thing (which Nicky really hopes he does) and staring straight at Nicky with all the confidence of someone who has well and truly surprised his husband. Other recs from this author: My Blade, My Love (2k)

Rain Season (6k) - yu_gin

This fic takes place after the Chernobyl disaster, where Joe is in a period of depression. The way the reactor is described is so scary, I feel like it’s this ever-surveying, hulking, breathing beast. And the way the effect of radiation on the immortals is described… there’s one small scene that will forever be in my head.

Some favourite lines: That night he went to the reactor once again. He pushed himself closer than ever, determined to look the monster in the eyes. He could feel the heat increasing and the air burning his lungs. He knew what would come, he was familiar with the excruciating pain, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Fast Car (7.9k) - PastyPirate

Joe and Nicky go for a Thanksgiving road trip in the 90s. This fic has one of the best and goofiest representations of the immortal husbands’ relationships I’ve ever read, and the dialogue is so realistic. A major comfort read that I think about all the time.

Some favourite lines: “This is more of a general present,” He held up the cassette, tilting it where Nicky could read the label. Nicky tilted his head to read, and burst into laughter, “you asshole.” Joe looked at the label, Sad Songs for Nicky written in clear script for this very moment, “What? No good? I have another.” He held up the second cassette Happy Songs for Joe scribbled on it.

James Copley’s No Good Very Bad Year (12.7k) - Dr_Amuly

Absolutely delightful fic about the cleanup after Merrick’s, where Joe and Nicky “help” Copley (they fuck with him) go through the old pictures, while Copley hasn’t figured out that they’re a couple.

Some favourite lines: “Joe,” Nicky gentled. “We are nearly a thousand years old.” “I’m thirty-three!” Joe protested. “Anno di Cristi…” Nicky sing-songed under his breath. Joe kicked him—lovingly, of course—under the table.

the profession of my fingers (24.9k) - mellyflori

A classic. This is one of those fics that reminds me why I love these characters so so much. Basically a compilation throughout history of Nicky worshipping Joe’s curls. It’s got some of the tenderest moments. Their love feels really tangible and believable here.

Some favourite lines: "Surely, Lord, you’ve sent this man to test me.” “Did you want me to test you? Because I can—“ “Thank you, Lord, for the gift of this great compassionate spirit in my life.” Other recs from this author: there’s a trick with a knife (i’m learning to do) (65.2k)

Impelled by the Persuasion of Love (2.4k) - Lolo (TheLittleLo)

The queer quartet + courtly love! I read this when the zine came out years ago, then re-read it while I was taking a class in Arthurian literature, and it really has it all. Short but sweet, and I adore how the author writes the dynamic between the four immortals. Feels like a lovely bedtime story.

Some favourite lines: “Can I stay with you tonight?” “I think we can risk one night. You are meant to be the brother of my lady wife, after all.” Nico made a face of disgust. “Do not remind me,” Nico said, and he titled his head up to press his lips to Joseph’s.

the dark matter of you (12.9k) - Syysmyrsky (Arktikko)

Gorgeously written meditation on Yusuf and Nicolo’s early love through Yusuf’s account of an old relationship, and through Nicolo’s eyes. Very vivid and realistic, goofy at times, gets me right in the gut and feels so believable as a conversation between these two. Reminds me why I love their love.

Some favourite lines: It feels so natural, he thinks as he looks at Yusuf, to be with this man, to love him. The more he does, the more it feels like perhaps loving Yusuf is what he has always been meant to do. It certainly had felt like destiny when Yusuf had kissed him that rainy afternoon, urgent and just a little desperate. Hurried, until Nicolò, hands still wet from the rain but so careful, had stroked his palm down Yusuf’s broad back slowly, sweetly, and something in both of them slowed down and settled. Calm like coming home. Other recs from this author: The Devil’s Eye (6.2k)

Per usual it didn’t go as planned (but as it should) (19.8k)- linascribbles

Post-movie. The team spends some time in Peru. I come back to this fic every time I need comfort and some Nile love, it’s just so soft and good.

Some favourite lines: "Nile!" Andy exclaims suddenly, eyes going wide and bright on the mirror. "I'm gonna get wrinkles!" She sounds thrilled about it. "You'll finally get to contest Joe on that," Nile replies, voice full of laughter. Andy pumps her fist.

The Lamp of Nicholas (20.5k) - ViridianPanther

A crusades-era fic in which Yusuf and Nicolo part ways, and Yusuf finds himself captured and imprisoned in a tower. Such a fun one that feels like a bedtime story or legend. It also got me obsessed with the word “defenestrate.”

Some favourite lines: “—and I saw why the Almighty chose to bless us both with a reprieve from death. Because I have been the receiver of his kindness. And now I will never be able to thank him for that, I will never be able to tell him how much I loved him. Because I let him go back to the place that turned him into a monster, and now—” Other recs from this author: The Death of You (22.7k)

Ten Ounces (3.5k) - suchA_Consequentialist

Post-canon, the aftermath of Joe being kidnapped and tortured. A beautiful fic with a gut-punch. This author is a master of bildup and the gut-punch, I am so so obsessed with it. Can’t say much without spoiling, I think it’s just best to go into this one blind.

Some favourite lines: Against Joe’s chest, Nicky’s hand stays still and flat. He looks stricken and desperate as his hand presses harder against the skin. There is no scar. There can't be. So, Nicky can't know. Other recs from this author: A River Arrives in the House of the Dead Men (The Prodigious Flowering Rage) (4.8k)

To kindle a spark in the darkness (7k) - Nary

Pre-canon outsider POV in the 15th century. This fic has everything I love, following a man named Hassan who encounters the immortals at different times in his life. Follows the thesis of the movie perfectly, and it’s gorgeously written. Feels like watching a movie.

Some favourite lines: Then Yusuf gave a sharp gasp, sitting up. Hassan scrambled back in alarm. Yusuf felt his chest with one hand, fumbling for his weapon with the other. "Ugh, one of them has an arquebus," he said, almost to himself, and then, noticing Hassan a few feet away, he gave a rueful smile. "I didn't mean for you to see that, little one."

Making the Marauders (62.2k) - nizzuto

A medieval Yusuf and Nicolo adventure, a Robin Hood story. They work together covertly to try and convince a greedy duke to have some compassion for his people, and this goes as well as one would expect. This author is a master of epics and tension, so it’s hard to choose a favourite, but this one always has me on the edge of my seat.

Some favourite lines (my favourite line is a spoiler, so): “I,” Nicolò starts and stops and starts again, “He believes I am a harbinger of the Lord. I told him that I was to spread a message of mercy and altruism.” “My Nicolò,” Yusuf says breathlessly. “An angel!” Other recs from this author: He, Dreamless (126.7k), A Man Called Mercy (17k)

The Extraordinarily Complex Task of Condensing a 920-Year-Old Romance into a 145-Word Speech (While Being Abducted) (47.3k) - Liketheriver

An anthology following Yusuf and Nicolo through the centuries, with each scene relating to one line in Joe’s van speech. This fic has everything, everything. It’s such a tasty treat when you’re looking for action, angst, hurt and comfort, romance, and historical accuracy.

Some favourite lines: “Oh, Yusuf,” Nicolo’s breath hitched, and Yusuf could feel warm tears against his neck. “It’s gone. All of it is gone.” Yusuf cupped the back of Nicolo’s head, held him tighter. “I know, my soul, but at least you are not.”

Guiding You Through (6.2k) - mekana47

Post-canon, Booker & Nicky centric. The team is on an undercover mission when Nicky is given a truth serum, and Booker watches over a screen. I’m a sucker for the Nicky & Booker brotherly dynamic, and this fic just hits it right on the head.

Some favourite lines: “He signaled,” Booker traces over the screen. Nicky’s head has dropped to one side, but his hand closest to the camera has two fingers pressed flat against his leg and the other three tucked into a fist. “You have a signal for truth serums,” Nile says flatly. Other recs from this author: Code Pink (700 words), Hold Tight (3.3k)

Illustrious Pagans (6k) - saintsideways

Exactly as it says: Five times Joe and Nicky did drugs. There’s something about this fic that I just want to eat. It’s silly and delightful at times, sexy and mind-bendy at others.

