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witchywcmans · 10 months ago

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FORBIDDEN FRUIT. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ laios can't seem to get enough after he first tastes you. but the lines in your friendship are beginning to blur. it's only when your party happens upon your ex-lover in the dungeon that laios realizes what he should've communicated all along. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ cunnilingus, praise, size kink, jealousy, classic missionary, unprotected sex, creampie, mutual pining/confession, laios and reader are not good with communication (but they work it out v well), laios is self concious but reader is so kind to him !!, monster facts as dirty talk. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 4.8k

song inspiration ━━ awkward, sza / cherry, lana del rey / hunger, florence + the machine

author's note ━━ TECHNICALLY, this could be a part 2 to please, eat, so I'm just going to link as a part 2. you don't have to read please, eat before this, but if you like laios then obvi you should read it anyway!! I'm SO SORRY it took me so long to post another laios x reader 😭 I was trying to finish the manga before I wrote something else dungeon meshi-related, but life gets the way. oh well. also, this might be controversial, but in this fic I’m refuting the “laios is a virgin” allegations. SUE ME. I simply don’t believe he’s been adventuring so long and hasn’t been with anyone, that is crazzzy to me !! but that's just me 🤗 we all have our fave headcanons! my goal when I finish the manga is to write something for laios at the end of the story hehe. I hope you guys enjoy part 2! this one-shot is dedicated to @satoogojos 🫶

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

Catching feelings for your friend was truly a fickle thing. But you guessed it was bound to happen with what you and Laios were doing behind everyone’s back. Each night, after your party tucked themselves in their bedrolls, Laios would so delicately lace your arm through his and you two would find a private area … before he completely buried his face between your thighs.

He was fixated on the way you tasted, the way he could get you to cum so easily on his tongue. You were the only dessert he wanted after every dinner. Some nights, he would have you writhing from overstimulation, but he just wanted more of you – so much more.

It was a little confusing, though, how he didn’t ask for anything in return. Laios seemed to grind against the cold, dungeon floor as his tongue lapped at your essence, sometimes cumming in his pants and moaning between your legs. Or he would politely excuse himself after he was done, taking care of himself as you cleaned yourself up. You didn’t quite understand it, and maybe neither did he. You both were just too awkward to broach the subject.

The incident with the sea serpent had changed your friendship forever. Not only did Laios save you from becoming one, but the intimacy you both now shared seemed to open you up more. You found yourself divulging more secrets to him, leaning on him when you needed someone, even being more impartial to Senshi’s monster meals. And you liked the way he smiled, how he looked at you. You liked how fearless he was. You liked how protective he was over the party, especially you. You … really liked him. Far more than a crush. In fact, you wished you could go back in time and just have a crush. But your feelings for him became deeper as you crept lower and lower into the dungeon together. Your goal was still to come out of this dungeon alive, but now … you hoped that you would make it out alive together.

What a foolish girl you had become.

You tried to remain focused on the path ahead of you, but you were clearly lost in thought today. The party had reached floor 6, which meant you were closer and closer to the deepest part of the dungeon and hopefully rescuing Laios’ sister, Falin. The last thing you expected to see on floor 6 were other adventurers, let alone your ex.

You were hesitant to call him an ex, since you two had never really been anything but a warm body in each other’s beds while living on the surface. But when your bodies collided and your eyes met his, you realized why you had taken a liking to him in the first place. He had been a butcher’s son, handy with an axe, and you had liked his big, strong hands. You almost fell right into him from the slippery dungeon floor, but those strong hands seemed to catch you like you were made of air. “It’s you,” he chuckled, setting you up straight and tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Look at you … feels like it was just yesterday when we were on the surface, huh?”

Marcille looked like she didn’t want anything to do with your ex and his party, but Senshi was very kind to offer them food, if they needed it. Chilchuck seemed neutral, and Laios … you still couldn’t read Laios as easily as the rest of the party. He watched your ex like a hawk, standing behind you as if to protect you. Your ex’s hands were big, sure, but Laios was tall, his shoulders wide and intimidating even without the armor. Laios narrowed his eyes slightly whenever he saw your ex’s gaze roam over you, like he was undressing you with his eyes. And you weren’t sure if you caught it – it only lasted a second – but did Laios clench his hands into fists?

There wasn’t enough time in the world to dwell on it. Especially when you had ghosts seemingly pulling you into another area of the dungeon and waking up on a dirt path, a beautiful golden castle mounted ahead of you. Your party was initially confused, walking into the village and seeing monsters living harmoniously with humans. After becoming acquainted with the village, you and your friends were offered a warm, delicious meal with Yaad, the lord of the Golden Country. After Yaad explained the history of this village, you all were each given rooms to rest in for the night. The beds were small and cold, but far better than a bedroll.

You were used to Laios initiating with you every night, but by the time everyone went to sleep, he still didn’t call upon you. So you stood from your bed, adjusting the nightgown given to you, and walked across the hall to where Laios’ room was. You knocked on his door, and you heard the slip of a sword into a sheath behind the thin wood. He had been inspecting Kensuke for some reason, probably mulling over Yaad’s words. When he opened the door, he was dressed in loose pants and a linen shirt, droplets running down his neck. He must’ve just bathed. You couldn’t stop yourself from digging your nails into your palm.

“Can I come in?” You asked in a hushed voice, and he moved out of the way for you to step inside.

His room looked exactly like yours, but the sheets were ruffled from lack of sleep. Laios walked around you and sat on the edge of the bed, leaving you more confused than ever. You played with your hands as you stared at him, contemplating. “Is something wrong, Laios?” You inquired, stepping closer to him. “You’ve been acting weird even before we got here.”

His brow furrowed for a moment. “How do you figure?”

“Well, you …” Your tongue clicked. “You didn’t come to find me after everyone went to bed.”

He seemed to concede, shoulders dipping at your answer. Shifting on the mattress, he propped himself up against his pillows and moved Kensuke to lean against the wall. His silence was even more perplexing. This had to be the longest time Laios went without talking. He was a blabbermouth.

“I don’t understand,” you continued, walking over and sitting on the end of his bed. “Are you … are you angry with me?”

“No, no,” Laios was quick to reply, “I’m not angry with you. I’m just …”

You raised a brow, eager to hear his answer.

“That man you recognized. On floor 6,” he finally said, his fists clenching again at the memory. “I didn’t … I didn’t like the way he looked at you. And his tone. It was disrespectful to you. Unless I’m reading this all wrong.”

You were taken aback by his honesty. So he had been bothered by your ex. “Oh,” you replied, “well … me and him, we do have history, Laios. But it’s in the past.”

“I could tell.” He was picking at his nails now, any excuse not to meet your eyes. “Everyone has a life before the dungeon. It’s not about the past. I just … I didn’t like him. Or how he looked at you like … like he still wanted you. Or something.”

“Or something,” you repeated, nodding your head. A slow smile crept onto your lips at the realization. “Laios, are you jealous?”

His head jolted up, his eyes glued to his hands, searching for something unknown. Realization washed over his face, as if he hadn’t even considered this possibility. “Oh, gods,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “This whole day I’ve been trying to reconcile with what I’m feeling and I knew I wasn’t mad at you – maybe just mad at the circumstances – and none of it made sense, but now …” He finally met your eyes, a chuckle slipping past his lips. “I was just jealous. How did I not realize?”

“Maybe because we didn’t talk about it,” you offered in a low voice, reaching out and lacing your fingers with his. A jolt of electricity ran through your fingertips and all the way up your arm. You wished you could hide your reaction, but it was clear as day, making Laios shift in his spot. “Laios, we should talk –”

“You’re not leaving the party, are you?” His grip on your fingers went tight, and he didn’t even realize it.

“No,” you laughed, scooting closer and running your free hand over his face. His cheeks flushed instantly when you touched him. “I think … we should talk about what’s happening between us.”

Laios’ gaze went narrow as he processed your words. “Oh,” he said blankly, and then his eyes went wide. “Oh.”

“I just … because we’ve been doing this every night … it’s hard not to feel …” You sighed, unable to get the words right. But he seemed to understand, quick-witted as ever, squeezing your hand in encouragement. And then he smiled at you, all dopey and kind, and your heart began to pound. “I can’t help but think that the lines are being blurred between us. My feelings for you are … much deeper than what they were initially. And if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. I needed you to know. I’m sorry if this hurts … whatever our relationship is.”

He was still smiling, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling you even closer. “Well, I think –”

“And now I can’t help but wonder if maybe – just maybe – you feel the same way,” you started rambling, terrified to know how he was going to reply. “Because why would you feel jealous if you didn’t … I shouldn’t make assumptions. But I still wondered. And I can’t stop talking. Again, I don’t want this to ruin anything and I’m sorry if it does. My ex doesn’t mean anything to me anymore and he won’t ever again –”

Out of nowhere, Laios used his upper body strength to flip you onto your back, pinning you to the bed. Now your cheeks were flushed, completely caught off guard by the action. He sat in between your legs, his fingers just brushing over your waist, as he said, “I do. Feel the same. I feel like I’m the one who could’ve ruined this because I didn’t realize it sooner.”

You gave him a sad smile, reaching up to cup his chin. “You couldn’t ruin anything.”

He leaned into your palm when your hand moved to his cheek, humming under his breath. He then leaned down, his body just barely pressing against yours, as if he craved your body heat. Like a moth to a flame.

“Can we not talk about your ex ever again?” He muttered, his hands running up and down your sides. “Because when I saw him today, all I could think about was …” He stopped himself abruptly.

“What?” Your curiosity peaked.

“I’m going to sound like a jealous brute,” he sighed dramatically, nose brushing against yours as his hands moved higher, thumbs grazing over the underside of your breasts. The material of your nightgown was so thin that your peaked nipples were already visible. “I just … couldn’t stop thinking about all the times I’ve tasted you that he hasn’t. I wondered if he knew exactly how you liked it, which places made those funny sounds come out of your mouth. And then, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and all I wanted this whole day was to get you alone.”

You shuddered when his thumb brushed over one of your taut nipples, making your heel run down the back of his leg. His words alone made tingles run down your spine, but the second his hands were on you, you were properly soaked. The both of you lay there for a moment: him on top of you, nuzzling your nose, rolling his fingers over your nipples through your nightgown, eliciting breath hitches from your lips.

It was so slow, so patient, so good, but had you wanting more. And you couldn’t stop the words coming out when you blurted, “I want to have sex.”

He paused, opening his eyes for a moment, making sure he heard you properly.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you said quickly, feeling awkward. But why were you so shy all of a sudden? It’s not like he didn’t have his tongue deep inside your pussy every night. Maybe it was because there was a question still lying underneath the surface. “Why ... why don’t you want me to help you finish after you eat me out? Sometimes you just … walk away to take care of yourself.”

Laios’ face went bright red, and then he buried his face in your neck. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Your hand pushed back his cropped, blonde hair, trying to soothe his racing heart. “Why are you embarrassed?”

“Because it’s … it’s big,” he sighed and lifted his head. “There. I said it. It’s just big. And the last person who saw it made me feel super self-conscious about it.”

You couldn’t help but snort. “You’re embarrassed because you have a big dick?”

His pretty golden eyes were serious, but it looked like he wanted to laugh with you. “Please, don’t make it sound trivial.”

“It’s not trivial, it’s just …” You went to cup both his cheeks. The way he looked at you was unlike anything you ever experienced. You wondered why it took you so long to realize he felt the same. “I would never make you feel self-conscious about anything. I like everything about you, Laios.”

Your words had him melting, leaning back down into you and kissing you slowly. It was only when his tongue slipped into your mouth that his hand snaked down between your legs, just cupping your soaked entrance, the one thing he loved to eat more cheesecake. Realizing that you weren’t wearing any underwear had him reeling. “Gods …” He moaned into the kiss, his fingers simply running down your soaked folds.

As his lips broke away from yours, you asked in a tone as sweet as barometz, “Do you want to have sex, Laios?”

“Yes,” he replied, voice desperate. “Yes, please.”

Your hands went to the hem of his loose, linen shirt, breaking your kiss again to lift it over his head. For the first time, you were able to see what he looked like underneath all the armor. His shoulders were wide-set, his torso soft while also being oddly defined. Most tall-men your party encountered thought Laios was on the slender side, not believing how strong he was. But once your eyes beheld his biceps, you knew how wrong they all were. He was built and muscular and – gods, you could admire him for hours.

Laios stopped your hands from going any further, a pleading look in his eyes. He pushed your nightgown up and bunched it at the waist. “Can I taste you first?”

You nodded quickly, already intoxicated by the way he kissed you, the way he smiled at you, all eager and excited to bury his face in your pussy. It didn’t take him long; he was lightning fast, moving down your body and lifting your legs on his shoulders so he could eat you out easier. His tongue dove into your folds immediately, and he groaned at the first taste. You were acutely more aware every night that he could do this for hours, just lapping at you lazily, bringing you to orgasm over and over again. No monster compared to the way you tasted.

His nose bumped your clit as he tongued your leaking hole, practically whimpering at every drop of your wetness that reached his mouth. Large, calloused hands wrapped around your thighs, making sure they didn’t close and digging into your flesh. Your own hands fisted into the sheets, your ass lifted off the bed, but you could still grind your hips against his face. Soft whines left your lips, nothing compared to the groans Laios was making as he ate you like he didn’t have a three-course meal just an hour ago. You almost wondered if you should tell him to quiet down, afraid of the others hearing, but you were too lost in the pleasure to care.

It was clear to you the closer you got to reaching your peak that Laios wasn’t keen on stopping. And as much as you truly wanted to cum all over his tongue, you thought it was important that you both have this new experience together. It took you a few seconds to finally gather the courage to say something, his tongue feeling too good as he swirled it around your sensitive clit. “Laios,” you called, and then a little louder, “Laios.”