Some favourite lines: “Someone’s house, I guess,” Yusuf said, drowsily. “Is this your hallucination or mine?” “Does it matter?” IT DOES NOT said the eyes, watching them benignly.

Take What You Can (15.7k) - theoxfordcommando

An Old Guard x Pirates of the Caribbean au, executed flawlessly. What more could I ever want? Incomplete, but still very worth the read. The author fit the characters into their roles so perfectly, I just adore it.

Some favourite lines: “I dreamed about you last night.” The words came out much softer than Yusuf had meant them to. Like a whispered confession in the dark hours of night. Nicolò’s eyes widened just a fraction and there, that look he knew. Nicolò was embarrassed. “About the day we met,” Yusuf quickly clarified, less of a whisper this time. “Do you remember it?” Other recs from this author: Lingering Aches (1.6k), The Ballad of Robin Hood and Nicolo (7k)

right where you left me (115.4k) - dreamtiwasanarchitect, liadan14

Canon-divergent au. I can’t say much about this one without spoilers, just… God. Please read this one. I’ve never been able to get it out of my head.

Some favourite lines: Sometimes, he wonders what signal got crossed there, how it is that Nicky’s body takes pain and humiliation and turns them into bright, incandescent pleasure so well.

The Town By The Empty Lake (89.4k) - OldMagpie (Magpie Morality)

This fic deserves so much more everything — kudos, comments, bookmarks. It’s a gorgeous Lovecraftian mystery with an ensemble cast, incredible art and a playlist to match. Just fully immersive. I could picture it all so clearly in my mind.

Some favourite lines: She rears back, heart thumping wildly, unsure what had prompted such a visceral reaction. She only knows she does not want to look at the painting again. Poor Yusuf al-Kaysani, maybe he is going mad - to have painted this and then placed it in his room to watch while he sleeps…

i love the way you see the world (series) (40k) - flightofwonder

A canon-divergent au series in which Joe is deaf. I just want to rec the whole series, because it’s hard to pick one out of it. A true classic.

Some favourite lines: He had never needed to hear the prayers, only to feel them. He trusted in Allah to guide him with the rest.

.....and so many more.

#the old guard #tog #tog fic rec #the old guard fic rec #idk how to tag #i'm sorry reid tumblr would NOT let me hyperlink your ao3 it literally crashed 6 times #some of the author links straight up would not save so idk #i hope you all give all these authors lots of comments and kudos!!! this took me days lol!!#it's 10pm and my wrist is killing me from all the mouse clicking!!!!#and of course there are so many more

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muntitled · 7 months ago

Note

Would you ever make a Rodrick Heffley (Devon Bostick) x black!fem goth reader?

She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named

Rodrick Heffley x afab!reader

Summary: Sleeping with him hadn't been a mistake. Your only mistake was leaving the morning after.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Perv!Rodrick, Fluff, Insecurities, Goth!Reader, Rodrick is Whipped, Smut +18 (mdni), Make Up Sex, Praise Kink, Bondage, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Needy Sex, Fingering

You were not a weak person, nor are you ever so overly emotional.

In fact, most of everyone who knew you ( admittedly a very small amount) would describe you as anything but weak

So what the hell is this?

"What do you think I should say when I get there?” Your voice is as rocky as a glacier and the sun is burning heavily through your fishnets. You could feel every heat ray seep through your long sleeved Black Sabbath shirt and your make up was feeling particularly cakey. Were it not for your best friend forcing you to face Rodrick, you would've been happy to spend the rest of your day huddled up in your listening, listening to the grave sounds of Bauhaus as you unplaited your hair.

The sun wouldn't normally be a problem for you. You'd wear these clothes if the sun was at your doorstep.

But right now, your senses are heightened. The stares you get wouldn't normally bother you, but this friday afternoon, they're piercing all over you.

"You look constipated," your best friend says as she clutches her glitter covered notebook to her chest. "Stop that-" her lips stained in hot pink pull into a downwards smile.

In contrast, your black stained lips are pulled in a very obvious frown while the dread consumes your face. You walk side by side towards the boys dorm and usually the juxtapositioning doesn't bother you, but a great many things bother you today. You feel like a dark cloud beside her quirky pink perfumed self. Her hair is long and reigned in with a pink bow while your black braids were constantly tied back with a black knitted scrunchie. The juxtaposition didnt bother you.

This afternoon, you’re just hyper-aware of all the boys peppered outside the dormitories. And all their eyes are looking through you. As if you were nothing but a spectre.

Everyone except Rodrick seemed to look through you. When you had met him, it was as if a veil was lifted and suddenly you were thrust into the light.

You had been wall-flowering at a party in your first year of university. Your best friend, lost among the crown while you dug your earbuds in.

If it weren't for the shadow that had fallen over your frame, you might have fallen asleep right then and there, to the sound of Ghost’s instrumentals blasting in your eardrums.

You noticed him waving frantically at you, having yet to remove your earbuds. You didn't know what to make of his thickly applied eyeliner or his messy-on-purpose head of hair. But back then, you didn't really trust this university setting.

For all you knew, his Joy Division shirt was a means to trap unsuspecting weird girls into sleeping with him.

And so with a very unimpressed frown you had shaked your head and said, “Sorry, I dont have any change,”

He threw his head back in laughter at that.

He liked you even more now.

Sure you were the only girl at this party he could ever imagine exchanging saliva with but now he realised you had a personality too? He was a goner.

“I’m not homeless,” His voice reached your ears and you soon realised that he had forcefully removed one bud, “Just wanted to ask you what you were drinking,”

“Why?” Your eyes scanned from his face, to his worn out boots, “Are you planning on messing with it?”

“Jesus,” He cackled, “I should've mentioned that I’m very clearly not a member of any sort of frat.” He raised his hands and said, “I come in peace,”

“I’m not planning on sleeping with you,”

“I dont need to drug you to get you to sleep woth me,” He leaned awkwardly against the wall and said, “I’m in a band,”

“That doesnt work on me,”

Except it had, and that very evening you and Rodrick had exchanged saliva in a very long make out session that carried you to his on-campus dorm room.

The very building you are currently navigating, in search of his room.

“I can feel my heart beating out my ribcage,” Your best friend stops in front of a door, one of many down a very long hall.

“It's fault for ditching the guy the morning after,”

“I didn't ditch him,” You murmured, staring at the floor in shame,

“I'm sorry,” she says, “but the walk of shame story I keep hearing from the football boys about the girl dressed in black fleeing the halls can only be one person-”

“Just go talk to your boyfirned,” You had grumbled.” The door swung open. Your best friend pushed you in the direction of room 7112 as she said, “And you go talk to yours,”

Before you left, you quickly asked, “So, I like… look okay?”

She shook her head, causing another nauseating wave of anxiety to flood your system. “You look like you crawled out of a cemetery.” She says, assessing your very plain and incredibly boring black long-sleeve shirt and your ripped black skirt worn overy ripped stockings.

“Which is how you usually look,” She says, causing your heart to lessen its alarm, “All that black lipstick will send the Freakshow into an absolute spiral,” She winked before sending you on your merry way.

When Rodreick Heffley hears a knock on his door, he almost immediately assumes it's for his roomate. Then he remembers he’s a third year, with no roommate in sight. “Uh-What is it!?” Is all he screamed at the door, hoping that whoever it is would leave him alone. He hadn't been too close, the actress on his laptop screen was far too loud, and far too… perky. He knew that if he closed his eyes and just focused hard enough, he'd be rid of this horrible boner that had been plaguing him for weeks.

Since you left him.

“Don’t do that,” Rodrick squeezed his eyes shut, “Do not think about she-who-shall-not-be-named.” The knock sounded again and he angrily paused his video as he stuffed his cock back into his jeans. Rodrick cursed as he wied his hand with some clothing item littering across his floor and his voice is less-than-friendly when he rips the door open.

“Uh-”

He has to take a moment to close his eyes. When he opens them, you are standing there, sheepishly raising your hand to wave.

“She-who-shall-not-be-named,” He says in an airy whisper.

“What?” You tilt your head questioningly.

Before you can get another word out Rodrick slams the door in your face. Unbeknownst to you, he’s trying to get rid of a week's worth of masturbation material. Evidence of how badly you had affected him, how lonely he had been since you left. He even opened the curtains and when he opened the door again, you noticed he smelled vaguely like aftershave.

“W-What brings you back here?” He tries to be cold. He really does. But this is you. His heart is soaring at the very sight of you.

Beautiful you.

In your dark eyeliner and equally dark lips.

He looks away because he has to. You hadnt even said more than 5 words to him but his body was already having a very niticebale response to your presence.

He opens the door wider as he lets you in, “Did you forget something?” He all but sneers and you squeeze your eyes shut as you slide his door closed behind you. You were in this room again and the flashbacks were almost unstoppable. You remembered the way he kissed you. The way he prioritised your pleasure-

“I’m sorry,” You say, completely knocking the wind out of him, “When I left like how I did, I thought I was protecting myself… I didn't know if you wanted anything serious,”

“I would’ve told you I did,” He says, staring at the ground as he stands in the middle of the room, like a tall tree lost in the middle of nowhere, “but we were a little too preoccupied sucking face,”

You snort at that, and he smiles too.

He didn't wanna admit how terribly he had taken your departure. You were the first girl that liked him back. The first girl to actually like his presence. The first girl he could talk to about the things that made him smile. The sleepless nights bled into restless days. Days spent coaxing a jumpy knee under every table…

“So you missed me then?” A smirk flitted on his face as he folded his arms. You rolled your eyes as the cockiness reared its head, moving to sit down on his bed as you hid your smile.

“I didn't say all that,” You declared,

"Don't be like that," he says stalking towards you, his voice suddenly serious but a smile still present, "I know you missed me,"

The arrogance dripping from his voice escalates your blood pressure and sends all your inner systems into overdrive. As his shadow falls over you, you unconsciously lean further against the bed until you're lying supine. "You look like a whore," You can't help but say, eyeing his tight short sleeve shirt showing off a sliver of his waist.

He gasps, "Whatever do you mean?" Rodrick playfully lifts a leg up as he crawls on top of you. "Is the seduction working? Because yours is working on me. I’m trying incredibly hard not to eye-fuck you right now," He's made himself comfortable on his side but his eyes are the very juxtapositioning of 'relaxed'. They unapologetically scan your thighs, clad in your netted stockings

"Get over here," he rasps, "My patience is running incredibly thin," and so you do. You lift your torso and he hovers over you as you both meet in the middle. Rodrick murmurs against your lips, the kiss is furious and hurried and you don't know where to put your hands, "Everything about you is so fucking electric," if only he knew, the only electricity, in your mundane life was brought on by him.

With him, your life was a hazy sea of black eyeliner and a never sweet, loud music. He made you feel alive.

Rodrick’s lips push furiously against yours, scolding you for your absence, punishing you for your distance. "Crazy," he says as his lips drift to the side of your mouth, "I've been going fucking crazy without you,"

Your mind races with the sudden electrifying feeling of having him back. Rodrick’s hands slithered to the nape of your neck, as he eases your head onto the mattress.

Rodrick’s hand soon finds your breast, soft under the fabric as he groans against your skin. “Fuck, I might not last long,” He admits, already rolling his hips into yours.

“Me too,” You admit, causing another loud moan to leave his lips.

He silences you with another fervid kiss. You're completely lost in him. In the intense smell of weed and leather. The unmistakable sting of metal on your skin. His full and awfully skilled lips are far too eager to get to your breasts.

"This-" he rasps. You’re not even cognitively aware that he's lowered you onto the blanket, his teeth feel far too fucking good as they scrape along the material covering your breasts, "This shit," he hovers lightly above you, "This shit needs to come off."

"Are you asking for my permission?" You prop yourself up by your forearms, mouth swollen from his kisses as you smirk. "Since when did Rodrick Heffley ever ask permission for anything in his life?"

Your words send a warm string of pleasure straight through his cock and he audibly groans as he sits back on his haunches.

He sings in an awfully cherry voice: "Hands up now! Be a good girl,"

"You're fucking crazy," You whisper as you raise your hands, letting him undress you.

He watches you like a hawk, gauging your every reaction, to make sure you even wanted this- even wanted him at all. The moment your nipples, dark and erect, come into his field of vision, he knows he’s done. "This isn't gonna hurt," he whispers, feeling the need to reassure you. "I promise-"

"Rodrick?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm begging you to fuck me,"

Every single part of your being was screaming for him since the moment you arrived. You had barely been able to keep a straight face throughout the entirety of your mindless conversation.

"You look so fucking hot right now," he says, lowering his lips to your ear, sending a plethora tiny, reassuring kisses, as if trying to distract you from your wrists meeting above your head, and the jangle of the metal joinging them together.

You look up and your heart rattles when you notice him binding your wrists above your head.

"You have no fucking idea how much I've thought about this moment," the usual rasp in his voice is somehow raspier, darker.

"You've thought about this?" You queried as he stripped your bottom bare, “Kinky, Kinky boy,” You say as your legs spread unprecedentedly. He sends an awed look at your legs before staring back at you.

"Fuck yes," he replies, "I've had nothing but my hand to-" he chuckles dryly, "fill the void,"

He tugs on the cuffs and you gasp, completely unprepared for the wave of arousal that washes over you. "These good?" He asks and you nod.

“Perfect," Rodrick lowers his head to your supine body once more, "I think you're fucking perfect,"

He drags a hand over your body, over the curve of your breast and over the softness of your belly until his fingers meet your exposed cunt. Your head is a wild cloud of braids against the blanket but you could hardly care. You couldn't care less about how completely needy you were for him.

"Jesus- Rodrick" his fingers slip through your folds, eager to spread the embarrassing amount of slick already accumulated there.

"I need you to promise me," Rodrick watches his hand disappear in your pants as he begins to set a steady, mind numbing pace.

"What're are you- Holy fuck, just there," your back arches off the blanket, eager for your clit to meet his fingers. But he relents.

"I need you to promise me you'll never disappear again."

There's an agonisingly slow build-up as Rodrick’s callused fingers tease your sensitive clit.

"You gotta say it, Babe, or the declaration is null and void-"

"Yes!" You reply with a quickness, "Okay? I-yes..."

There's a shit-eating grin that splayed over his face. "Now the fun begins,"

You're far too focused on bringing yourself to orgasm, but your entire plan crumbles when he slips his hand out of your pants. You glare up at him, dissatisfaction radiating off of you in waves.

"Don't be like that,” He teases. “I've got little Ole needs too." His quick in discarding his shirt, and as he does so, your anger dissipates for a few heavenly seconds. His tattoo is a glorious patch of ink splashed on an ivory wall. A mark any normal person would undoubtedly regret in their later life and see as the product of a dumb adolescent mistake. But Rodrick never regretted anything he did. He was as firm as the ground beneath you.

"I fucking-" His lips meet the inside of your thigh, "-can't believe this is a thing that's happening,"

"It's happening," You say, unable to curb your enthusiasm. Your own voice is thick with desire.

"I need you so fucking bad." He says, "I need to be inside you so fucking bad,"

Rodrick is quick to lower his jeans. He uncovers his hard cock, moving his hand along its length, as he stares at you in complete awe. "Hey, Babe?" You begrudgingly drag your gaze away from his hand to his face. "Try not to have the time of your life, m'kay,"

You're about to chide him but he slams his cock all the way into you. His movements are sloppy as they are hurried, and your eyes roll back from the intensity at having every single need met.

"Fuck yes, Rodrick!" Your wanton moans bounce into his ears, filling him with brazing satisfaction. Your hands cuffed above your head elicit another wave of pleasure. Youre utterly bared to him.