He lifted his head, your juices dripping down his chin. A primal urge made him want to dive back into you, but he controlled himself. His tongue licked at your essence around his mouth, and you shuddered at the sight.

“I want you inside me,” you whispered. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, yes,” he muttered hoarsely, placing your legs so delicately back on the bed, as if they were made of glass. “Of course.” He so desperately wanted to taste you again, but he was even more excited for this, to finally feel something other than his hand wrapped around his cock. You were the first person he ever tasted, but it had been quite a while since he was truly intimate with someone, to slide into someone and feel them clench around him.

As you tugged off your nightgown, Laios began to work at the ties of his pants. But his hands stopped as they came undone, glancing up at you with hesitation. You looked so pretty sitting in the middle of his bed, waiting for him, naked and vulnerable. He felt silly for feeling so self-conscious, especially when you were so beautiful like this.

“Laios,” you cooed, caressing his arm, “there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And if you don’t want to, then we can stop.”

He almost choked on a laugh. “Trust me,” he replied, “I want to.”

After another beat of stalling, Laios finally stepped out of his bottoms and blushed pink from ear to ear. His cock was … well, it certainly was big. You sympathized with him; if anyone told you something about your body during sex, you would focus on that forever. But there was nothing for him to be embarrassed about. Truthfully, most males would kill to have what he did. His cock was thick and long, a few veins trailing down the shaft, curving up at his pretty red tip that was dripping with precum. You got even more wet just from staring at it, wondering what he would finally feel like inside of you.

Your mouth opened to say something, anything to make him feel better, but he was already talking: “I need a distraction so I don’t think about you staring at it.” He crawled back onto the bed and between your thighs, immediately pressing his lips to yours. You could taste yourself still on his mouth, and your arms wound around his shoulders instantly. His teeth tugged at your bottom lip, and he asked, “Can I just … ramble about monster facts for a minute?”

You blinked, not expecting that. Laios released your lower lip and sighed, clearly still nervous. “It’ll help me get over this feeling. I swear. Or if you want to stop this, we can. I’ll … I’ll understand –”

“Laios,” you huffed, your mouth pulling back into a sweet smile, “I want you to do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” he muttered, nuzzling his face back into your neck, placing sloppy kisses. “Did you know that … that harpies almost exclusively have the head of a female human and it is unknown if male harpies exist?”

His voice was muffled against your neck, but you could tell he was desperate and aching. You felt his hard length against your stomach, smearing precum on the exposed skin. “Really?” You breathed out, trying to engage with him but completely failing when he licked a stripe up your neck. A moan escaped your lips.

“There’s also … there’s, uh …” He was struggling to talk now, grasping his cock and giving it a few quick pumps before teasing the head against your dripping wet folds. Your legs instinctively opened wider for him, hoping to whatever gods were out there that you could take his cock. “There also exists a seabird variant of harpies called … called, Sirens. Their wings and … their – their tail look like a seagull’s.”

You could hardly breathe as you asked, “What else, Laios?”

He began to push inside you slowly, letting you adjust with each inch. “Okay, okay … uh … bicorns … bicorns hate – oh, fuck.” Just the feeling of your tight warmth wrapped around his cock had him biting into your shoulder, like you were the forbidden fruit. He could hardly string together a word, could hardly think, as he sank deeper and deeper into you, his whole body shaking. “Bicorns hate … hate virtue. They prefer – shit – immorality. It is believed that … doing all seven deadly sins will … will allow an individual to approach a bicorn – fuck. Fuck. It feels –”

When he was finally buried to the hilt, all he could do was breathe into your neck. You whined, locking your legs around his waist. The stretch was unbelievable; your walls gripped him like a vice. But it was even better than you could’ve imagined. If you had thought originally that the night would go this way, you would’ve at least brushed your hair. Laios didn’t care though, inhaling the flowery scent as he nosed your pretty strands. You couldn’t even comprehend – whether it be from the stretch of his thick cock inside you or the overwhelming amount of butterflies in your stomach – how you were so lucky to have found him.

Not to mention, you felt even luckier that this wasn’t happening on a cold dungeon floor.

With one hand carding into his hair, you chuckled under your breath, “Had enough of reciting monster facts?”

“Mmhmm …” He groaned, unable to form a sentence. You finally felt him pull back before pushing into you in one fast, deep thrust, making you shiver. Your body was hardly used to feeling this full, but you wanted him so badly that it was humiliating, a pink blush tinting your nose. “You feel so good,” he muttered.

You pulled on his hair, and his head lifted from your neck. His lips were swollen from kissing you. Yours probably looked the same. But that didn’t matter right now as he held your gaze and began thrusting into you a little faster. His eyes were the color of melted gold, flecked with amber and brown, and you felt like you could stare into them forever while he fucked you. Laios lifted one of your legs higher on his waist, but his other hand stayed around your middle, keeping you nestled against him.

“Laios,” you whimpered, feeling him nudge your clit with each roll of his hips. Despite his desperation, his pace was tender and relaxed, making sure you were adjusting to his size. He knew he was big – clearly, it was something he’d been self-conscious about for a while – but the way you were looking at him right now … he’d never felt more at ease, more special. This was all he ever wanted: to be close to someone like this, to find intimacy with someone he had true feelings for. All the other times had been stepping stones, leading to this moment with you, where your warmth enveloped him so nicely and your gaze made him want to cum on the spot.

His hips began to move a little faster, pushing even deeper inside you, as his mouth swallowed your moans in a hungry kiss. Face going hot, you trembled, and his cock pulsed inside you with each pass. Your nails dragged down his shoulder blades, leaving marks for him to examine later, like a predator with its prey. Goosebumps raised on his skin, feeling himself get closer … and closer … and closer. If you kept digging your nails into him like that, he’d surely lose his grasp on reality. But you just felt so good, so warm, and he craved you. Craved you like you were his last meal.

“Laios,” you croaked out when his lips broke from yours, “Laios, are you close?”

He could hardly say anything else but, “Mm …”

You thought you could get there by now from his tongue teasing you earlier, but you needed a little more friction. Bumping against your clit wasn’t enough. “Okay, okay,” you rambled, reaching down between your legs to touch yourself. “Just hold off for another minute. I’ll get there.”

Laios opened his eyes, realizing what you were doing, immediately envious of your own hand. “No, let me,” he murmured, voice like honey, and found your clit easily. “Then I can taste you on my fingers after.” His excitement made you laugh, which brought a smile to his own lips.

He shifted a little, pulling back so only his tip rested inside you, and fucked back into you at a different angle, one that brushed against your special spot. The stimulation of both your clit and g-spot had your back arching, whimpers slipping out of your lips like a chant.

“Is … this … better?” He asked, panting after each word.

Your voice was strained when you answered, “Y—Yes.”

His balls slapped against the underside of your ass, and he knew how close he was, but all he cared about at this moment was cumming together. He needed to see that look on your face when you reached your peak. He only got to see it a few times, when he lifted his eyes while tasting you, watching the way your lips parted and sweat ran down your forehead.

His fingers rubbed tight circles on your aching clit – knowing exactly what you liked – and you were close. So, so close already. Laios had a way of touching you that felt inquisitive, yet effortless. Like he wanted to learn which spots made you moan the loudest, while also already knowing without even touching you. You grew to like him not just because of his dopey grin, his protectiveness, or his positivity, but also for the way he was willing to learn with you, the way he needed you. And right now, he needed you to cum more than anything.

Tension coiled in your lower abdomen, making you gasp out, “Laios – fuck – Laios, I’m gonna –”

“I know, I know,” he rasped. His pace was nearing on brutal, his whole body shaking as he held off his release for you. “Together. We’ll – together.”

And then, your muscles tighten. You clenched around his cock, and it only took one more thrust against your g-spot to have you falling apart underneath him. You put a hand over your mouth as you cried out, careful of the rest of the party hearing. Your eyes rolled back, his fingers stroking your clit through it, and it all just felt too, too good. Your orgasm went on forever, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. As your walls spasmed around his cock, he groaned low, finally spilling into you. His hips stuttered. His mouth gasped for air against your lips, as he felt a ripple of relief from emptying himself inside you. He bit into your shoulder again to muffle his own noises. Your pussy convulsed, milking every last drop, and you were pretty sure you saw stars.

Once the aftershocks hit you both, he slumped against you, breathing in the scent of your hair again. Your fingers traced small circles onto his back muscles, your chest rising and falling with the fast beat of your heart. When his cock went soft inside you, his fingers finally left your clit and he brought them to his mouth. Your eyes were half-lidded as you watched him wrap his lips around his fingers and suck the juices off, moaning at the taste. He looked like an intricate painting; you couldn’t help but admire the sight.

His fingers left his mouth with a wet pop, and he whispered in a voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him, “You just taste so, so good.”

Laios kissed you again, slow and full of affection. You didn’t even care that he was still inside you; you could stay like this forever, pressed into his warm skin. Gods, you liked him so much that you immediately whimpered as his tongue slid into your mouth, and when he shuddered at your fingers on his back … you couldn’t believe you once questioned if he returned your feelings. You had both been so oblivious.

His mouth moved away from yours and he cupped your cheek. He took a moment to memorize the dusting of red across your face, the way your eyes hardly opened after sex, and then said, “Are you hungry? I think we both need a snack. It’s been a long night already.”

You giggled. “You had me at hungry.”

#my fics #fic: forbidden fruit #laios touden x reader #laios touden smut #laios x reader #laios touden x reader smut #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi x reader #dunmeshi #laios touden #laios dungeon meshi #one shot: forbidden fruit #fic: please eat

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theonottsbxtch · 6 months ago

Text

PRIVATE | LN4

an: requested by @bhuijnbhuijn-blog this was so fun to make! it feels to good to make a smau after a few days of straight writing

fc: random girls on pintrest and isabel larosa

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thank you london and thank you to my beloved

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yourusername: chiquita 😽

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appartment in monaco

You were perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, barefoot, legs dangling as you watched Lando move around the open kitchen. The soft click of cabinet doors and the muted thud of a cereal box landing on the counter are the only sounds, apart from the faint music playing from your speaker. It was your calm playlist, just background noise, a playlist you curated 100% but one Lando pretended he created to wind you up. He didn’t mind—he hummed along sometimes, absentmindedly, just like now. The late afternoon light filtered through the windows, casting a warm, golden hue over everything, making the moment feel even more private, more intimate.

Lando was shirtless wearing nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips. It was a version of him few people ever get to see. No fireproof suit, no helmet. No world watching his every move. Here, in this quiet corner of your shared world, he was just... him. And you loved him like this, more than anything.

As he fumbled with the coffee machine, you leant back on your hands, your fingers curling against the cool granite of the counter. The smell of coffee mingled with the lazy warmth of the afternoon. You were both settled into this comfortable rhythm of being together, the kind of domesticity that felt almost foreign when you thought of your lives outside these walls—your career, his racing, the flashing lights and the fans.

But here, it was different.

You’d been thinking about it for a while now. The thought had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks, and today felt like the right time to broach it. Or maybe it was just that the stillness of this moment made you feel brave. You took a breath, voice soft as you broke the quiet.

“I’ve been thinking…” Your words drift into the space between you, casual but with a certain weight that you know will catch his attention. Lando looked over at you, coffee cup in hand, waiting for you to continue. You smiled, trying to keep it light. “Maybe it’s time we go public… on Instagram.”

He froze for a beat, his eyes locking on yours as if he was trying to read your face, gauge how serious you were. Slowly, he set the cup down on the counter, his brow furrowing in that familiar way that meant he was already thinking too much.

“Public?” he repeated, like he was testing the word, feeling it out. His voice was calm, but you could sense the undertone of concern, the hesitation that came with anything that involves exposing more of your lives to the world outside. “You sure about that?”

You nodded, even though you knew he was not just asking for the sake of it. There was more behind his question than the words. It was not just a simple post to him—it was a line you were crossing, a step into a world he was all too familiar with, and not in a good way.

“I am,” you said softly. “We’ve been so careful, keeping things private, but… I don’t want to hide us anymore. I don’t want to pretend we’re not a part of each other’s lives.” You watched him as you spoke, searching his face for any sign of agreement, but he was still quiet, arms folded across his chest, his gaze drifting somewhere just past you.

Lando shifted his weight, leaning against the counter, his fingers drumming lightly against the granite, a telltale sign that his mind was working through what you’d just said. After a moment, he sighed, running a hand through his curls, the kind of movement that let you know he was trying to choose his words carefully.

“I get it,” he said finally, his voice softer now, but there was still a trace of reluctance. “But… it’s different for you. Your fans, they’re supportive. You’re already used to the attention. My world… it’s not like that. It can get ugly fast. And once we put it out there, it’s out there. We can’t take it back.”

You slid off the counter and moved toward him, your bare feet silent on the floor. Standing in front of him, you reached for his hands, threading your fingers through his. “I know, love. I know how hard it can be for you. But I’m not asking for some big, dramatic reveal. Just something simple. A photo. Something that feels like us, something quiet.”

He looked down at your joined hands, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. You could see the conflict in his eyes—the protective instinct he’d always had when it came to the life you’d built together versus the part of him that wanted to trust in your strength, in the fact that you could handle it.

“I don’t want them coming after you,” he said quietly, almost more to himself than to you. “I don’t want you to deal with the kind of hate I get.”

Lifting one hand to his face, cupping his cheek gently, your thumb grazed over his skin. “I’ve been in the public eye for years now. I’ve had my share of negativity, too. But we’ve got each other, right? We can handle it. I can handle it.” You paused, letting your words sink in. “And I’m tired of hiding something that makes me so happy.”

He leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment, as if he was trying to imagine what it would be like—the backlash, the media storm. But when he opened them again, there was something softer there, a quiet surrender. He still looked hesitant, but there was an acceptance in his expression now, like maybe, just maybe, he was willing to trust you on this.

“A photo,” he repeated, his voice almost resigned but not unkind. “Something simple.”