"You're never leaving me again, alright?" His forearm is beside your head, allowing him to watch you intensely as he pounds his cock further in. "You're never gonna pull that shit again," His angry thrusts punctuate his sentence, pushing every unsavoury sound out of your throat.

"I fucking promise- OH FUCK-" He sends a hand in between your intwined bodies, flicking your clit and having your cunt tighten deliciously around him.

"Are you gonna cum already?"

"Shut the fuck-"

"Don't worry," he buries his head in the nape of your neck. "I'm right behind you,"

Rodrick’s thrust deepens and his pace around your clit accelerates until you're finally pushed over the edge. Your vision sprinkles with flecks of light as blind as the stars above you as you cum. "OH JESUS-SHIT," Rodrick pulls out of your wet cunt. Hurriedly stradling your hips before shooting ropes of cum all over your stomach.

You don't mind.

You feared Rodrick could get away with anything.

"Holy fuck- I-Im so sorry,"

He quickly somersaults up from his overzealous fit of pleasure and peers down at you wide-eyed. "Jesus Christ I- I should get you cleaned up,"

You chuckle, as you watch the boy scramble to find the keys to the cuffs. "Don't worry- I could just rinse off in the later-"

His ears perk up at that. Rodrick looks down at his nail painted in onyx, “L-Later?” He asks shyly. That means youre staying.

“Yes. Later.”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick x reader #rodrick smut #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley fanfiction #rodrick fanfic #rodrick x black reader #diary of a wimpy kid #devon bostick #devon bostick x reader

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heliosunny · 4 months ago

Note

Hiii I absolutely love your writing style!! ❤

I was wondering if it's possible to write Gepard in lucky egg!

LUCKY EGG

Yandere!Gepard x Reader

The egg sat quietly on your desk, encased in a faintly glowing layer of frost. It had been three days since you got it from the Lucky Egg Dispenser, and you were starting to wonder if anything would ever happen.

You leaned closer to inspect it, marveling at the intricate patterns of ice that had spread across its shell. It felt cool to the touch, yet the chill didn’t bite, it was strangely soothing, like a gentle winter breeze.

Suddenly, a soft crack echoed through the room. You froze, eyes widening as the egg quivered slightly. Another crack followed, then another, until thin fractures began to spiderweb across the frosty surface. A cold mist seeped out, curling around your fingers and spreading across the room in a delicate swirl.

The final break came quietly, a soft shattering sound as the egg opened, revealing a glowing, icy core. From within, a figure emerged, tall and commanding. He stepped out slowly, his armor shimmering with a faint frost that seemed to catch the light in every movement.

His blond hair kissed by a faint dusting of ice. Blue eyes, as sharp and cold as a glacier, met yours with an unwavering focus.

For a moment, he simply stood there, his expression unreadable. Then, in a smooth motion, he placed a hand over his heart and bowed slightly. “My name is Gepard Landau” he said, his voice calm yet resolute. “You are the one who brought me into this world, are you not?”

You nodded, still trying to process the figure before you. The icy aura that had accompanied him lingered in the air, but it no longer felt intimidating, it was protective, a shield against the unknown.

Gepard straightened, his gaze softening slightly. “If that is so, then I pledge my strength and my shield to your service. From this day forth, your safety is my responsibility.”

The frost at his feet began to fade, but his presence remained steadfast, as if winter itself had chosen to stand by your side.

The lingering chill in the air made your nose twitch, and before you could stop it—

“Achoo!”

The sneeze echoed through the room.

Before you even registered what was happening, a heavy weight settled over your shoulders. A thick, warm coat, one that definitely wasn’t yours. You blinked, looking up to see Gepard standing over you, his expression slightly furrowed.

“You’re cold” he stated matter-of-factly, adjusting the coat around you to ensure you were fully wrapped up. “You should take better care of yourself.”

You stared at him, bewildered. “…That was just one sneeze.”

“One is enough” he countered, completely serious. “It could be a sign of an oncoming illness.”

You sighed, realizing arguing would get you nowhere. If wrapping up in warmth kept him from worrying, then you’d just go along with it.

Deciding you needed a break, you waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll rest for a bit. You can… do whatever you want in the meantime.”

Gepard hesitated for a moment, as if unsure what to do with the sudden freedom. But eventually, he gave you a small nod. “Understood. Call for me if you need anything.”

While you settled down, you figured it would be a good idea to order food. Summoning a person into existence was already exhausting; cooking on top of that? No thanks.

When the food arrived, Gepard helped you set the table, his movements precise and careful. He sat across from you, surprisingly composed despite the unfamiliar setting.

As you both began to eat, you noticed the way he occasionally paused, glancing at his food before taking slow, deliberate bites.

“You okay?” you asked, watching him.

“…Yes” he replied after a beat. “I’m simply unfamiliar with dining like this. It’s… different.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”

He pondered for a moment before finally saying, “It feels… peaceful.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause. There was no grand declaration, no formal tone, ust quiet sincerity.

You smiled slightly, taking another bite of your meal. “Well, get used to it. We’ll probably be eating together a lot.”

A faint warmth flickered in Gepard’s blue eyes, something almost akin to contentment.

“…I look forward to it.” he said softly, returning to his meal.

After a productive day at the guild and dungeon, you were making your way home when Gepard suddenly slowed his steps. You followed his gaze to a small painting workshop, where people sat by easels, brushing strokes of color onto canvas.

He seemed… intrigued.

“You want to try?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He hesitated for a brief moment before giving a small nod. “I’ve never done something like this before.”

That was reason enough. You led him inside, paying for a session, and soon the two of you were seated with blank canvases before you. The instructor gave a simple guide on basic techniques, but Gepard, ever the disciplined soldier, took it far too seriously, studying the brush like it was a tactical weapon.

Then, he began.

You tried to hold back your reaction, really, you did. But when you snuck a glance at his canvas, it took everything in you not to laugh.

The painting was… an attempt. His strokes were stiff, his proportions questionable. What was supposed to be a landscape ended up looking like a battlefield of colors at war with each other. And that was putting it kindly.

Still, you could see the determination in his expression, the way his brows furrowed in concentration. He wasn’t just doing this randomly, he was genuinely trying.

“It’s… unique” you said, choosing your words carefully.

He turned to you, eyes searching for sincerity. “You think so?”

You nodded, giving him a reassuring smile. “Yeah. It has a lot of character.”

Gepard glanced back at his painting, as if analyzing your words, then gave a small hum of consideration. “…I see.”

You weren’t sure if he actually believed your compliment or if he just decided to trust your judgment, but either way, he seemed satisfied.

And when he carefully packed up the painting to take home, you couldn’t help but smile.

As the evening settled in, you turned on the TV while handling housework, hoping the background noise would keep you motivated. The screen flickered to life, landing on a music program featuring a well-known band. The lead guitarist took center stage, fingers gliding effortlessly over the strings, their movements commanding and passionate.

A shift beside you caught your attention. Gepard had paused in the middle of folding a towel, his blue eyes locked onto the screen with an unusual intensity.

“You like it?” you asked, turning up the volume slightly.

He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, but nodded. “It’s… impressive” he admitted. “They play with such precision, yet it feels free.”

You chuckled. “That’s the beauty of music. It’s structured, but it has emotion behind it.”

Gepard hummed in thought before resuming his task. Despite his usual soldier-like demeanor, he moved with an unexpected ease as he helped you around the house. Whether it was wiping down the table or putting away dishes, he assisted with quiet diligence, as if integrating himself into your routine naturally.

Later that night, after everything was done, you both sat on the couch, a couple of drinks in hand. The air between you was relaxed, the dim lighting casting a warm glow over the room.

“You’re good at a lot of things” you mused, swirling your drink in the glass. “But I wouldn’t have guessed you’d be interested in music.”

Gepard took a slow sip before replying. “It’s not something I’ve had the time to appreciate before.” He glanced at you. “But I think I understand why people enjoy it now.”

A comfortable silence settled, broken only by the occasional clink of glasses. The atmosphere felt… different.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or maybe just the way the day had played out, but there was a sense of familiarity now, a quiet understanding forming between the two of you.

“You’re adjusting well” you said, offering him a small smile.

Gepard studied you for a moment before nodding. “I have you to thank for that.”

His voice was softer than usual, carrying an honesty that made your chest feel oddly warm. The faintest of smiles tugged at his lips as he raised his glass slightly, an unspoken toast between you.

And as you clinked glasses, you couldn’t help but think- maybe having him around wasn’t so bad after all.

The moment you stepped into the dungeon, you felt it, a deep, biting chill that seeped into your bones. The walls were coated in frost, the air crisp and unforgiving. You hadn’t expected the dungeon to adjust itself based on Gepard’s presence, and now, you were paying the price.

Despite your best efforts to push forward, your body betrayed you. A shiver ran down your spine, your fingers numb as you tried to keep up. Gepard noticed immediately.

“You’re not well” he stated, concern flashing in his blue eyes. Without waiting for a response, he stepped in front of you. “Stay back. I’ll handle this.”

You wanted to argue, but another wave of dizziness hit, forcing you to stumble. That was all the confirmation he needed.

Shield in hand, Gepard charged ahead with a precision that left no room for doubt. The monsters that lurked in the frost-covered halls barely had time to react before he struck them down with swift, calculated movements. He moved like a force of nature, every step steady, every blow decisive.

By the time he finished, he didn’t even spare a glance at the loot. His priority was clear.

Without warning, he lifted you into his arms. His grip was firm, protective.

“We’re leaving” he declared.

And with that, he carried you out of the dungeon without hesitation, his warmth shielding you from the cold that had drained your strength.

You were barely aware of your surroundings, drifting in and out of sleep as your fever made your body feel unbearably heavy. The warmth of the blankets did little to soothe the exhaustion weighing down on you. Your mind was hazy, consciousness slipping in waves, but something felt… off.

You forced your heavy eyelids open just enough to see a shadow moving in the dimly lit room. A stranger, someone unfamiliar, was rifling through your belongings, their hands quick and practiced as they reached for your bag.

Your lips parted, but your voice came out weak. "Hey… stop…"

The thief barely paid you any mind, convinced you were too sick to do anything. But they didn’t get far.

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Before you could process what was happening, the sound of something slamming against the wall jolted you fully awake. The thief let out a strangled gasp, their body pinned against the cold surface by an overwhelming force.

Gepard.

His armored hand was clenched around the thief’s throat, effortlessly lifting them off the ground. His expression was cold, merciless. Ice formed beneath his grip, spreading along the thief’s clothes, freezing them in place.

“You’re awfully bold” Gepard murmured, voice dangerously quiet. “To think you could take what’s mine right in front of me.”

The thief gasped, clawing at his arm. "I-I didn't—!"

The air around Gepard crackled with ice, his fingers tightening. "You did." His gaze flickered toward you, scanning your face, checking your condition. Seeing your half-conscious state, something in his expression darkened.

"You woke them up" he said, almost as if it was the worst offense of all.

The thief’s eyes widened in terror. "Please—I won’t—!"

"You won’t" Gepard agreed, his voice final. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the thief crashing onto the frozen floor, ice creeping up their limbs and holding them in place. “Because you’ll never get another chance.”

You tried to sit up, the sight of him like this making your sluggish mind alert. "Gepard…"

Immediately, his attention snapped to you, his expression shifting. The cold in the room lessened ever so slightly as he crossed the space to your side.

“You shouldn’t be moving” he murmured, kneeling beside you. His hand pressed against your forehead, frowning at your fever. “You’re still unwell.”

Your gaze flickered to the thief, still trapped in ice, barely conscious. "What… are you going to do with them?"

Gepard didn’t even spare them a glance. "They don’t matter."

After recovering from your fever, you decided to stretch your legs, stepping out into the cool evening air. Gepard followed, of course, walking beside you in silence. His presence had been constant, hovering, protective. But now that you were feeling better, you figured he’d ease up.

You were wrong.

As you reached the market district, a merchant you used to chat with spotted you. A friendly face in the bustling street, they waved and approached.

“Hey! Long time no see!” they greeted warmly, their smile wide. “I was wondering where you disappeared to. It’s been a while.”

You smiled back. “Yeah, I—”

Before you could finish, a heavy presence settled behind you. Gepard stepped forward, placing himself between you and the merchant, his imposing frame casting a shadow over the conversation.

The merchant blinked, their gaze shifting to him. “Uh… and you are?”

Gepard’s eyes were cold. “Someone they belong with.”

The merchant chuckled awkwardly, clearly picking up on the tension. “I was just catching up. Didn’t mean to intrude.”

They took a step back, sensing the shift in the air. That’s when you noticed, the temperature had dropped. The once-warm evening breeze now carried an unnatural chill, and frost had begun creeping along the stone pavement beneath Gepard’s feet.

The merchant shivered. “Uh… right. I’ll just—”

“Leave” Gepard finished for them, his voice deceptively polite but warning.

The merchant didn’t need to be told twice. They hurried away, casting you a puzzled glance before disappearing into the crowd.

You turned to Gepard, heart pounding. “What was that?”

He tilted his head, his expression frustratingly calm. “They were getting too close.”

“They were just talking to me” you argued.

“They didn’t need to.”

His tone was final, absolute. The frost at his feet slowly melted, but the tension in the air didn’t dissipate.

You hadn’t thought much of it at first. The way the air subtly shifted when he was near. The way the room always seemed to cool when he was in a bad mood and warm when he was content.

But now, after what just happened with the merchant, you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Even now, as you stood there staring at Gepard, the unnatural chill from earlier still clung to your skin. Your breath fogged faintly in the air, not from the weather, but from him.

Realization settled like ice in your veins.

It wasn’t just the surroundings he affected.

It was you.

Your body reacted to his emotions as if it had attuned itself to him. When he was happy, you felt comfortable, at ease. But when he was displeased, when something irritated him, your body responded with a creeping, suffocating cold. Not enough to hurt, not yet, but enough to remind you that his presence was inescapable.

You took a slow step back, needing distance. His eyes flickered, sharp, watching your every movement.

“What’s wrong?” His voice was calm, but there was an undertone—like he already knew what you were thinking.

You swallowed. “Gepard… have you noticed it?”

“Noticed what?”

You hesitated. If you said it outright, what would happen? Would the air turn colder? Would he pull you closer instead of letting you go?

Would he even let you go?

“…Nothing” you murmured, testing him.

His blue eyes studied you carefully. Then, slowly, he smiled. And just like that, the air around you warmed again, wrapping around you like a protective embrace.

His hand reached for yours, fingers brushing against your chilled skin. “Good” he said, as if that was the only answer he would’ve accepted.

His fingers curled around your wrist like a silent reminder.

You belonged by his side.

And if you ever tried to pull away, you weren’t sure you’d like the consequences.

#yandere x reader #yandere #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr x reader #gepard landau #hsr gepard #gepard x reader #honkai star rail gepard #heliosluckyegg

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thorsenmark · 10 days ago

Video

flickr

The Bow River Flows on By the Mountains (Banff National Park) by Mark Stevens Via Flickr: While at an overlook to the Bow River along the Bow Valley Parkway with a view looking to the west and a backdrop of ridges and peaks from the Bow Range. This is a Banff National Park.

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aimeekb · 1 year ago

Text

Bow Lake overlook, Banff National Park🇨🇦

#bow lake #banff national park #Alberta #Canada #aimeekb #canadian rockies #lesbians who hike #glacier lake #hiking #nature #forest #adventure #explore #mountains #landscape #naturecore #travel

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yandere-wishes · 10 months ago

Text

༄｡° Ice on Ice ༄｡°

𐙚 Yandere!Capitano Drabble

𐙚 Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, gore, manipulation

𝄞 Song: Kill V. Maim by Grimes

⋆˙❅ He's molded you into his perfect darling. His perfect weapon ❅⋆˙

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚‧͙̩̩͙

It's always snowing in Snezhnaya .