You nodded, your smile growing. “Just one.”

He chuckled softly, pulling you into his arms, his chin resting on the top of your head. “You really want this, huh?” His voice was a little lighter now, though you could still feel the weight of the decision lingering between you.

“I do,” you murmured into his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him—clean and warm, like home. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it. Just something that feels like us. Something honest.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands resting on your waist. “Alright,” he said, his eyes searching yours. “But if it all blows up in our faces, you’re the one dealing with the PR disaster.”

You laughed, the sound soft and full of relief. “Deal. I’ll take full responsibility.” You leant up and kissed him, your lips brushing his with a gentleness that said more than words ever could. “Promise.”

landonorris

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enjoyed the final show of the break, time for austin

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yeah, my boyfriend's pretty cool but he's not as cool as me

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appartment in monaco

It had been a few weeks since you had gone public, and the house felt the same. The kitchen still smelt like coffee in the afternoons, and Lando’s laughter still echoed through the rooms. But outside, in the world that wasn’t contained by these walls, things had shifted.

The first few days after you had posted that picture—a simple, candid shot of you two tangled on the couch, laughing at something neither of you can remember now—felt like a blur. Your Instagram blew up instantly, flooded with comments, some gushing, some not so kind. The had media picked it up, headlines spun their usual stories, and of course, his world—Formula 1, with its intense, relentless scrutiny—had its own opinions. Most of it was harmless, but some of it... wasn’t.

Lando was standing in front of the window, staring out at nothing in particular. You could tell from the way his shoulders were tense, from the way his hand kept moving to rub the back of his neck, that something had been weighing on him. He’d been quieter these last few days, not in the way that shut you out, but in the way that let you know he was overthinking, worrying about things he didn’t need to.

You were sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, pretending to scroll through Instagram, but your attention was on him. You watched as he checked his phone again, probably seeing another headline or some new wave of comments. His jaw tightened, and that was when you knew it’s time to say something.

“Lan,” you called out softly, trying to break the tension in the room. “Come over here.”

He hesitated for a second, like he was debating whether to pull you into his worry or let it be, but then he walked over, his feet dragging slightly on the wooden floor. He sank down beside you on the couch, letting out a long, tired breath. His arm came around your shoulders instinctively, pulling you closer, but his mind was clearly somewhere else.

“Talk to me,” you said gently, tilting your head to look up at him.

He didn’t meet your eyes at first, he just stared at the floor. “I’ve been seeing some of the comments,” Lando admitted, his voice low, as if he was trying to keep it casual but couldn’t quite manage it. “There’s a lot of hate. A lot of people saying… awful things. About you, about us.” He paused, running his hand through his hair. “I didn’t want this for you.”

You felt his arm tighten around you, like he was trying to protect you from something that was already out there, something he couldn’t control. It broke your heart a little, the way he carried that weight, like he was responsible for every cruel word thrown your way.

You shifted in his arms, turning to face him, one hand reaching up to touch his cheek. “I know,” you said softly. “But, darling, it’s not getting to me. Not even a little.” You smiled, trying to get him to see the truth in your eyes. “I’ve been in this business long enough to know that people are going to say whatever they want. But they don’t matter. You do.”

He finally looked up at you, his brow furrowed, still sceptical. “But some of it’s brutal,” he insisted, his voice tight. “They’re dragging you through the mud just because we went public. I didn’t want you to deal with this part of my life, the ugly part.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head, and the sound seemed to catch him off guard. “Honestly? I’ve dealt with worse. You should’ve seen the comments I got after that one music video,” you teased lightly, hoping to ease his worry. “But this? This is nothing.”

He didn’t look convinced, but you could see him trying to process what you were saying, like he wanted to believe you but couldn’t quite let go of his own guilt. So, you decided to prove it to him in a way you knew would get through that thick head of his.

With a sly smile, you grabbed your phone and opened Twitter, your fingers moved quickly over the screen as you pulled up your account. He watched you, confused, until you glanced up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

You bit your lip, pretending to think about it, then you tilted the phone toward him so he could see the tweet you’d just typed out. In bold letters, it read:

"how i sleep knowing i get to sleep with this hunk of a man at night and you don’t "

Below the text was the picture you’d been sitting on for a while—one of him sleeping in the paddock last season.

His eyes widened as he read it, then flicked to the photo. “You’re not serious,” he said, though there’s a laugh hidden in his voice now.

“Oh, I am very serious,” you said, grinning at him as you hovered over the “Tweet” button. “If people want to hate, let them. But I’m going to remind them who I get to come home to every night.”

He stared at you for a second, then shook his head, a small, incredulous smile finally tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

You shrugged, your finger tapping the button before he could say another word. “It’s out there now,” you said, holding up the phone in triumph. “Let them come for me.”

He leant back against the couch, running his hands over his face, but you could see the way his shoulders had finally relaxed, the tension ebbing away. He laughed, a real, genuine laugh, and it warmed you from the inside out. “You’re actually insane,” he said, pulling you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

You looked up at him, beaming. “Sweetheart, they can say whatever they want. It doesn’t change anything. I’ve got you, and that’s all that matters.”

For the first time in days, the worry in his eyes faded completely. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you tightly, his breath warm against your hair. “I love you,” he murmured, the words soft but full of meaning.

“I love you more.”

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haters gunna hate, anyway check out my new song x

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mysteryshoptls · 2 months ago

Text

SSR Malleus Draconia - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Courtyard]

Malleus: …Hm, so, these were the topics broached during today's Housewarden meeting, I see.

Malleus: There are quite a few points that should be relayed to the students under my care. I thank you for the information, Schoenheit.

Vil: Enough with your "I thank you." It's enough of a hassle to be forced to deliver the meeting minutes simply because we're both in the same year.

Malleus: I do have every intention of attending the meetings. However, it is only when the small rectangle is broken that those machinated sentences are sent to me.

Vil: Based on context, I assume that's supposed to be his phone and emails… Does he break his phone often?

Vil: At any rate, I'm just glad I was able to find you quickly. It would have been terrible If I had to go all the way to Diasomnia.

Malleus: I agree. My fellow dorm mates are quite busy today. They may not have had the time to entertain guests.

Vil: Busy? With what?

Malleus: Tomorrow is my birthday. Everyone is putting forth the effort for after-school party preparations.

Malleus: It seems they've been doing various preparations, from decorating the party venue to arranging the dishes to be served. I'm sure it will be quite a party.

Vil: I see… I'm actually a little surprised that you're this giddy over your own birthday.

Malleus: Giddy…? Heh, perhaps.

Vil: Well, I do hope you're able to attend your birthday party. And make sure to fix your phone, at least.

[Vil leaves]

Malleus: I think I will head back to the dormitory, as well. I should relay the information to the other dorm students.

[Hall of Mirrors]

Malleus: I've scoured every inch of this academy's campus…

Malleus: And as I thought, there are no other run-down buildings similar to Ramshackle.

Malleus: I used to enjoy strolling its grounds at night... Oh, well. There are plenty of buildings.

Malleus: If I simply wait 100 years or so, they should be in peak condition then. I'll simply look forward to that moment and head back to the dormitory for now.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Hallway]

[Sebek speaks]

Malleus: …Ah, Sebek, you're still awake. Lower your voice. You'll wake the others.

[Sebek speaks]

Malleus: Heh, there is no need for you to apologize so strongly. You should head to bed soon, as well.

[Sebek speaks]

Malleus: Now, then… I suppose I should take a bath and head back to my own room.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Malleus's Room]

Malleus: It seems as though the humans have already all fallen asleep…

Malleus: Yet, it is still too early for me. I suppose I could look over what was taught in class today.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Malleus's Room]

Malleus: Hm, interesting… We only briefly touched this topic in class, but this is actually quite fascinating once I delve further into it.

Malleus: There are times that such common knowledge to humans is a brand new discovery for me.

Malleus: Because there are these occasional surprises, I find my time studying here at this academy to be actually worthwhile. …Do you not agree?

Malleus: My dear gargoyle?

Malleus: …Heh, you are looking spectacular today. I should expect so, as my best work by far.

Malleus: I should begin thinking about where on the castle grounds I should place it once I return to Briar Valley.

Malleus: …Ah, right. On that subject, there was something I intended to fill in.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Malleus: The Headmage once cautioned me to not keep so many gargoyles in my room, as the floor would cave in…

Malleus: However, the issue at hand here is the durability of the dormitory room floors. There is no reason I should have been the one scolded about it.

Malleus: There are many gargoyles all over this campus that is in need of serious repair.

Malleus: It is arduous enough to bring them to my room to repair them and transport them all the way back to their rightful place… And yet he rudely states that it wasn't even asked of me to do.

Malleus: "I urgently request the floors be reinforced. Be sure to improve the durability so as to be capable of holding as much as 50 gargoyles."

Malleus: This should be good enough. Now… I think I will welcome in a little night breeze.

Malleus: Ah, there are no clouds in the heavens tonight. The stars shine so brilliantly.

Malleus: When I first came to this academy, I was astounded by how differently the stars could be seen.

Malleus: In Briar Valley, both the town and the castle were lit all through the night.

Malleus: However, when the sun goes down here, most of the light disappears and it seems as though the stars shine brighter.

Malleus: I find it fascinating that despite it being the same night sky, the different environment lends to a different view.

Malleus: Even if there is no light, the stars are bright enough to see by. I think I shall spend the rest of the evening right here.

Malleus: …The skies are lightening. I was so caught up that I completely neglected the time.

Malleus: Despite the time spent here, I still feel at ease at night. It is rather difficult to adjust my schedule to those who do not thrive in the nighttime as I do.

Malleus: I suppose that is also part of the learning experience. I should try to sleep soon.

Malleus: If I am unable to get enough rest, it will affect both my classwork, and the party being held after school.

[Diasomnia Dorm – Malleus's Room]

[ting, ting]

Malleus: Mm… Time to get up already, hm.

Malleus: Mmhh… Hah. It is still strange to awaken to daylight.

Malleus: I should clear my head.

[magically splashes water]

Malleus: …The cold water somewhat helped to snap me awake. I suppose I should start preparing for the day.

Malleus: Come to me, mirror. Brush, detangle my hair…

Malleus: Yaaaawn…

Malleus: Urgh, I did not mean to let out such a large yawn. If I were to do such a thing before others, I would not hear the end of it from Grandmother.

Malleus: …Now that I think of it, how old was I when I used my magic half-asleep and caused my hair to tangle up in my horns?

Malleus: If I recall, it was not long after I was finally capable of taking on my human form… Heh, that brought back some nostalgic memories.

Malleus: Now, next I should… Ah, yes, Lilia was saying something about how the birthday boy should dress more lavishly.

Malleus: It may be unbecoming of me to wear my makeup as I normally do. I should select the colors I want to wear while I'm at it. First, my lips…

Malleus: How about red? This noble shade is said to be the color the Thorn Fairy would wear to celebrations… But could this be a little too garish?

Malleus: Purple, perhaps? Lip brush, paint mine lips the color of dark purple… Ah, yes, this is the perfect shade.

Malleus: However, thinking it over, wouldn't black be a more suitable color for a celebratory occasion, as it is the norm in Briar Valley currently?

Malleus: How vexing. Then, what if I were to mix the colors… Like this?

Malleus: Aah, a good shade, as I thought. I think I will wear this color to the after-school party.

Malleus: As long as I prepare ahead of time like this, I should not be late at all. I'm sure I'll make it in time for the party, as well.

[Main Street]

[zoom!]

Vil: Wah!?

Vil: What was that sudden gust…? Wait, Malleus?

Vil: Stop right there, it's dangerous to fly that fast! What if you hit something and cause an injury!?

Malleus: Ah, Schoenheit. Apologies, I was not watching where I was going.

Vil: Why were you in such a… Oh? Right, weren't you saying today was your birthday?

Vil: Weren't you throwing a party? What are you doing here?

Malleus: I am heading there now.

Malleus: While the party preparations were in its final stages, I was thinking of what would be the best makeup to wear today.

Malleus: They said they would alert me once the preparations were completed, however I found myself so engrossed that I did not notice their messages.

Malleus: This darn thing even sends notifications without a single sound for what should be important information. I absolutely cannot trust that small rectangle.

Vil: Notifications without a single sound…?

Vil: …Do you not know how to turn your phone off silent mode?

Malleus: What do you mean by silent mode?

Vil: …Ugghh… Fine, hand me your phone. I will turn the sound on.

Malleus: Is that alright? But…

Vil: If you're late to any meeting from here on out, I absolutely will not stand for it. And there is no need to worry, this won't take more than a couple minutes.

Vil: I'm sure you'll still make it on time to your party. Consider this my birthday present to you.

Malleus: Mm, you're right. I appreciate your gift.

Requested by @kingren77 and @sakurakudo.

#twisted wonderland #twst #malleus draconia #vil schoenheit #twst malleus #twst vil #twst sebek #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: lilia #mention: maleficia #mention: crowley

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vesearlee · 2 months ago

Text

──── 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕

Like the flow of ink across skin, his artistry carried stories to the surface: delicate linework, shaded secrets, painted dreams. Not only did artwork hold the stories he created, but his own decorated arms told tales of their own, and you would be hard pressed to keep anything a secret among the soothing hum of his tattoo machine and voice while you lay in the sanctuary of his workspace, drawn taut by the tension of his proximity that you craved more of.

But with the fierce tide of secrets, also came burning revelations.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── Tattoo Artist!Rafayel x F!Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ── 6.5k 𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── T 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ── Tooth Rotting Fluff, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, teasing and flirting, slight angst (anxiety and insecurity), first kiss, first tattoo 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ── HERE 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ── HERE 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ── This whole fic was inspired by the utterly phenomenally talented @obligatedart and her Tattoo Artist!Rafayel artwork ― I was captivated and on the first day of working on this, I wrote 2k words in the span of 2 hours, never have I been so inspired. ── Thank you so, so much for allowing me to work with you on this, love. I had the time of my life! please be sure to check her out her blog or visit her linktree! ── Event runners, please mind the tags and specifics written at the end of this fic, well beyond the read more cut... this fic has 32 fills in total.

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

─── 𝑳𝑨𝑫𝑺 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ───

“Sooo,” Rafayel teased, the vowel long on his tongue. “I’ve got no clients this afternoon. What does a fishie like me gotta do to get your cute butt into my studio, kitty?”

You sighed into the phone, picturing the way he would be sitting on the high stool at the counter of his shop, swinging his legs while he held the phone between his shoulder and neck to talk to you. There were no doubts to what his hands were occupied by — through the speaker in your ear, you could hear the quiet hash of a lead pencil brushing over paper.

“You’re only asking because you want to be the one to finally break me into the world of tattoos, or whatever.”

It was true, the tattoo artist you called your best friend and whom you adored beyond what was platonic, had used every single trick in the book of bribery and persuasion to get you through the door and onto his chair as his client.

An honour that many artistically inclined people waited years for — to have the opportunity to display even a stroke of the prodigy’s work.

But what Rafayel didn’t know, however, was that the decision was already made weeks ago — the very concept of your tattoo design he himself sketched with your studious input would stretch from your collarbone and down towards your shoulder. Swirls of colour with strong lines would map the delicate skin.

A coy laugh filled your ear. The butterflies in your stomach roared to life at the sound. “Okay, you caught me, I’m busted.” There was a short pause where you could hear the muffled sound of shuffling, and his next words sounded somehow closer — as though they were spoken against the shell of your ear, his hot breath caressing the skin softly. “What’d’ya say, cutie?”

You stopped and thought. While your attraction was no doubt a hesitant topic for you to broach to anyone but your journal — the butterflies in your stomach swirled in agreement to that thought — holding out the game of cat and mouse no longer appealed to you. Each glance, word, or touch from Rafayel never failed to spark that heat, and you knew, deep down, that maybe getting this tattoo was only an excuse to be close to him; to feel the touch you craved with no ulterior motive.

Ulterior motive, my ass, you scolded internally.

But if it were true, and he had no clients for the afternoon — no matter how suspicious that may be — the two of you would be free to see one another with no outside expectation of attention being diverted elsewhere.

“Hmm,” you hummed, unsure if the teasing lilt of your tone was nullified. “I don’t know, Raffie. I mean, maybe? I’m just not sure.”

The sound of Rafayel’s sharp inhale made you worry your bottom lip with your teeth. “What do you mean ‘I don’t know’? You’ve been thinking of this design for ages!” The expression of indignation in his tone and undoubtedly on his pretty features made your stomach tie in knots — the furrow of his pierced brows and pout of his full lips, while he tilted his head to the side to better analyse your words.

“It’s–” you tried, but he cut you off.

“What’s stopping you, huh? D’you want more colour, maybe?” A sudden gasp from the speaker made you jump slightly. “Have you found another artist?”

“No! No, you dummy,” you rushed, horrified at the idea of any other person making their mark on you.

Only, Rafayel laughed, the sound of it was real and deep in his chest. “I’m only teasin’ you.”

“Oh, you– No, what’s stopping me is that once I get one, I might not be able to stop. You might just have a new regular, Raf,” you replied petulantly, crossing an arm over your chest in protest.

He scoffed, and you could feel the eyeroll he sent your way in your very soul. “You say that like it’s a problem—you don’t think I wanna see my favourite girl more often? Especially so I can tattoo her?” It truly was there now, the petulant scowl on his downturned lips was crystal clear in your mind. “C’mon, I thought you were a clever kitty.”

“Do you realise just how annoying you are?” you asked seriously. Despite your words, you started to get ready to leave all the same.

“Yup.”

A small silence grew, though it wasn’t uncomfortable, rather he seemed to be waiting for a confirmation. And there was no way you would give him the satisfaction.

“Well,” he sighed, “if you don’t want it, it’s fine. But I’m lonely.” That pout on his lips made his tone of petulance far more exaggerated. “Come and keep me company.”

“Fine,” you huffed, a ghost of a smile on your lips. “I’m headed over, do you want anything while I’m on my way?”

“Yes!” His shout made you wince and hastily pull the phone from your ear. Even then you could hear his exclamations of joy at being brought snacks. You finally put the speaker back to your ear as he finished with: “Gods, yes. Uh– I wouldn’t mind–”

“Your usual?”

“I was gonna say–” He groaned. “Ugh, you know me too well.” The sound of him moving over the line made you raise a brow in silent question while you slipped your shoes on. “Yes, my usual, please.”

“Unfortunately for me, I do.”

And you ended the call before you could hear his retort.

The drive to his tattoo shop was pleasant and short — the sight of the ocean’s swell so close to his haven always gave you pause at the sheer beauty.

You turned your car into a free parking space, right out the front of the elaborately decorated studio — seashells and fire lilies decorated the gold, bordered windows, and with the reflection of the water a few meters away, you could almost swear the petals danced with the movement of the waves.

The aroma of sea salt filled your senses as you stepped out of your car and into the sea breeze. It made a warmth fill you from the tip of your toes to the tips of your fingers, much like the wave of contentment you felt when you saw Rafayel yourself.

His tattoo studio truly was your haven, too — hours upon hours had been spent behind those walls, helping the artist work through portfolio to portfolio, all while he groused at the uptick of unpleasant encounters with arrogant clients.

It wasn’t all an unfortunate time of complaints, however.

Your memories of his wide smile while he hung frames of his own works on the walls still engrained in your mind. How, on the frequent occasion of him being so focused on his work, you would have the exceedingly rare instance of hearing him sing quietly; the melodic tune only just loud enough to hear, but you treasured it all the same.

All of the instances warmed your heart, and suddenly, you found yourself smiling widely as you approached the door. It was the right decision to make today the day.

Before you could reach the singular step at the entryway, the door was swung open with a cry of happiness.

Rafayel burst through the doorway, his smile blinding with his glee at seeing you. While he approached, you took notice of how he looked — the glint of his eyes was shimmering with the rays of the sun, making the blue and pink hues breathtakingly beautiful.

The black shirt he wore was loose on his lithe frame, and the sleeves were folded at his elbows to better display the stunning array of ink on both of his forearms that extended down to his hands. A few rings adorned his fingers — each as pretty and elaborate as the last.

Black ink filled the black spaces between an array of marine designs on one arm, while his other was decorated with elaborate scales, separated by the use of negative space. Layered over the top of the rows and rows of scales, was a luminous, finned entity, the colours blending seamlessly together to match the shades of his eyes.

A singular fire lily on his forearm stood out the most to you, however, and your heart swooped at the sight of it.

“There’s my girl!” Rafayel called, jogging towards you. His hair was loose around his face, the purple strands swaying with his gait. “Hey, you.”

His arms wrapped around your middle as soon as he collided with you, and you let out a gasp of surprise as he swayed you side to side. “Hey, my favourite fishie.” You kissed his cheek and pulled back, smiling just as widely as he was.

The sun shone down, and the rays of light reflected off of the silver piercings on the bridge of his nose to his dimple piercings. They were a simple titanium silver, but they gleamed brighter than diamonds as you mapped his face.

From the round collar of his shirt, the theme of his tattoos continued all the way up to his sharp jawline — the use of scales and negative space repeated, but instead of solid, dark shading on his arm, the scales were engraved with the gentle touch of flower petals to fill each one.

There was no splash of colour to compliment, rather the monochrome palette of black and grey applied to a standard of perfection only an artist could attain. Strands of his purple hair fell over the lines of his tattoos as he stood there, staring at you like you were the blessing he needed for that day.

Which, you supposed you were.

“You brought me a snack?” Rafayel asked, his eyes widening slightly while his lower lip pouted.

In reply, you shook the brown paper bag in your hand — the momentary stop at the convenience store worth it for the utter adoration in his expression. “I swear the way to your heart is through your bottomless tummy,” you teased, poking his stomach.

“Hey! Hands off, you’re touching the goods!” He snatched the bag and danced just out of reach of your fingers to peer inside.

You snorted a laugh and shook your head. “What goods?”

Rafayel’s eyes snapped up to glare at you. “Puh-lease, I have abs, okay?”

The butterflies pivoted their movements in your stomach, and you cleared your throat to fight the bubble of emotion in your throat, but he didn’t notice your sudden, flustered actions on account of his face being buried in your peace offering.

His mussed hair suddenly moved and revealed his gleeful expression. “Seaweed chips?”

“Only the best for my man.”

“Ugh, I could kiss you. C’mon, come inside.” Rafayel grabbed your hand and led you back towards his studio, his grip sure and true — unwilling to let go. And you couldn’t help but feel dizzy over how you wanted him to make good on his threat, or the fact that your hand fit so perfectly in his.

The interior of his studio was aglow, to say the least. The walls facing the sea were floor to ceiling windows with pillars between each stretch of glass — every single one decorated with the theme of water in mind. Your favourite one depicted a pod of dolphins, their fins seeming to move and chase the momentum to propel them forward and catch the pearlescent spheres of bubbles.

A few of the windows were wide open to the view — curtains swayed with the sea breeze, and with it they carried the sound of cawing seagulls.

“They’re loud today,” Rafayel commented, nodding his head towards a heaped pile of sand a few paces from the window, where a small gathering of gulls called to one another endlessly while you watched. “I could’a sworn they’d been possessed by you at one point, they were so obnoxious.”

You shot a glare at the artist, though he only smirked. “What are they going on about, then?” The bag of treats in Rafayel’s grasp made a dull thump as it settled on the till counter. “Surely they aren’t shouting prophecies and telling you that I was going to come today.”

“And what would you say if I said yes, cutie?” Rafayel laughed heartily at your exaggerated eyeroll, and he then gestured towards a large fishbowl. “Someone else also missed you.”

“It’s only been like, two days,” you sighed, but you still looked towards the fishbowl and found a small, red fish pacing the glass — back and forth, back and forth. If he were a dog, you would have guessed his tail would be wildly wagging with excitement. “Hey, Reddie, baby.”

The fish did a fast loop and faced you, his fanned tail swishing from side to side so fast that small bubbles floated to the surface of his water. You walked over, smiling wildly as you felt Rafayel’s dumbfounded gaze watching your every move.

The tip of your finger touched the cool, smooth surface of the glass.

“I would have thought that you missed Reddie more than me. What the hell?” Rafayel grumbled, and just as you looked over at him, you found his arms crossed over his toned chest, the fabric of his shirt rumpled and pulled tight over the muscles of his biceps. “Why don’t you greet me like that, huh?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” you cooed, and you stepped back from Reddie’s tank. “Would you like a re-do?”

“Well duh.”

You smiled gently and walked towards him. “Hey, Raffie, baby,” you repeated, and you lifted your finger to boop the tip of his sharp nose.

In response, his nose scrunched, and he shook his head, the sway of his hair mesmerising. With such a small distance between you both, you took him in, committing the way his eyes sparkled with mirth and the quirk of his lips, the metal of his snake bite piercing reflecting the afternoon sun’s light.

“That it, kitty?” he teased, the tip of his tongue running over his lips.

“That’s it,” you affirmed, nodding assuredly — albeit ignoring the swoop of your stomach as you watched the movement on his tongue. Get it together, you reminded inwardly. “So, what’s on the agenda today, my second favourite fishie?”

“Second favourite?” Rafayel scoffed. “You’re a brat, y’know that, right?”

“Yup.”

Before long, you were lounging on the seashell-shaped couch in the reception area, while Rafayel kept fiddling around behind the counter, the scratch of lead over paper louder this time compared to earlier. “What are you up to?”

He looked up, his wide-eyed gaze meeting yours briefly before he glanced back downward. “Nothin’.”

“Nothing? That’s a lie if ever I heard one,” you teased, sitting up straight. Rafayel didn’t look up at you again, until: “I guess we’re both hiding secrets today then.”

Fiery eyes met yours faster than you could blink, and he narrowed his gaze. “And what do you mean by that absolutely ridiculous accusation, Miss Fishie?”

You were in trouble now — that title had only been bestowed upon you when Rafayel suspected something, whether it be a prank, secret, or whatever else he could sense with his otherworldly observational skills. “Miss Fishie? I haven’t done anything–!”

“You’re not doing yourself any favours by getting so defensive, cutie,” he laughed, sitting up straighter on his stool and crossing his leg over his knee. His shirt creased as he moved, and he placed his elbow on the countertop, his chin now resting in his hand. “Go on, shoot—what’s got my girl’s tongue all tied and twisted?”

You blinked, taken aback by his curiosity — there was no doubt you expected as much, but to be such a genuine interest without the undercurrent of his usual teasing manner was unusual. “Uh– Well…”

Rafayel arched a brow, urging you to continue with his free hand before he draped it over his thigh and spun his pencil absentmindedly over his knuckles.

“Well I decided something…”

“And that something is?”

A deep, steadying breath did nothing to calm the racing beat of your heart. The sudden nerves of admitting your desire to have the tattoo snuck up on you far faster than you hoped they would. In one exhale, you said: “I want you to tattoo me with that design you came up with.”

It was Rafayel’s turn to sit speechless.

The pencil that was flipping effortlessly over and through his nimble fingers fell to the floor with a deafening clatter in the silence that filled the space between you — though it was only a few paces, it suddenly felt like a cavernous trek.

He cleared his throat, and you looked at your lap, hastily placing your hands there to fidget and have an excuse not to meet his eyes.

“You want me to what? Did I just hear you right?” His voice was strained with an indiscernible emotion, though you noticed the rasp of his tenor was far from unpleasant.

“You heard me right,” you mumbled, picking at the skin by your fingernails. Footsteps sounded over the floor of his studio, and they grew louder until you could see the source toe to toe with you from under your lashes.