Even in the dead of summer.

Capintano glides across the castle like a shadow. Shying away from the moonlight gleaming through the towering windows.

Ice slithers up his arm, forging into the hilt of his glacial sword.

He can smell your bloodlust in the air, good, you've already commenced the integration.

The lower levels of Zapolyarny castle speak only of terrors.

It's where the faithless come to die.

Traitors to Her Majesty.

It was where he'd kept you upon your initiation, where he burned you down and fabricated you anew.

His pretty little deadly thing.

So eager to please.

So loyal

The salty tang of blood permeating the air has his heart racing, furious war drum hammering in his chest. He follows the embers of your rage, standing by the threshold watching as you dig your knife deeper into the traitor's shoulder. Capitano basks in your raw fury. Your anger sweet on his tongue.

"Darling"

His voice is low, a whisper among the screams. Snowflake on ice and yet you still jump to attention. Run up to him with a sweet smile that doesn't quite suit the crimson specks adorning your cheeks.

His eyes glide across your taut body, spine straight, fingers up in salute. Your pyro delusion glowing gently at your waist. Ready to engrave his commands upon your bones.

"Master, the prisoner has confessed to carrying out treason against the crown. But he's yet to disclose the whereabouts of his fellow rebels."

"He will."

Capitano hands you his coat, relishing the delicate way you clench the heavy thing. Cradling it in your chest as if it's more precious than all the constatations above Tyvat. He pulls his helmet up, ever so slightly, enough to press his frigid lips against your cheek and lick the specks of blood. You freeze, fingers grasping the fuzzy pelt.

"Come watch, my darling"

He stalks towards the bloodied man, twirling his sword, letting the tiny ice splinters impale the traitor at random. The man cries, voice hoarse and weak. The slim glaciers replacing blood with frost.

You trail after him, lovesick and devotion in every step, his coat hanging from your shoulders.

Heavy burden upon frail shoulders, such a perplexing thing you are...

Capitano can't help but smile in satisfaction. He's molded you into perfection, sculpted you from the purest ice. He studies your work rigorously. Pain painted across the vile canvas. The traitor's right eye is missing, the socket scorched, torrid flesh pealing from his arms. His shirt ripped, rude stab wounds still fresh, still dripping ruby.

He's trained you well.

Trained you to make nation topple and archons bow. To bend the stars and flames with your fealty.

Maim and kill.

Because this world is too cruel for righteous little boys and naive little girls.

Kill and maim or else it will be done to you.

You pull the informer's hair back as Capitano lands a metal-clad punch to his face, blood sprays unceremoniously, spoiling Capintao's black-silver armor, followed by the familiar clatter of a tooth hitting the thinly iced floor.

Capintano steps back, braces himself for a moment then thrusts his sword into the rebel's thigh. Marring the sturdy hoar a rotten red. Frost blisters skin ripping the soft tissue underneath.

Ice chips bone

Meat falls to the cold ground.

The man screams, crying out locations and names in jetted tongue. His eyes slowly grow darker.

The blood continues to pool.

You clap your hands cheerfully. Letting the man's head fall forward "Well done master."

For a fleeting second, as you skip towards your master, you catch the traitor's picture in the odd light. You gulp, the creature staring back wears your face, your body, your skin. You see yourself in the dead stranger. Stubborn face and blank eyes. You blink and it's gone, a trick of the dark, one you're too eager to forget. Those days have passed, left to decay in snow-covered tombs. You are someone else now, more importantly, you are Capitano's lover, his most devoted soldier. No longer a gullible thing chasing after empty ideals.

Capitano towers over you. A stone pillar etched of ivory paragons. His iron fingers wrap around your smaller wrist as he pulls you forward. Your fingers lace through his ebony main, while your other hand pulls up the helmet, desperate for his kiss. Biting his lips and letting the blood from his armor stain your uniform. He pushes pain and loyalty down your throat with metallic spiced kisses. Replaces the pearls of your spine with molten lava and brimstone. His touches are frostbite running rampant across your body. Peeling away skin and inscribing mortality and ethereal strength into the soft tissue of your organs. Leaving your lungs corked with icy doctrines.

He has sculpted his style of blade work into your blood. Your veins pump explosions through your body.

Capitano's lips trace the expansion of your neck, savoring your essence between harsh kisses and harsher lovebites. You feel like a sword in his hands, meticulously forged with the finest steel. He has killed many apostates with you. Used you to serve the Tsaritsa without fail

Weapon of war, built from the corpse of a little lost girl.

The frenzy in your eyes, the cosmic thumb of your heart, the way your fingers claw, and the silver of skin of his neck.

Deadly deadly deadly.

He plays the role of the virtuous knight.

Only he's come to learn that many mistake virtue for pacifism.

No.

Love and loyalty are delicate threads entwined with massacre and pain.

You must kill to protect loyalty.

You must kill to protect love.

And how better to express both than in love letters penned with fresh scarlet and decay?

"Get rid of the body, we have much work to do." He raises his sword up to the thin ray of moonlight. For a second your reflection flashes across his icy sword, broken and damaged and perfect in every way. He gives you a final kiss on your templet. Before retrieving his coat and turning away. Disappearing in the dark.

You sigh, breath observable in the chill. Your fingers ignite, warmer and warmer. Preparing for another cremation.

Capitano smiles, ridged, grotesque. As a putrid sickly saccharine scent wafts through the castle's dungeon.

He's raised the perfect lover.

Devoted to a fault and stronger than any weapon.

He's looking forward to unleashing you upon the rebel's nest.

Looking forward to the dance of savage carnage.

It's summertime in Snezhnaya

Although you couldn't tell from the snowy blizzard outside...

When is Varka coming out? I want to be caged between the two of them so badly 😭😭

Also, guys, what if Capintano is Rustam or Arundolyn?? 🤔 I feel like I'm onto something

°🪼° @choueries @animelover6000 @viannasthings

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naffeclipse · 6 months ago

Text

A Gesture Returned Pt. 2

Reader x Orca!Eclipse

Commission Info

I return with another lovely request by the sweet @rinzydings who asked for a little continuation! Y/N has accepted life as a siren and a mate to Orca!Eclipse, they miss just a thing or two from their human days. Eclipse helps to make things a little better. I hope you enjoy! <3

———

The Arctic sea is icy blue and calm. The depths once terrified you, how the waves seemed to swallow whole whatever touched its surface, but you are no longer the small and ill-adapted human you once were.

A strong and sleek tail propels you through the glacier dotted waters. Ice floes gather upon the surface and create a patchy field of white and dark. To the far side of you, a towering land mass of ice and frozen rock juts into the sky and breaks up the pale mist. The cold does not sink into your bones and cause you to shiver. Though your upper half is bare, you have no fear of freezing. Magic and the natural blubber of your tail combined to keep you safe.

This is your home. When you first arrived for the simple objective of taking photos, you never dreamed of who you would meet in the frigid temperatures nor how much it would change your very existence.

You love being a siren. Very rarely have you longed or desired for something only your human hands could get a hold of, but while you draw your fingertips just under the surface to watch ripples bloom outwards at your touch, you remember a few things. Your camera, for one. There are so many incredible sights to see that Eclipse has guided you too, and he waited with baited breath for your excitement. The world is beautiful. You had set out to capture those images and share them with others, and succeeded. Now, you enjoy them for yourself.

Another, as silly and strange as it sounds, is dancing. You were never particularly skilled. It was simply a way to express how much you enjoyed a song or felt like getting excitable energy out when you were alone.

You slow for a moment to gaze at yourself in the dark teal depths. Holding out your arms, you study the shape of your limbs, then slip your gaze down to your tail. Black and white flukes wave slightly to allow you to tread water. The breath in your lungs is still strong, fresh.

Eclipse can dance. You’ve sat in reverent awe of his ability to cut powerfully through the deep darkness of the sea and effortlessly bound over the surface in graceful bows. Maybe he wouldn’t use that word, but you find it beautiful all the same.

Maybe you can still dance, even now.