The warmth of Rafayel’s fingers brushed against your chin, and he cradled your jaw to move your head upwards, forcing you to meet his gaze. A smile, one of genuine warmth and happiness, pulled at the corners of his lips, and it somehow made the gleam of his eyes even more dazzling.

“You want me to tattoo you?” His voice was soft, and as he spoke, you felt his thumb brush gently over your skin. “How long have you been planning this, kitty?”

“I decided ages ago, but I only worked up enough courage this morning.”

Rafayel beamed — the piercings on his lips, nose, and brows outshone by the brightness of his smile. “Okay then. Let’s get you ready, yeah?” He offered his hand, and you took it, letting him help you up from the couch. “Can’t have my favourite client disappointed, so I’ll pull out all the stops.”

You let out a nervous chuckle, squeezing his hand. “I couldn’t ever be disappointed by you, Raf.”

“Nice to know you have so much faith in me,” he said, smiling over his shoulder at you.

A closed door came into view, and the thud of your heart against your ribs grew painful — it was his space, where he worked day in and day out, where he tattooed true masterpieces on his clients and where he was in his element.

Your breath hitched, and he noticed.

“Hang on,” Rafayel whispered, and you were suddenly crushed to his chest, the warmth of his body seeping into yours and grounding you in the present. “What’s goin’ on in that head’a yours? Talk to me.”

The rumble of his voice in your ears soothed the rush of blood that thrummed in your ears, and you took another deep breath. “Just nervous, I think?”

Rafayel squeezed you tight, and stepped back to lean in close, his nose almost touching yours. “That’s alright, cutie. It’s me, and you’re safe.” His hot breath fanned over your lips, and the butterflies rampaged through your stomach at his proximity — it would be so easy to close the distance, to claim his lips and take what you’ve craved for so long.

The train of thought must have shown on your expression because he winked, the tip of his tongue toying with the shining piercing. You watched the action, only to realise he was doing it on purpose. “Up here, pretty girl.”

You blinked, your focus moving from his lips to his eyes. “I’ve got you and I’ll be sure to make this first tattoo a beautiful one; hard to surpass the canvas herself, but an artist’s gotta try, yeah?”

A small smile tugged at your lips, and Rafayel grinned back at you before he kissed your forehead.

One step after the other, you followed behind him, your hand still held tightly by his as he guided you into his booth.

The walls were painted in a pastel blue — a colour that soothed something deep in your soul, while splashes of fiery red and soft pinks decorated the space in all manners of fauna and flora, from whales to coral.

“There it is,” you breathed through a wide smile, a small giggle of laughter making your voice shake. The culprit for such awe was framed on a wall — the same, impassioned shades of red, orange, and yellow of the petals were identical to the ones that adorned Rafayel’s arm. A fire lily, symbolising such fierce passion, couldn’t be imagined to be placed anywhere else beside the artist’s space.

“There it is,” said artist assured.

The piece was simple but symbolic; one afternoon of you both glued to the hip of the other, brushes in hand while you playfully splattered paint over the canvas in a bid to sabotage his attempts to challenge you. What resulted was an outlined flower with flames of pink that licked the leaves, never charring the beauty of your joined creation.

“Never have and never will move this one,” he continued, walking backwards. “Thomas was insistent the other day on moving it to the gallery.”

“He what?” you gasped, astonished. While Rafayel was a renowned tattoo artist, his venture into traditional styles resulted in his need for a manager to juggle the endless pieces and enquiries of purchases. “But didn’t you tell–?”

“Oh, I did.” The stool next to the padded chair squeaked as Rafayel sat down, and the wheels spun as he pushed himself to the corner, where all of his supplies were messily placed. “Haven’t seen him run so fast from a lit match before.”

The implication of a lit match being waved around the precious creation made your heart leap with fear, and you started forwards, a finger pointed at his chest. “Raffie!”

“Hey, hey, it’s not harmed, is it? Kitty–! Stop–” His protests were cut short by his laugh, the jabs of your fingers hitting each ticklish spot on his side with precision. “Enough, enough—I yield!”

The wheels of his stool squealed with how fast he pushed away from your looming figure, and he held his hands up in surrender — deep, navy blue and black lines that curved around his thumb, index, and ring finger was the only art visible in his act of contrition. The rings gleamed like his piercings under the studio lights overhead.

“Good,” you goaded, lifting your chin. “Don’t you dare do that again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said aloud, but as he turned away to focus on his supplies again, you could have sworn you heard a mumbled continuation of: “Maybe I would if you react like that. Adorable.”

As he fiddled with his tools, you walked around the space. Frames were hung high on walls with awards he won over the years, as well as a few choices of his most prideful works — one of which was a stunning, surrealist, fantastical interpretation of Reddie and a Merman, the red scales of Reddie’s body contrasting against the crystal blue of the Merman’s fins.

“Okay, cutie,” Rafayel sang from behind you, the excitement in his voice far from hidden. You turned around and found him staring up at you, his eyes gleaming with a kind of tender adoration.

His palm slapped the leather of the reclined chair. “I’ll get you to take just your shirt off so I can get to your shoulder,” he said quietly, gesturing to the stencil he had made. “Then you can get your cute butt up here, and let’s get started, yeah?”

“My shirt off…?” you whispered, eyes widening slightly. Of all the possibilities and outcomes of you getting this tattoo, somehow, this was the one thing you had not considered — naturally, being close with Rafayel meant that accidents did happen and so many hasty apologies had been said through laughter, but as for a purposeful act of this nature made your stomach tie in anxious knots again.

It didn’t help that the swirling feeling of restless butterflies grew worse the longer he stared up at you from his perch on his stool.

“Yeah, Miss Fishie,” he teased, tapping the shining leather of the seat. “Won’t be an accident this time—I can turn around if it’ll help.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “What? It’s fine, kitty. I think you’re cute, y’know, so I don’t mind.”

Oh.

“What?”

Rafayel chuckled and shook his head. “C’mon, times tickin’ away. I wanna get started.”

“You are such a smug asshole,” you groused, trying utterly hard to ignore the heat crawling up from the collar of your shirt. “Seriously, you really are.”

“Yeah, and yet, here you are, my feisty kitty.” He made a show of smirking cheekily while he turned around, and he reached for the box of gloves on his trolley to pull free a pair.

The thunderous beat of your heart made you swallow thickly, and you cleared your throat to try and force it to settle in place, though it was in vain. Your hands gripped the hem of your shirt, and slowly, ever so carefully, the fabric revealed the skin of your stomach, your chest and neck, until it passed over your head to be held in your trembling hand. A shaky exhale made your sides flutter.

The stool Rafayel sat on made a small clinking noise as he moved to sit comfortably. “You ready now, hmm?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, looking at the floor hastily when he made a move to turn around.

The silence swelled uncomfortably, and it passed for a beat until you heard him ask: “What’s up, kitty? You wanna get on the chair for me…?”

“Oh, uh– Sorry, Raf–”

“If you apologise again, I will take this–” Rafayel picked up the tattoo machine on the table beside him, and effortlessly twirled it in his hand, “And I will tattoo a post it note on your forehead saying idiot.”

His sudden and ridiculous threat made a small laugh burst out of your constricting chest, and you stepped slowly towards the aforementioned chair. “You wouldn’t do that–?”

“Bet. Try me.” He scooted the stool closer to the chair and offered his hand to help you up onto the comfortable padding. “Apologise again and you’ll see.”

A small, nervous sigh escaped your lips, and with the guidance of Rafayel’s cool, smooth hands on your back and shoulder, you laid back against the chair, somewhat uncomfortable with the position — especially since he was so damned close to your side that you could feel every single one of his exhales against the skin of your shoulder or chest, dependent on where he positioned himself to place the stencil.

He hummed quietly as he worked, tilting his head side to side while you laid stiffly underneath his scrutinising gaze. “If you sit like this for the whole session,” he started, licking his lips absentmindedly, and he leaned in so close while looking at your shoulder that his loose hair tickled the tip of your nose. “I’m not taking the blame for how sore you’re gonna feel after—though it gives me an excuse to give you a world-famous-Rafayel-massage.”

“World famous, huh? Who else has had one?”

The colours in his irises burned at your question, and he stared at you from the corner of his eyes. “Only one person—she may be a brat, but she’s my world and I wouldn’t have it any other way. So don’t you worry, cutie.”

“Raffie,” you whined, looking away from his intense gaze as though it seared through you, the burn of it terrifying and oh, so addictive. “Don’t do that to me, please.”

“Hmm,” he hummed again, arching a brow before he focused back on his task. The click of his tongue sounded while he smoothed over the paper and gently pulled it away from your skin to reveal blue and purple lines from the stencil. “Sorry, kitty, ‘fraid I can’t listen, ‘specially not when there’s truth to it.”

You groaned low in your throat and threw your arm over your eyes to shield yourself from the embarrassment of meeting his stare.

“‘Kay, we’re good to get started. You feelin’ ready?” he asked suddenly, his voice now coming from beside you as opposed to above you.

You moved your arm and blinked against the sudden, bright light, and you glanced to the side.

Rafayel was sitting patiently, his hands in his lap while a small smile curled his lips upwards — the light in his eyes didn’t reflect just the bulb above you, but his joy for the moment. “Hmm?” he prompted, tilting his head to the side.

Slowly, you turned your head forward, inhaled deeply, and let it out with a huff as you stared up at the ceiling. “Better now than never.”

“That’s the spirit,” he teased.

Movement from the very corner of your peripherals made you snap your attention towards Rafayel once more, only, you froze in place at the sight. A hair band was around his wrist while both his hands raked through his hair — streaks of purple caught the light as he moved uncooperative strands into a messy up-do that left the longer parts of his hair remaining loose down the back of his neck.

With the hair gone from his forehead, his eyes became far more piercing — colours that would normally be intense in their own right, bore into your very being as you met his gaze.

The gloves he grabbed from a small cardboard box fit snug over his hands, and the plastic snapped against his wrist while he adjusted them to be more comfortable. “Alright then, kitty.” He winked and leaned forward, one gloved hand resting on the skin below your collar bone, while the other securely held the machine. “Here we go.”

The initial prick of the inked needles on your skin made you hiss with the sudden pain, and your head jerked upwards from the headrest to stare into his face. “Shit!”

“You’re okay,” Rafayel soothed. “It’s always gonna hurt more during the first few—wanna relax and let me work?”

You grimaced and rested your head back down onto the headpiece of the chair. “Not like I got a choice, right?”

“Nup.”

Time passed slowly while the ink coloured your skin, each stroke of the needles stung a little less than the last and the discomfort plateaued enough for you to lay more comfortably in the seat. “You’re doin’ well, kitty,” Rafayel praised softly, the hum of the machine momentarily silenced as he wiped the tender flesh of your shoulder, cleaning it of built-up ink. “Not much longer to go, ‘kay?”

“Okay.”

A small silence stretched, only occupied by the droning hum of the needles effortlessly working, and the slight hitch of your breath as he moved the machine.

The light over your shoulder lit up his sharp features, and you smiled at him through the sting of pain. With the adrenaline of sitting still while he worked, a sudden rush of bravery overtook you — starting at the tips of your fingers and your toes, much like the wave of warmth earlier, and it settled in the depths of your stomach like a molten weight. “Raf…”

“Mm? Yeah, cutie?” he asked, his eyes not leaving the fast-disappearing blue, stencilled lines on your shoulder. “What’s up, you alright?”

Fire coursed through your stomach, swirling upwards into your chest and around your heart. The feeling was intoxicating, freeing with its very presence. “Have I ever told you…” You licked your bottom lip, the sudden dryness of your mouth forcing you to clear your throat.

Your best friend, the light of your life, and the recipient of your deepest affection, stopped the machine in his hand and glanced upwards, arching a brow in question. “Told me what?”

You blinked and dragged a deep lungful of air to quell the rioting butterflies in your stomach. In one breath, you exhaled and spoke quickly. “That I think you’re really pretty.”

A beat passed, another, and another.

Rafayel seemed to have frozen in place. The amethyst of his eyes bloomed to be blinding, though he sat as still as a geode, unmoving with shock — the rise and fall of his chest from each breath even ceased.

A sobering amount of ice flooded your veins and embarrassment burned up the skin of your chest and neck, the scorching pain of the needles entirely unlike it. The reality of preferring to be chained to the chair for eternity with the constant pricks of needles over your delicate skin, rather than take in the way he only sat there, hit you like a tidal wave.

“I’m sorry–” You gasped, the build up of shameful tears forcing their way to the corner of your eyes. “I didn’t–” The chair rattled as you hastily moved to sit up on your elbows. “I’m so sorry, I’ll go–”

Before you could even sit up and run from the room, you were forced backwards by the solid weight of a body. Tattooed arms caged you against the chair — steadfast, gloved hands were planted either side of your hips, while you scurried backwards with a squeak of shock.

Rafayel had moved so fast it was a blur. All you could see was his face, the way his cheekbones were dusted pink; how his lips were shining from the light next to you.

“Raf–!”

“Shut up.”

You tried to shy backwards, to gain some distance from his suffocating presence, but he followed, keeping his nose close enough to yours to bump against the tip of it — a normal, cute tradition that suddenly held you in its vice just as tightly as the man who loomed over you.

“Please–”

“I said shut up, cutie.” Rafayel remained immovable, his hands still caged you in place — no matter how hard you tried to scoot backwards over the leather chair, you could not escape the warmth of his molten stare, or the way his breath came in slow, deep exhales over your cheek and jaw as you desperately looked everywhere around the room but at him. “Look at me.”

“Please don’t make me.” The pressure of tears on your waterline made you squeeze them shut, desperate to stem the flow. “Please, I– Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

“Who are you talking to, kitty? You, or me?” His question made you freeze, the entirety of your body stiffening, and he pressed his advantage. “Huh, so you’re talking to yourself and gettin’ all worked up.” There was a slight shuffle, and the sound of latex gloves snapping followed straight away. “You’re gonna make me ask again, aren’t you?”