You slowly hold out your arm and tilt your hand, drawing it upwards and softly flicking your tail. Your body turns in a makeshift pirouette. The urge to arch a leg and separate your lower half from itself comes and goes, and your tail gives an awkward jerk. You stop, drifting slightly in your lost momentum. It is very different.

Again, you begin turning. You focus on your arms, on the push of your flukes and the sweeping motion of your tail. The water sloshes around you, bubbles conjured at your flips and leaps, though you remain just below the surface.

A frown touches your mouth as you find yourself struggling to conquer what you think is a proper dance. You’re not Eclipse. You don’t have his great power and slipstream grace in the ocean. You were once a human, now a siren, who is learning how to dance again.

Again, you try to twist yourself as if you were spinning upon air and find a way to step with the tips of your flukes, but the attempt slips down your body in awkward jolts and unnatural movements. Your tail strains against itself. Your arms hold heavy in the water, and you huff a gurgle of air that darts upwards.

In your distraction, you don’t catch the familiar approach of a black and white, red tipped siren. You stare down your tail until large hands, adorn in black-bone claws, take hold of your waist, and lift you to the surface where you take a gentle, deep gasp.

“Birdie,” Eclipse rumbles. He floats gently along the surface, leaning back slightly as he pulls you against his chest. Your back lights flat against him, your dorsal fin brushing against his side. “What were you doing just a moment ago? It looked strange.”

You laugh quietly. Sensing his genuine curiosity, you gently turn in his embrace to lay your hands against his chest. His powerful tail flicks and allows you two to drift seamlessly along the surface. He keeps your head above water.

“Dancing,” you confess, though a frustrated flush fills your face. “I was trying to, at least.”

His eyes gleam brightly. He draws a hand along your hip, caressing your skin along the seam of where it melts down into black and white flesh.

“What reason did you feel to start dancing?” The intrigue in his voice makes you blush slightly. “Perhaps I can be of some assistance.”

A tease touches the corner of your mouth.

“So eager, aren’t you?”

“I am,” he dips his chin firmly. The beautiful flare of the frills around his head seem to burn brighter red for a moment. “How do you dance?”

“Oh, well, I…” You pause and look down Eclipse before lifting your chin. The effort you expel to put together the image of two humans dancing is difficult, but you try nonetheless. If only you had a picture of such a thing. Frustration begins to claw along your throat when you near a faltering end of your vision.

Eclipse stops you gently with a claw to your jawline.

“Show me.”

A stillness falls over you. His certainty, however, gives the gentle push you require.

You slide slightly off of him. Before his expression can morph into displeasure at your distance, you gently take his hands in yours. The seashells decorating his wrist click softly together as you bring your chests closer.

“Place your hand here,” you instruct gently as you set his palm upon your hip. “Then hold my hand here.”

You extend his arm. Though his size is greater than yours, he adjusts to match you.

“Tell me more,” Eclipse rumbles, low in his chest. The vibrations touch you, and you smile.

“If we were human, we would step together, sort of in a square,” your thoughts grow heavy as you try to translate the motion. You tug him gently, gliding through the sea in an uncertain and strange manner. You are not two humans dancing.

You are sirens.

A low hum lifts from Eclipse. Before you can grow anxious that you’ve tried to impose a very human element upon two aquatic creatures, Eclipse gently flaps his flukes. He draws you backwards with his movement. You gasp softly. He pulls you into another motion, and this time, you flick your tail to keep up with his motion.

You lift your eyes. His gaze is already upon you, warm in the Arctic. Like twin suns, his eyes of yellow and red hold you softly as he replicates something you haven’t felt in a long time.

“I do miss your legs,” he says in a low, nostalgic tone while taking you into another motion with the push of his tail, “but I adore how you are now.”

A sweet warmth comes upon you. Clutching his hand, and resting your other on his shoulder, you lean in closer in this makeshift, watery waltz.

“I do, too,” you murmur.

Resting your head on his shoulder, Eclipse leads you effortlessly along the surface. The water splashes against your shoulders. The ocean tugs on your flukes but Eclipse is steady as the sky while dancing you through his world.

It feels right. He understands how the motions should go, even without legs, and you are falling into the hypnotic rhythm with a dreamy satisfaction.

“We must dance like this more often,” he rasps close to your ear. He turns his head gently to lay a kiss to your cheek. “Now, let me show you how I dance.”

Perking up at his affection, you smile while squeezing his hand.

Eclipse grins. He stops with a slight jolt, and his touch falls away from your hip as he unweaves his fingers from between your own. He slips away. Much to your cold confusion, you clutch your empty palms and watch him gather a deep breath. The orca siren grins his pearly white teeth before diving below.

Your tail swishes back and forth. Peering through the blurry veil of the surface, you watch his shape descend down, down, down. Slowly, you lower yourself into the ocean. Blinking your eyes, you find him in the dazzling depths. Eclipse begins to wind back and forth. His powerful tail works through the thick brine and his dorsal fin arches high and proud. He twists back to the surface. His toothy smile is still in place, his eyes set ablaze with determination.

Then he begins to swim. Speeding like a torpedo through the deep blue, he rises, higher and higher. You find your breath catching in your throat as you follow him up towards the very sky. You jerk through the surface just as he breaks through it. For a moment, he seems to fly. The orca siren sails, his body a beautiful curve of power and elegance, before he crashes back down with a magnificent splash.

Water cascades over you. Salty sea spray pushes your short hair onto your face. Eclipse calls out your name. A bubbling, joyous sound rises from your lips as you peel away the sobbing wet strands from your forehead.

A gentle wave reaches you before you lift your head once more, and find Eclipse reaching for you. His hands lightly grasp your arms before tugging you closer.

“That is how I dance,” he rumbles softly, lowering his head to press his forehead to yours.

“I love it,” you utter, breathless. “You’re so incredible and handsome. I wish I could be as balletic.”

He chortles a rough but nonetheless sweet sound. He caresses your arms, sliding his touch down to your hands.

“You will,” he declares. “Come dance with me.”

You blink. He sets his expression, unwavering set upon this moment, and you beam.

“Okay,” you breathe, eager.

He squeezes your hands one, then releasing one, he dives underneath, taking you with him. He builds his speed with strong waves of his tail. You push yourself. Using the strength of your sleek and strong body, you shoot into the depths.

The water darkens. Eclipse clutches your hand tight. For one brief moment, you two are one, weaving and twirling together, held within a frosted sea. But he turns you back to the surface. From a great distance, the surface glitters with refractions of the sun, and you feel no fear for how close the darkness below you lies. You are caught in a salty twilight.

Eclipse squeezes your hand. You look at him and your instinct answers. In one movement together, you charge for the light. Up, and up, and up, you struggle and fight until the surface twinkles just within reach. Hand in hand, you and Eclipse launch into the air.

You fly with your mate. Weightless, endless, you float between ocean and sky. Water scatters, and you dance.

He pulls you against him just as you both crash back to the surface. His back takes the brunt of the impact and water rushes back to welcome you two, but you are laughing. You hide your face against Eclipse’s neck. He booms with joy, a thunderous cackle that leaves you with more mirth.

He holds you tight and keeps you along the surface.

“You are so beautiful, my mate,” he declares.

You touch his cheek.

“You are stunning,” you stroke the sleek and smooth markings of his visage. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

“We can dance whenever you wish, birdie.” Eclipse takes your hand, and sets his other on your hip. “Merely say the word. I am yours.”

You beam at him. Whatever lingering nostalgia there is clinging to your rib cage surely melts away as Eclipse pulls you into another waltz in the Arctic Ocean.

#naff's writing commissions #apex polarity #orca!eclipse #ever danced with an orca siren?#would you like to?#naff writing

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criticallyinneedofadar · 7 months ago

Note

Hey! I hope you're doing well!

I was wondering if you could do a little something with the reader being Gil Galad sister and falling for Celebrimbor everytime they meet (Gil galad teasing his sister about it👀).