A heavy sigh sounded, and you felt the rush of air against your shoulder, above the freshly done tattoo. The room was filled with a silence that grew and grew, expanding to encompass your whole being to make it feel like an ornate pane of glass soon to shatter from an unseen pressure.

“Miss Fishie,” Rafayel whispered, his voice so close you could almost taste the words on his tongue. His fingers gripped your chin gently and turned you to finally face him. Through the protection of your closed eyelids, you could imagine his expression of pity, and it only soured the butterflies in your stomach. “I need you to look at me, pretty girl. C’mon.”

Your eyes opened immediately — the fond use of your nickname mixed with the praise made a whole new heat settle in the pit of your stomach, and the butterflies bloomed through the murky depths to flutter once more.

Rafayel looked earnest, almost desperate in his need for you to look at him. The way his eyes glimmered and ebbed with the waves outside, amethysts and coral colliding as one again; his mouth slightly agape as he stared back at you. His hand moved from your chin to cup your jaw.

“I–”

“Shh,” he soothed. The pad of his thumb brushed over your cheek, a soothing gesture that only made your heart ache more. “Why’re you gettin’ all scared, baby? I didn’t even get to reply—you shut me out like a clam, or an oyster, take your pick.”

Baby.

Never before had that word been said between you, and you blinked fast in shock. The flush of heat deepened on your chest and neck while it spread to your ears.

“But you’re– You don’t–” The stuttered reply was silenced by his arched brow. Each of his movements were sharp in clarity, and if you hadn’t have felt so poised to run, you would have admired the way his tattoos and piercings only made him more beautiful in the moment.

A small, amused smile played at the corner of his lips, and the tip of his tongue darted out to wet the pink skin. “My cute kitty can truly be so damned stupid sometimes, y’know.”

“Hey–!”

“Do you see me backing down?” Rafayel pressed, his brows suddenly furrowing and casting his eyes into shadowed depths. “Do you see me runnin’ away from you right now?”

You hesitated, and in your telling silence, you realised something. The feeling of it crashed over your whole body like a tsunami wave — far more intense than you ever felt before. “...No.”

“No,” he repeated, and he moved closer. The tip of his nose brushed yours. “I think you have your answer then, baby girl.”

“Hmph–” Any reply to him you could have mustered was utterly banished from your mind at the feel of his lips on yours. It was tender and soft; the warmth he held consumed you whole.

Slowly, he pulled away and rested his forehead on yours, his breath fanning over your parted lips while a smirk tugged at the corner of his. “Is that enough to show you just how much I want you; how long I’ve waited for this?”

“You knew!” you burst out, staring at him with wide eyes. “How–?!”

Rafayel chuckled quietly. “It’s Reddie’s fault.” The rise of his shoulders in an indifferent shrug obscured the light for a second. “He’s the one hidin’ my secrets.”

“You– You’re blaming a fish–! Oh my god.”

You surged forwards and captured his lips again, the leather under your legs scuffed with the sudden movement. Rafayel grunted with the force of your embrace, and he kissed back fervently, one hand on your waist while the other rested on your cheek.

The soft, feathered feel of Rafayel’s hair tickled the pads of your fingers, and you wove them upwards, revelling in the shuddered breath that hitched his chest. Your tongues met in a brief dance, and you tugged his head back lightly — more tresses fell loose from the updo to cover the ways your fingers entangled to your anchor.

“Shit, kitty,” Rafayel huffed, his lips only far enough away to draw breath. “If I had known you felt like this…”

“What, you would have said something sooner and put us both out of our yearning, heartfelt misery?”

Pink and purple danced with mirth, and he kissed the tip of your nose. “Damn right I would have.”

“I guess we’re both pretty dumb, huh?” you asked quietly, holding his face in your hands.

Rafayel winked, the corner of his mouth quirked up in a playful smirk. “Yeah, I’d say so, but you’re still the cute one.”

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 ── Half-Baked Edition Bingo (@fandom-free-bingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Confession • N2 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Making The Other Laugh • G5 ── MASTERLIST ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Brushing Their Hair • B3 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Desperate KIss • I1 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "Please." • N5 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Licking Lips • G5 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Anxiety • O3 ── MASTERLIST ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Arms Crossed • I2 ── MASTERLIST ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "I'm Here." • I2 ── MASTERLIST ── Gingerbread Edition Bingo (@fandom-free-bingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Tattoos • B4 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Pinned Down • N3 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Finally Kissing Them • G3 ── MASTERLIST ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Dreams Really Do Come True • I2 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Can't Stop Smiling • N5 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Admitting a Crush • G2 ── MASTERLIST ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "Don't Ignore Me." • B1 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "Look At Me." • I2 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Soulmate is Best Friend • N2 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Piercing • ALT ── MASTERLIST ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Coming Back For Another KIss • O2 ── MASTERLIST ── Medical Edition Bingo (@fandom-free-bingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "I Love You." / "So You Should." • I5 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "Are You Talking To Me?" • O4 ── MASTERLIST ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "What Is It?" ── MASTERLIST ── Tolkien Edition Bingo (@fandom-free-bingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Forehead Kisses • B1 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "Will You Let Me Kiss You?" • O2 ── MASTERLIST ── Types of Love Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "now that I have known how it is to be with you, I can't go back." • B2 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ they complete one another • B3 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "that was surely something..." • I3 ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ feeling butterflies in their stomach • O5 ── MASTERLIST ── Language of Flowers Bingo (@seasonaldelightsbingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ "look at me, it's alright." ── MASTERLIST ── Beginnings Bingo (@sweetspicybingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ first time • ALT ── MASTERLIST ── Eclipsing Bingo (@eclipsingbingo) ⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄ Paralysed By Fear • O3 ── MASTERLIST

#lads #love and deepspace #l&ds rafayel #lads rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel l&ds #rafayel lads #l&ds x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #rafayel x reader #rafayel fluff #l&ds fluff #lads fluff #love and deepspace fluff

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iridescentmirrorsgenshin · 4 months ago

Note

Kaveh is like this close to committing a sin with Mehrak, like he's playing a really dangerous game. It's just a matter of time Mehrak gets even more sentient when it's already this far. I know Kaveh keeps it in check, but man... I hope they'll talk about this one day. Either that or Kaveh will always brush it off, as if he didn't get some ancient core to build it??? Also, I always love your thoughts, thanks for loving these two so much!

hiya! thank you for your ask! i'm so glad you enjoy my posts :") <3 Mehrak’s existence is so ??? funny to me. we have tighnari’s story quest detailing the akademiya’s ban on research into mechanical lifeforms, directly alongside kaveh building his own mechanical lifeform and parading it around, sending it on solo coffee retrieving missions whilst everyone in sumeru looks on smiling <3

Mehrak’s legality hasn’t been mentioned at all in-game as of now, and as it’s been used consistently, both in kaveh’s hangout, a parade of providence, and now nahida’s birthday event, with not one mention of legality or potential trespasses, makes it seem that that’s how things will stay - especially since Cyno has met/is aware of mehrak’s existence during the battle scene during a parade of providence (then again, cyno did meet the wanderer during this event, and yet in nahida’s birthday event it seems he’s only HEARD of the wanderer through sethos??) but even then, since Cyno trusts Tighnari with karkata’s continued existence, it’s likely not a stretch to say that to Cyno, Kaveh can be trusted with Mehrak’s existence (it’s all very iffy)

Mehrak’s existence, overall, has had little focus other than its usage in battle, its official introduction in a parade of providence, where kaveh stipulates it has low intelligence, and was built to assist him, as well as being incapable of talking back and giving him ‘attitude’ (implicitly comparing mehrak to alhaitham), and in kaveh’s hangout when he works on designing a building. It’s only in recent events, such as cyno’s second story quest, and now in nahida’s birthday event, that mehrak has gotten more mentions, and now a spotlight, which is all in relation to coffee, tying back to alhaitham and kaveh’s improved relationship (the coffee analysis will be in the updated essay finally!!). as of right now, overall, mehrak doesn’t appear to be a major focus

It might be strange for the game to mention now that mehrak has been an illegal creation all this time, unless it’s a significant plot point that has to be resolved, but if mehrak is further explored, like in the temple of silence for example (hoyoverse I am once again asking), then perhaps this collective ignoring of a crime occurring will be explained away, if mentioned at all? It’s interesting that tighnari says it might be possible that this ban is reversed in the future, but as for whether that will actually happen, and the implications of this, aren’t clear

Mehrak’s accepted existence in general poses so many questions. I’m interested in the specifics of the ban, like does it depend on the autonomy of the machine in question? Abattouy aimed to make Karkata essentially human, capable of individual thought, processing, emotion, and conversation, which definitively broaches on the intersection of mechanical and biological life which caused the Akademiya to ban this type of research in the first place. So if a machine is able to act on its own, irrespective of human interference, then this is what the akademiya would want to prevent

In mehrak’s case, it’s unclear as to what its limits are, but from what has been shown so far, it seems that mehrak can only act on kaveh’s commands and when held in battle – it’s uncertain rn whether mehrak can act independently of this, but as kaveh invented it to only assist in certain matters, it’s doubtful. But then again, we don’t have a great scope of whether it can experience emotions, as it has shown signs of being distressed in a parade of providence when kaveh states that it can’t talk back, and when being scolded by kaveh in nahida’s birthday event

if mehrak has limited intelligence, it's interesting to compare mehrak with karkata. abattouy was attempting to make karkata understand human language, and be able to respond in order to have conversation, which was proved impossible, whereas although mehrak only speaks in beeps, kaveh is shown to have a thorough understanding of what it’s saying? Mehrak can be programmed to recognise people’s voices, but seemingly also language, as mehrak can obey spoken command, which is what abattouy tried to accomplish but was unable to with modern technology.

Mehrak, on the other hand, understands kaveh’s basic requests – which is made even funnier in kaveh’s old sketchbook, where he says that more than anything he really wants mehrak to understand what he’s saying. he got his wish but at what cost???

Mehrak being made from ancient technology, belonging to that of king deshret’s civilisation, offers many interesting paths that could be explored in future events, as besides the primal constructs roaming around, the puzzles in the desert, and now the temple of silence, no technology really exists from that time. Someone commented that mehrak’s presence in nahida’s birthday event, in conjunction with the event being based around ancient technology with the wedjat eye, could be highlighting mehrak’s irregularity in modern day sumeru – potentially foreshadowing for a future event that could further expand upon mehrak? If this is the case, I am all for it, there are so many questions concerning kaveh’s little light <3

#haikaveh #kavetham #alhaitham #kaveh #genshin impact #in general my head is so empty when it comes to mehrak so thank you for giving me a chance to explore this #there's this contrast of ancient technology and modern technology that is interesting to me as well #since ancient technology has already achieved low intelligence life (seemingly) without cruel experiments or danger that comes with #modern attempts of creating artificial life and is why the akademiya banned this research direction #ancient technology exists separately to modern regulations so in that case would there be a distinction in the ban between ancient #technology and modern technology? i feel the answer is no but also mehrak should legally be dismantled so i'm not sure what is happening #maybe the next sumeru event will be jailbreaking kaveh and mehrak

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dingodad · 6 months ago

Text

Grazigazi society is largely maintained by the ERGATES, or worker-class, individual members of which, called GATERS - such as the WATERGATERS who ensure the island nation's access to freshwater - carry out all the functions necessary to keep any society operational.

The island of Grazigaki's isolated locale, however, comes with unique challenges peculiar to their sea-girt circumstances, which are handled by the race's two specialised organisational classes: POLIS, the political machine, and the GAMOS, or institution of marriage.

> Examine the Gamos.

One major concern for the geographically-constrained Grazigazi is that of maintaining genetic diversity, and it is for the purpose of preventing inbreeding that the Gamos was established. Members of the Gamos class are called GAMERS, and each fills one of two primary rules; the breeding gyne, or GAMERGIRL, and the Gamergirl's mated partners, called GAMERGATERS.

Because a gyne - WITHOUT GOING INTO TOO MUCH DETAIL - is capable of gestating the offspring of multiple mates at a single time, gamergaters outnumber gamergirls by a significant margin. But with this comes the risk of a genetic bottleneck, wherein too many of the next generation are mared by a single gyne, and therefore genetically incompatible with each other.

As such it is the role of the Gamos to establish a strict programme for the proliferation of the Grazigazi race. From each generation the Gamos assembles a caucus of gamergirls who are as genetically distinct from each other as possible, and for each gamergirl a retinue of gamergaters who are HIGHLY GENETICALLY DISTINCT FROM THEIR GAMERGIRL but CLOSELY GENETICALLY SIMILAR TO EACH OTHER - usually gaters who are related, if not familially then on a clan or tribal level.

Through this process, it is assured to within an acceptable level of confidence that individuals who are related are visually similar to each other and individuals who do not share ancestors are easily distinguishable, allowing for the process to be straightforwardly repeated generation after generation.

> Examine fruit quadrants.

"The problem is that when the subject of Grazigazi romance is broached, our overly obsessive troll intellects instantly assume the most ingratiating posture of admiration imaginable. In fact, so conditioned is our own understanding of romance that we cannot help but refer to them as quadrants, when in fact they are not quadrants at all! They are referred to as drupes." -Troll Charles Darwin

Because couplings - or rather, grouplings - or rather, DROUPLINGS - between Grazigazi are established by social order rather than through interpersonal reciprocity, each individual drupe sits somewhere on a sliding scale of GAMOS-FEEL from RAW to RIPE. A drupe's Gamos-feel can be determined by a variety of interacting factors - including but not limited to GRAPHICAL ATTRACTION, GAMOS-PLAY or its intersection with the LEWDONARRATIVE - but because it has no bearing on the reproductive process and pertains only to the interpersonal aspects of each relationship, it is not considered significant to the purview of the Gamos.