Fluff or angst, I let you choose 🫣❤️‍🔥

This was so fun to write!! It might be a bit ooc from Gil Galad but I love the idea of him being an absolute menace to those he's close to.

The Princess of Lindon

The first time you met Celebrimbor, you couldn’t understand why your brother held him in such high regard. Standing in the gilded halls of Lindon, he seemed a touch too serious, his golden hair catching the sunlight in sharp lines that matched the geometric precision of his voice. His words, though, carried weight: precise, deliberate, but never unkind.

“You must be Ereinion’s sister,” he said, bowing his head slightly, though his eyes—bright as polished mithril—never left yours. “He speaks of you often.”

“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, flicking a glance at your brother, who stood at Celebrimbor’s side, his mouth twitching in a barely restrained grin. “I hope only good things.”

Gil-galad didn’t bother hiding his smirk. “I told him you’re stubborn as a dwarf and twice as likely to quarrel.”

“Charming,” you shot back, your tone sweet as honeyed wine, though your gaze lingered a moment too long on Celebrimbor’s face. He was watching you, amused.

In the days that followed, you found yourself seeking his company more than you intended, drawn to his quiet passion for his craft. Each visit to his workshop was another step into a world of firelight and molten beauty. You marveled at the works he created, from delicately wrought circlets to great armaments destined for Elven lords.

“What do you think?” he asked one evening, holding up an unfinished pendant. Its design was intricate, almost fragile—a series of interwoven vines encircling a starburst.

“It’s beautiful,” you murmured, your voice softer than you intended. When his fingers brushed yours as he handed it to you, the heat from the forge wasn’t the only thing warming your cheeks.

+++++++++++

The afternoon sun poured through Lindon’s archways as you descended the steps leading to Celebrimbor’s forge. You had intended to slip away unnoticed, but your brother, as always, had other plans. Ereinion appeared out of nowhere, his long strides carrying him into your path with a smirk that could melt glaciers.

“Off to the forges again, are you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. The crown of Lindon glittered faintly in the light, but his expression was anything but regal. Mischief radiated from him like heat from a forge.

You sighed, stepping around him. “Yes, brother, I am. Kindly move.”

“What gift have you for him this time? A poem? Another rare flower?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Or are you simply going to gaze at him longingly until he notices?”

Your pace quickened, but he matched you step for step. “Perhaps you should write him a letter, sister. Something heartfelt. I can help! How about—‘Oh, Celebrimbor, your hands of steel and heart of fire have utterly captured me—’”

You stopped abruptly, spinning to face him with a glare sharp enough to rival any blade in Celebrimbor’s workshop. “Do you ever stop talking?”

He grinned unabashedly. “Not when I’m having this much fun.”

“I’ll have you know,” you began, jabbing a finger at his chest, “that your meddling will get you nowhere. Celebrimbor and I are merely—”

“Friends? Colleagues? Acquaintances?” He rolled his eyes theatrically. “Sister, even the trees know how you feel. You could outshine the Two Trees with the way you look at him.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but no words came. The accusation struck closer to home than you cared to admit.

Taking your silence as victory, Ereinion leaned down, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Listen, all I’m saying is, if you’re going to keep this up, I expect an invitation to the wedding. I’ll even officiate, if you like.”

You shoved him—gently, though it didn’t stop him from stumbling back a step, laughing as though he’d won some great battle.

“Go bother someone else,” you snapped, marching off toward the forge.

“Don’t keep him waiting!” he called after you, his voice still laced with amusement.

++++++++++

Years passed, and your visits became a quiet ritual. Sometimes you brought small gifts—a poem you’d written, a rare flower you’d found during a walk through Lindon’s forests. Other times, you simply sat in the corner of his workshop, content to watch him work, the rhythmic hammering of metal a soothing cadence.

Gil-galad noticed, of course. He noticed everything.

“Planning on making him a crown, sister?” he teased one afternoon, catching you on your way to Celebrimbor’s forge.

You glared at him. “Planning on minding your own business?”

He feigned a look of shock. “Oh, but it is my business! The sister of the High King consorting with Eregion’s lord? What will people think?”

“They’ll think you’re insufferable.”

“I am insufferable.” He grinned, leaning in. “But at least I’m not pining.”

Your glare could have felled an Orc, but Ereinion only laughed, throwing an arm around your shoulders. “Go on, then. Don’t keep him waiting.”

++++++++++

It wasn’t just your brother who noticed. Galadriel, with her piercing gaze and sharp tongue, was impossible to fool. She cornered you one evening after a feast, her eyes gleaming with something dangerously close to amusement.

“Celebrimbor?” she asked bluntly, swirling her wine.

“What about him?” you replied, feigning ignorance.

Her lips curved in a knowing smile. “You watch him as though he’s a riddle you’re trying to solve.”

“And you watch everyone as though you know the answer,” you shot back, though your face betrayed you, the faintest flush creeping up your neck.

She laughed—a rare, musical sound. “He’s a good man. Just be careful. His heart is tied to his craft as much as it could ever be tied to you.”

++++++++++

The moments you shared with Celebrimbor were often quiet, but each one built upon the last, weaving a bond as delicate and strong as mithril. He never spoke openly of his feelings, but his actions spoke for him. He listened when you spoke of your dreams and fears, crafting small trinkets to match your words—a silver leaf when you told him of your favorite tree, a delicate sunburst when you mentioned longing for the warmth of Valinor’s light.

One night, as you stood beneath the stars, he handed you a simple ring, its design understated but flawless.

“For you,” he said, his voice almost hesitant. “A reminder that even the smallest things can endure.”

You slipped it onto your finger, the cool metal warming almost instantly. “It’s beautiful,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you.”

He hesitated, then added, “Not everything I make is for kings.”

++++++++++

By the time Elrond began visiting Lindon more frequently, the dynamic between you and Celebrimbor had become a favorite subject of teasing.

“Have you told him yet?” Elrond asked, his expression far too innocent for someone meddling in your affairs.

“Told who what?” you replied, pretending to be oblivious.

He only smiled. “You’ll know when you’re ready.”

++++++++++

Ereinion wasn’t often in Celebrimbor’s forge. The High King had little need to concern himself with the intricacies of smithing, but today he’d come with a purpose—a commission he needed to discuss. Yet as he pushed open the heavy doors, he paused, one hand still on the iron handle.

The scene before him was not what he’d expected.

His sister and Celebrimbor stood close together, the soft glow of the forge casting golden light over their faces. Celebrimbor’s hands cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek, while she held onto his tunic as if afraid he might vanish. They were locked in a kiss—tentative at first but growing deeper, the unspoken feelings between them finally laid bare.

A sly grin grew on his lips.

“Am I interrupting?” he called, loud enough to startle them apart.

His sister turned first, her face a picture of mortified surprise. Celebrimbor, ever composed, cleared his throat and took a step back, though the slight flush on his cheeks betrayed him.

“Ereinion!” she exclaimed, her tone sharp enough to cut. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you,” he replied, striding further into the room. “But I suppose I don’t need to.”

She glared at him, arms crossing defensively. Celebrimbor, meanwhile, was very pointedly looking anywhere but at the High King.

“It’s about time, really,” Gil-galad continued, his grin widening. “I was beginning to think I’d have to forge an alliance contract just to get the two of you to admit it.”

“Brother, dearest,” she said, her voice low and dangerous, “go away.”

He ignored her, addressing Celebrimbor instead. “Welcome to the family, old friend. About time you made it official.”

Celebrimbor opened his mouth as if to respond, but your glare cut him off. “Don’t encourage him,” you hissed.

“Encourage me? I’m practically overjoyed!” Ereinion raised his hands in mock surrender. “But fine, I’ll leave you to your…moment. Just remember—dinner tonight. And don’t be late.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode out, laughing under his breath. Behind him, he heard his sister mutter something about his insufferable nature, but it only made him smile more.

He had waited years to see her happy, and now she was. That, to him, was worth every ounce of teasing.

#the rings of power #fanfiction #asks #celebrimbor #celebrimbor x reader #trop fanfiction #rings of power fanfiction

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