In fact, a mixture of raw and ripe drupes among the drouplings is often considered evidence of the Gamos working healthily and as intended, with raw drupes keeping the caucus of gamergirls satisfied and ripe drupes demonstrating the necessary prioritisation of genetic diversity over personal interests.

> Examine branches.

The Gamos is not, however, completely without social considerations. While similarity in genetics is the Gamos' primary criterion, it is possible for a gamergater to initiate a gater from outside the genetic group into the Gamos if the two genetically-unalike gaters are considered to instead be SOULS-ALIKE.

Beyond the fact that the two Grazigazi are considered to be similar to each other in spirit, the exact nature of each souls-alike relationship varies widely from droupling to droupling. It is common, for example, for two glorygaters to discover they are souls-alike in the heat of battle - in addition to the sprinkle of genetic spice this contributes to the Gamos, the establishment of such a drouple provides an official avenue for two families or clans to formalise bonds forged unofficially in wartime.

According to Grazigazi belief, the ideal souls-alike droupling is said to be JUST LIKE DARK SOULS. But if anyone ever truly knew what 'dark souls' actually were, this knowledge has long since been lost to the sands of time.

> Examine the Polis.

Efficiency of reproduction isn't the only issue pressing to a society so densely packed into a single small landmass, though - any form of widespread civil unrest could be potentially devastating to the agrarian nation. For this reason the Polis exists to maintain social cohesion across Grazigaki, and to this end works to include where possible all of the island's tribes, clans and social groups in all of the nation's important political matters.

While the inclusion of only select genetic groups and the incidence of ripe Gamos-feel among procreational drouplings are considered harmless side-effects to the reproductive process, if left unchecked these phenomena can easily lead to larger forms of societal exclusion and disharmony. Thus it is the Polis' job, among other projects, to remedy these problems, even counter to the stated aims of their counterparts in the Gamos.

As such, Grazigazi reproduction is in reality a complex and neverending game, with political interests on one side seeking to secure harmony and unity through the encouragement of raw Gamos-feel, and on the other side gametical concerns represented by gamergaters whose primary aim is always to KEEP POLITICS OUT OF GAMOS.

#long post #gracilia #homestuck fanspecies

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strawberryblue-blog · 2 years ago

Text

Baby blue love —Mason Mount

warning: none

words: +2.5k

summary: being there for Mason at his most difficult time

#sexynote: English is not my first language, maybe there are mistakes.

An exhausted sigh escaped the young man's lips as you walked through the house carrying the laundry basket. From behind you saw his defeated back as his hands covered his face in disappointment.

"Is everything okay?" you asked putting the clothes in the washing machine. Mason sighed again.

"Mason" you called out to him when he didn't respond. From his spot, Mason turned his face slightly to look at you.

His eyes were glazed over and his smile drooped.

He had been like this for a few days, depressed and sad about his departure from the club. But even though you tried to cheer him up, Mason ended up ignoring you and regretting his decisions.

"Mason..." you repeated again as you sat down next to him, your hand stroking his back gently.

"Everyone hates me" he whispered in anguish.

In front of his eyes was his instagram profile, precisely the last video he had posted only a day ago.

"It's not true" you denied waving your hand to comfort him.

"Yes they do, just watch what they say" he noted. A gasp came out of his mouth, he was frustrated, sad and disappointed. "Not even the official confirmation came out and everyone already knows, they hate me."

Yes, it was hard what he was going through and you understood it perfectly.

At least a month ago the rumor that Mason would be leaving Chelsea had been much talked about by fans of the club or those close to it, especially because there was a supposed proposal from Manchester United.

After 18 years at the club of his beginnings, Mason Mount would no longer be a player in blue and it was driving him crazy.

"Stop that" you grumbled when he kept scrolling down the publication, taking his phone out of his hands to turn it off. Your boyfriend snorted stretching his body out on the couch.

Raw silence broached them. Mason wasn't saying a word from that point on and you were leaving him, as you didn't want to pressure him to talk let alone make him feel like he had to explain himself.

"You hate me, don't you?" he asked dejectedly. The question caught you off guard for a moment.

"No," you muttered. "Why would I, Mason?"

"Because I ruined everything."

"That's not true," you denied. You knew perfectly well what this conversation was coming to and you were ready to face it. "For wanting to move on?" you asked. "For wanting to have another chance?"

He lifted his shoulders expressionlessly. You weren't going to lie, the news that Mason would be leaving had affected you more than you thought it would. You had always been a Chelsea fan, thanks to your father, a huge Blues fan. And on one of your many visits to the stadium, you had met Mason at Stamford Bridge when you had volunteered to work one afternoon. The thought of not going to support him at the stadium anymore, not seeing him celebrate with his teammates and family, seeing him ready to play before every game. Nostalgia ran through your mind as you thought of him and wanted to support him every step of the way.

"It's okay, honey" you took him in your arms. Mason sobbed as he felt your warm embrace. "You haven't done anything wrong" you said.

"I've been an idiot these days, I don't understand how you're still here" he said. You could feel the pain in his body, in his voice, in his eyes, in his mood.

Mason had always been a laughing boy, who laughed at everything and cheered everyone up in the worst moments but now he was a kid who had to make an important decision that would be a big step for his career. For his future. And of course you would accompany him, you would be by his side no matter what his decision was.

"Do you think it's okay what I'm doing?" he questioned taking your hands. You had not had this conversation since it had all started, as Mason was a bit shocked and somewhat distant.

"It is. It's the right thing to do because you deserve it" you muttered. "You deserve a team that will take advantage of your talent, respect you and help you grow. You deserve to play in the big leagues and succeed" you said sincerely.

And it hurt. It hurt to see your great love leave his lifelong team, the team that saw him grow and succeed. It hurt to know that he would no longer wear the blue jersey and that you would not go to the game with his jersey to cheer him on. But more than anyone else in the world you wanted Mason to move on and succeed because you knew he was a great player. Young and talented.

His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you close to him to place a soft kiss on your lips. Mason wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you to his chest.

He knew how much you supported him no matter what. Even though he was going to the opposing team or moving out of town. Because you had always supported him since you had known each other, in his bad times and good times, when he needed you and when you were there for him.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, baby" he whispered nuzzling his nose with yours tenderly.

"I love you, Mason."

"Enough to wear a red t-shirt with my name on it?" he asked teasingly.

"No!" you squealed laughing. "You know i hate the color red."

Mason laughed nodding.

"But you don't hate it when I'm wearing it, do you?" he teased again with an amused expression. His lips touched yours delicately as a gasp escaped them as you felt Mason's hands take you from your waist until you sat on his lap.

"Nothing will ever change the love I feel for you, ever since the day I saw you in the rain at Stamford Bridge" he whispered through his smile. "From that day I knew I would love you forever, my baby blue love."

I'm late i know but I'm still not over Mason being gone 😭😭 I miss him so much 💔

#mason mount imagine #football imagines #football one shot #chelsea football club #mason mount x you #mason mount x reader #manchester united #mason mount #imagine #strawberryblue blog

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her-devils-advocate · 6 months ago

Text

Sing me to sleep, I don't want to wake up on my own anymore

pairings: Femshep x Garrus

genre: fluff, comfort

summary: Raven Shepard is struggling to sleep with the nightmares plaguing her mind. Too nervous to head to Garrus for comfort after their discussion about reach and flexibility, she goes to spend time with Joker. Unaware that he is more than willing to play the wingman for them while they tiptoe around their feelings for one another.

Set during ME2

word count: 4,507

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59922712

The quiet padding of bare feet on the cold metallic floor guides her as Shepard floats around the Normandy, feeling more like a ghost than a human. All things considered, she probably looks closer to one as well.

It is late into the ship's night cycle, granting her peace as she stalks the near-empty mess hall, most of the crew have since retired for the night. Those who remain simply greet her with a respectful salute, being far too tired for small talk themselves. She prefers it at this hour, as it carries less risk of being questioned over why she's not taking the chance to sleep. She doesn’t want to have to come up with a plausible lie right now, nor does she want to open that can of worms in front of some poor crew member.

Shepard softly pads over to the coffee machine, feeling her oversized Alliance T-shirt rising along her thighs to reveal her shorts as she lifts herself to grab a mug. The t-shirt had been gratefully borrowed from Joker to avoid being branded by Cerberus during the hours she should be using to relax. Not that she puts those hours to much use, instead filling the gap between filing reports with copious amounts of coffee.

Just as she gets ready to prepare a new cup, the hot water steaming from the kettle, a smooth voice cuts through the silence and causes her to jolt in surprise.

"Dr Chakwas has recently asked me to alert her if you consume any caffeine during the hours you should be asleep, Commander." EDI’s metallic voice is gentle, yet Shepard can pick up on the subtle threat and she tries to conceal the shudder that rips through her. She doesn’t want to concern Karin, not with the already lengthy list of topics the other woman has been trying to broach with her as it is.

With a deep sigh, Shepard abandons the empty mug with a small wave of her hand, dismissing the AI's concerns as she continues to idly wander around the ship, already looking for more reasons to stay awake. It's not like she wants to forgo sleep every night, especially not when she has a somewhat new team to take care of, but she can't shake the cold feeling of nothingness that creeps up on her whenever she dares to close her eyes. Dying had left its mark on her. She can still feel its icy fingers gripping around her throat and on a particularly bad night, she can see the torn remains of her original ship when her eyes are closed.

Tonight had been one of those bad nights. She hadn’t been alone in her dreams however, this time her mind decided to make the event even worse than it already was. Instead, the nightmare featured Garrus alongside her. The two of them drifted silently towards Alchera while their oxygen supply quickly depleted. Even within the safety of the waking world, Shepard can still hear the muffled gasps that escaped him before she was left floating in silence, soon to follow. For the first time in her life, she is thankful that Garrus wasn’t by her side on that day. She’s not sure she could cope coming back to life, only to find out that he hadn’t been extended the same privilege.

For a brief moment, her eyes flicker over to the doors of the main battery, but she quickly shakes the thought from her mind. It would be selfish of her to risk waking Garrus just because she's uncomfortable in her own skin after the sixth nightmare of the week. She had already confirmed his vital signs with EDI upon awakening, letting the knowledge that he’s safe bring a small comfort to her pounding heart. Besides, the last thing she wants to do is to cause worry and potentially ruin the delicate start of whatever it is that's growing between them.

The flirting between the pair has since grown in frequency, moving from friendly banter into something more heated, and more meaningful. But she doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable, especially not with the weight of her position. She lets out a small huff of laughter, letting her head fall back against the ship's cool interior. If anyone could see past her calm and collected mask, it would be Garrus.

Shoving the desire for his comfort deep into the back of her heart, she lets her body carry her through the ship, occasionally swaying from the exhaustion.

She eventually finds herself in the cockpit, the warm orange interfaces glowing within the dim space. Joker turns to greet her and whatever jest he has prepared on the tip of his tongue dies instantly when he glances her way. He watches with badly concealed concern as she drags herself to the co-pilot seat and all but throws herself into it, bringing her knees up against her chest while she curls into herself with a small groan.

“EDI, this conversation is classified and unrelated to Cerberus. So shoo for a moment and stop listening, or just pretend that you aren’t here and delete any logs that are being made, I don’t know. Just… shoo.” Joker’s tone is light, yet his voice is tinted with worry.

“Very well, Mr Moreau,” EDI announces before her blue hologram dies down, leaving the duo in silence.

“You know, I would make a joke about not realising how easy it would be to get some peace up here, but I feel like that trick was a one-time use.” He adds flippantly. Shepard gives him a small chuckle in response and shifts to rest her cheek against her knees, now facing him and for the first time since their reunion, he properly takes her in with a slight frown.

“You didn’t need to send her away,” Shepard says slowly, feeling a small amount of pity for the AI.

He doesn’t bother to reply, instead, he continues his inspection. She can feel his eyes on her and she doesn’t want to imagine how much of a mess she must look like. She’s visibly exhausted, that much she knows is obvious, she’s also aware that her usually expressive eyes have since lost their gleam, leaving her much less lively. Raven knows what's coming, so before he can release an onslaught of bad jokes to distract her from her worries, she stops him in his tracks.

“It wasn’t your fault, Jeff. I know you’ve been carrying that blame for years now, I also know better than anyone that words alone won’t change a damn thing. But it was my choice and I don’t regret it.” Her voice is low and gentle as she completely drops the commander mask within the comfort of the cockpit. Joker clenches his fists, his nails digging into the flesh of his palm while he tries to argue, but no words dare to come out. The silence hangs between them for a moment before she continues, “Besides, how can you blame yourself for a death when the dead person is sitting here right now, alright and alive?”

She flashes him an awkward smile and she can tell he knows the angle she’s playing, using his own form of humour to diffuse the situation. A ticket out in case he’s not willing to let himself become vulnerable while he’s still expected to fly the ship.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks, Shep. Did you come all this way to give me a midnight pep talk or are you serious about taking up that co-pilot seat? Cause no offence, I trust EDI more than you with that task.”

“Ouch. That hurts, Joker,” She says lightly, throwing her legs over the arm of the chair as she gets comfortable, ignoring the way he carefully tries to swat them off, “It’s my ship, so this is technically my chair as well. I can sit here if I want to. You didn’t complain when I came to hang out with you on the SR-1.”

“Yeah well, back then you would sneak me a coffee. You didn’t bring the peace offering this time.” He rolls his eyes at the bright laugh he lures out of her.

“I was about to make some coffee, but EDI would have snitched on me to Chakwas.” Joker doesn’t need to look at her to know that she’s pouting, shooting a playful glare to the AI who shouldn’t be listening.

“Probably because she knew you would have made two cups for yourself and then one for me. Speaking of… As much as I enjoy you gracing me with your presence, shouldn’t you be sleeping?” He doesn’t miss the way she freezes up, suddenly finding the distant stars more interesting than their current conversation, “Shep- Raven, when was the last time you slept?”

Her scoff cuts through the dull hum of the engines as she grows more frustrated by the question. Frantically, she runs her hand through the silky black hair that has since been released from its usual braid. She takes a moment to control her breathing and smothers the spark of annoyance before she tries to speak.

“I can’t.”

He shrugs in response as he turns back to focus on flying the Normandy back to the Citadel to re-stock. She relaxes further into the chair, making the most of the soft leather while watching the stars twinkle around her. They are different here compared to the view from her cabin, they don’t seem to mock her down here. Her quiet musings are interrupted by Joker dramatically clearing his throat, she raises an eyebrow, urging him to get on with it.

“Well, I was just thinking,” he starts before being instantly interrupted.

“Oh no.” She deadpans.

“First of all, rude. Second of all, why did you come to me of all people?”

“What do you mean? I’ve known you since before the original Normandy, you’re like my brother by now, Joker.” She stares at him incredulously before being overtaken by a small yawn.

“That’s oddly sweet of you, sis, but I already knew that and it’s also not what I meant,” a small smirk appears on his face as he continues to stare straight ahead, “I’m just surprised you didn’t go to Garrus, that’s all. Considering you seem to take him everywhere, talk to him about everything, and funnily enough, you speak about him all the time.”

“Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration,” she mutters and bites the inside of her lip in thought. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but she wasn’t about to let him know that. Not that she needed to in the slightest. “I didn’t want to interrupt him, that’s all.”

“Ah, so you came to pester the one flying us through space at an unholy hour. Thank you, Commander!” Joker states cheerfully, ignoring the glare he can feel emanating from his right. He glances over at her again before they can settle into an easy silence, “Am I ever going to get that t-shirt back, by the way?”

“Nope.” She punctuates her point by tilting her head, her cheek now resting against the back of the soft chair as she stares at the flicking displays around her. The fluorescent interface captivates her and she finds her eyelids beginning to grow heavy.

As a comforting peace descends over the pair, she can’t help herself from thinking about Garrus once more. They had flirted a lot, a new and dangerous game of chicken where they were both more than happy to lose. Sure, she has a lot to say about the man to any who would listen, but his skills with his rifle are impeccable. No one could blame her for boasting about her squad, not when it has saved her life more than once. If she boasted about one over the other… well, maybe there was more truth to Joker’s words than she realised. She just hopes no one else has caught on enough to inspect too closely. The last thing she needs is a potential audience to witness her fumbling through her words and emotions. Doing it in front of him is daunting enough already.

Shepard’s bones feel heavy as the nauseating wave of built-up exhaustion washes over her, demanding her eyes to flutter shut despite her battles against it.

“I think I really like him, Joker…More than…” She confesses before succumbing to sleep, leaving the pilot in stunned silence.

Joker stares at her momentarily before giving a small eye-roll, spinning his chair to the side to watch over her.

“Yeah, kinda knew that already, Ravs…Glad you’re finally catching up. Hey EDI, can you get Garrus up here?” He waits for a moment, expecting the blue glow of her display to flicker to life, only to be met with nothing. “Seriously, EDI? You can stop pretending to not listen now and go tell Garrus to get his spiky butt up here.” “Understood, you should have started with that.” If she possessed a mouth, Joker would be certain she was smirking.

The steady hum of machinery floats around the main battery, grounding Garrus as he stands before the Thanix Canon, doing his best to ignore the aching of his limbs. He taps away at its amber screen, improving its firing algorithms and squeezing out the extra 0.23% he has been working towards all evening. He quickly flicks his eyes towards the time displayed on his visor, the vision becoming blurry as he confirms his suspicions with only a small amount of regret: he’s been working late into his off-duty hours again.

“If Shepard were to find out, she’d have a small speech about how I should look after myself more already prepared…” He mutters to himself, his mandibles fluttering out into a small grin.

Despite the weariness that has sunken deep into his bones after days of sacrificing sleep for survival, he’s still unable to keep himself still for more than a few minutes, not when there’s a new ship with even newer weaponry to inspect. Even though it’s been a handful of weeks, a part of him still can’t believe he’s stood within the Normandy yet again. Not after Joker had broken the news to him two horrible years ago and certainly not after attending the funeral of his best friend. Yet she was back, and so were all the complicated feelings he wanted to run from, ones that she always drew out of him the second she hovered into his line of sight.

Feelings that no good turian would act on.

With a deep stretch, he takes solace in the shining walls of the ship, providing an old comfort as a sharp sting travels throughout his injured mandible. He tries to conceal his flinch, not wanting to agitate the healing wound more than he already has done, Spirits knows he doesn’t need that lecture from Dr Chakwas again. Before he has the chance to continue with his work, his six fingers hovering above the console and ready to inch closer towards that 0.25%, a smooth voice cuts through the silence.

“Officer Vakarian, Mr Moreau requests your presence on the bridge.” Her tone leaves very little room for argument as the hologram pops up in his peripheral.

“Right, thanks EDI.” He replies plainly before making sure to save his progress, not wanting something to mess it up and waste his hours of mind-numbing work.

The journey to the cockpit is uneventful as the ship silently floats through space, a skeleton crew working diligently through the night to keep everything running, even with the AI onboard. The rhythmic echo of his shoes against the metallic floor is his only companion as he lets his mind wander. Its destination rarely changes away from Shepard.

The way her black hair, as dark as the void that surrounds them, swings behind her. Her hair always fascinates him whenever he sees her tie parts of it together, her fingers quickly weaving the strands together in a way that makes his head spin. Or how she bites the inside of her cheek, doing her best to hold back a smile whenever something amuses her when in “commander mode”. A part of him aches as he watches her lock more of herself away for the good of the many, leaning towards the icon they expect of her and further away from the human she is. Well, she does whenever they’re not together, he notes with a small amount of smugness.

His mind still comes to a screeching halt when he replays the moment she blatantly revealed her feelings for him as if it were easy, proposing a night together to push their friendship towards unknown territories. Except he knew her well enough by now to know she was just as nervous as he currently is. He could easily spot the nervous scrunch of her nose when she smiled up at him after the proposition. The same scrunch that appeared the day she became a Spectre, or the day he pitifully begged her to consider using the Mako’s breaks before they both got covered in krogan vomit. Her gentle words spoke of blowing off steam and yet her eyes screamed for more, for stability, and he couldn’t deny his own feelings that mirrored hers.

He always was a bad turian, he thinks with a small snort.

It’s not long before he is dragged out of his mind and greeted with the back of the pilot’s chair. He can’t remember the last time found himself in the cockpit. He never normally needed anywhere other than the crew deck, or the hangar unless they were docked. Before he can even announce his presence, the chair quickly spins to reveal Joker, a single finger against his lips while the other points towards the co-pilot's seat.

He cocks his head to the side in confusion before his cerulean eyes trail over to the corner, only to widen at the sight while his mandibles flick out in shocked amusement. Commander Raven Shepard is sprawled out within the wide chair, making the woman look oddly small in contrast. What’s even more shocking is the fact that she’s sleeping, deeply if her position is anything to go by. Her legs are thrown over the armrest in a way Garrus can’t imagine being very comfortable, while a single arm dangles off the side of the chair. Her chin is tucked tightly against her chest and her loose hair has fallen against her face, creating a small barrier to hide her sleeping expression from sight.

“Ah…”

“So you can see why I called you up here,” Joker adds, deepening Garrus’ confusion.

“To witness the fact that she can rest for more than twenty minutes at a time, without finding something else to do instead? Or did you need a witness to confirm that you’re not hallucinating and that she is asleep?”

“No, not that. Well… partially that, but that’s beside the point. Someone needs to take Ravs up to her room. Preferably before she wakes up with her muscle aching in five different places and I somehow get the blame for it.” Joker pauses for a moment, his eyes not once moving away from Garrus. “It’s not like I’m capable of helping her, even if she would let me. Which is why you are here, considering you’re the only one that she would let close enough in this state.”

Garrus opens his mouth to interject with a witty retort, but he struggles to find one. It’s not like he can lie to Joker. Well he could, but the man could also quite easily call him out on his bullshit. He never used to consider the Normandy’s pilot a friend, not back when they were nothing more than working together to hunt Saren down. Things slowly changed between them when they both lost her. One was wrecked with guilt, the knowledge that he had condemned his oldest friend. The other was wrecked with the loss of his only friend, torn from his side too soon.

He finds himself silenced as he stares down at her, completely unable to form a response and for a moment, he wonders if Joker can see the conflict. The deeply hidden fear that he will mess everything up and lose her once more.

“For what it’s worth… You have my seal of approval.” His voice is unnaturally soft and void of all humour. It’s not often that Joker shows his serious side, “You’re good for one another and work well together, you will make a scarily good couple.”

Garrus surprises himself with the relieved laugh that escapes him, only to be silenced by a low, harsh, shushing sound.

“I’m glad that you’re happy and all, but the last thing we need is a groggy biotic getting a rude awakening in my bridge. So if you can escort sleeping beauty back to her cabin before that happens, I would appreciate it.”

With a small roll of his eyes, he gingerly approaches the small corner of the bridge, lowering himself before her. From the new vantage point, he can easily see the cybernetic scars peeking through the shield of hair. They had already started to heal, finally letting the skin hide the harsh orange. A selfish part of him will miss them, even with the knowledge of her insecurity surrounding them. At least with them vanishing, it showed progress when it came to her letting herself relax, one less thing for him to worry about.

He slowly raises his hand and tucks the hair behind her ears. The black strands feel like silk within his fingers and flow like water when a stubborn lock escapes, hellbent on covering her. Garrus keeps his subvocals subdued, aware that Cerberus had given her an advantage in that department, despite the hum of contentment and adoration threatening to claw its way up his throat. Before Joker can open his mouth and ruin his mood, Garrus carefully places one arm under her legs while the other weaves around her back, easily pulling her into his arms. He slowly stands, turning to give the pilot a grateful nod before turning to make the trek back to her cabin.

Garrus takes his time as he enters the spacious cabin. Now that she is in his arms, he is reluctant to put her down. After lugging around a thirty-nine-kilogram sniper for hours on end, she weighs next to nothing in his arms without her usual armour. A small part of him wants to get used to the way her head rests against his cowl, the picture of comfort despite the way her cheek is pressed against his armour.

He glances around the room as he advances deeper into her space, noting the dozens of datapads overtaking her desk before he lowers her onto the large bed. The thick duvet has already been thrown to one side, a clear sign of her previous attempt to rest. After draping it over her, Garrus hesitates, unsure if he is overstepping before a sudden burst of courage guides his hand and tenderly tucks her under the multitude of spare blankets she has collected. He doesn’t miss the way multiple of them cover the leather sofa, nor the pillows that had been taken from her bed accompanying them.

With a satisfied flick of a mandible, he turns to leave before a pale hand quickly shoots out from under the fabric nest, strong yet slender fingers wrapping around his wrist. He slowly turns and is greeted by two grey eyes staring up at him.

“You’re supposed to be asleep,” Garrus accuses, unsure of what else to say. “I didn’t tiptoe up here in heavy armour for you to wake up now.”

She gives a tired chuckle, her eyes crinkling with mirth as she snuggles deeper under the covers. “I could pretend to be asleep if it makes you feel better?” “I would prefer it if you were actually sleeping,” His eyes slowly trail back over to the sofa, “preferably in your bed.”

Shepard gives a noncommittal shrug as she follows his gaze, the remnants of sleep slurring her words. “I don’t wake to see stars over there.”

His eyes shoot up to the window above her bed and a chill creeps across his body. His subvocals share his discomfort and anger on her behalf and for a moment, he forgets that she can now pick up on parts of it. He awkwardly clears his throat, hoping it could contain his emotions. He gives her a strained smile, noticing the way she has begun drawing small, comforting circles into the smooth underarmour covering his wrist with her thumb.

“Well, next time we’re at the Citadel, I’ll find you a nice banner to stick up there instead. What do you want the design to be? Blasto? The Mako flying off the side of a mountain upside down?” He can’t help the joy that flutters in his chest when her laugh reaches him, her hand coming up to cover her face. “Hm, I’ll find something, I’m sure. You should try to rest until then, Shepard.”

She lets out a deep sigh, sinking deeper into the bed before tugging on his wrist. “Would you stay?”

Garrus feels his mind blank, not for the first time in her presence.

“Not like that, I know we said we would wait for…that. It’s just…” She trails off, running a frustrated hand through her already messy hair as she looks for the right words to say. “I feel safe when I’m around you and even though I’ll probably still have a nightmare, it’s less daunting knowing you’re around.”

He watches as her face reddens with the confession, her fingers nervously twitching against his wrist as she waits for him. She averts her eyes, staring past him to watch the fish idly swim around their tank. He gently pries her fingers off him, the disappointment in her eyes sending a knife through his heart.

He takes a step back before unlatching his chestplate. “I need to remove this armour first, I doubt you want cold metal pressed against you all night?”

“I’m sure I’ve slept against worse things during my time in the Alliance,” she mumbles half-heartedly before growing serious again, “thank you, Garrus.”

Garrus gives her a calm smile before he removes the rest of the armour, carefully placing it on one side of the sofa. He then slides under the covers with her, pulling her close to him. Her back is pressed against his chest while his hands rest over her stomach, holding her tight. She shuffles slightly, finding a comfortable spot on her side and he lets out a small hiss as her bare, and cold, foot brushes against his leg. She mumbles out a small apology before she gets lectured on how turians and the cold don’t mix, earning her a small grunt of acknowledgement. With the sounds of his quiet breathing and the steady hum of the fish tank, she finds her eyes growing heavy once more.

#♥. writing #♥. Raven Shepard #Mass Effect #Mass Effect 2 #shakarian #shepard x garrus #femshep #commander shepard #garrus vakarian #garrus x femshep #garrus x shepard #garrus romance #jeff joker moreau

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