#GRANTED the arm thing was a sacrifice

[landgraabbed]

my second campaign in wildermyth is wild. i rolled gen 2 yet again and miram has cut off stephanie's arm already dhsdhsdhfsfd

[spaghettiposts]

Window Crashin’

WandaNat x Spidey!Reader

Summery: Crashing into the wrong window at night proves to be the best mistake you’ve ever made.

Warnings: Very OBLIVIOUS reader, straight up stupid I can’t lie. Gay panics all around. Fluff

Word count: 1.6k

A/n: my first time officially writing for Nat and I think I’d like to continue so expect separate fics of her sometime soon.

Kraven had become an incessant thorn in your side, his relentless rampage ever since he announced “The Grand Hunt” in the heart of Central Park felt like a never-ending nightmare. One that persistently dragged on as the weeks floated by, each day a new form of tinnitus growing in your eardrums at the echoings of his horn. Falling once again into his endless game of cat and mouse.

Or in your case Kraven and Spider–with Kraven playing predator and you, the elusive Spider, trying to lure him away from innocent civilians roaming the streets of New York. 

Which wasn’t as easy as one would imagine, but you made do with what you had, brains over brawns. Clinging onto the hope that eventually, Kraven would grow tired of chasing and resign for the night, with the promise that he’d return. And so the cycle goes on. 

There were other options you could resort to, but those were last resorts, ones you only used if you were certain you couldn’t handle Kraven or in case of an emergency. In all honesty, you’re avoiding involving the Avengers, it’s really the last thing you want this to come to. A couple of broken ribs wasn’t an Avengers level threat.

You could handle Kraven by yourself perfectly fine, and nobody got hurt at the end of the day—except mainly your sleep schedule.

And now, as you swung through the thick chilling air on route to the compound; you were struggling to stay awake, the bruises littered across your body only making it harder to keep swinging. It wasn’t that sleep had ever been your strong suit, but now, it seemed like a distant luxury. The sacrifice of a hero came in many forms, and sleep deprivation was yours. 

Tony had sacrificed half his company in pursuit of a heroic lifestyle, hell, even Steve froze himself to save humanity. If humanity needed you to suffer from fewer hours in bed, then so be it. 

You fought relentlessly to keep your eyes from drooping and it only took the honking of a truck for you to jolt awake, merely missing out on the experience of being rammed by one. 

Shaking your head, you muttered words of encouragement to yourself, living on a prayer of making it back to the compound - in one piece. 

As the familiar building came into view, you let out a breath of relief you didn’t know you were holding. Taking a moment to gather yourself, you swung around towards the left block and homed in on your window, only to face-plant straight into it with a resounding thud.

You groaned against the pavement, pressing your hands on the wall to steady yourself before you could slide off. Silently thanking that radioactive spider for granting you the ability to stick to surfaces as you adjusted yourself, what the fuck?

A miscalculation on your part—or at least you pictured. Pushing yourself back from the wall, your eyebrows crinkled. Huh.

You always left your window open–had one of your teammates closed it off?

Assuming one of the guys must’ve closed it off, you didn’t question much, missing your bed and running on pure exhaustion to really assess the situation seriously. Gripping the sides of the window, you tried to pry from the outside, and after a couple of difficulties; you managed to unlock it, budging it open with a click. 

Finally, home sweet home. 

Your body toppled into the room first before the rest of your body crashed onto the floor, reaching an arm to shut the window behind you. With a sigh of relief, you picked yourself up, stretching your arms above your head, eliciting a satisfying ‘pop’ from your back, feeling all the pent-up tensions of the day leave your body. 

Pressing the button on your chest, making quick work of discarding your suit. You struggled more than you’d like to admit, having to hop on one foot to wiggle your feet out of the padding. 

Amidst your squirming, you failed to notice the crimson warps seeping from your bed, freezing mid-movement as the lights flickered on by themselves, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You screeched, scrambling up to your feet, firmly clutching your uniform in a poor attempt to cover yourself from the two women on your bed, equally startled.

“Y/n…? What are you doing here?” Natasha says after a beat of silence, her eyes furrowing as she lowers her gun and the arm protectively wrapped around her girlfriend. Wanda mirrored her actions and let the red wisps fall before she turned to you disconcertingly.

You shrunk under their gaze, feeling your heart pick up. It was too late to salvage any attempts at running for it, so you turned away, ignoring how affected you felt by their disheveled appearances.

Instead, you focused on why they were inside your room in the first place. Not that you minded having two beautiful women in your bed but at this hour? 

“What are you doing in my room? I just got back, what’s…” Your voice trailed off, slipping on your suit, as you looked towards your dresser…was it always that color? And why was there a photo of Wanda and Natasha on your nightstand? Sure, you were hopelessly in love with the two but never to this extent.

Barely bordering on those lines. 

“Detka…this is our room,” Wanda said slowly, as to not startle you. 

You cursed under your breath, realizing your mistake. “Aw fuck, I must’ve crashed into the wrong—wall-side thing,” you explained messily, picking yourself up for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. 

“Crashed?” Both of the girls shouted and you winced, scooting off awkwardly to the side, feeling even more like an intrusion. 

“Yeah but it’s okay though, that’s nothing compared to Kraven's fists, trust me.” You meant to reassure them, but judging by the worried looks they exchanged, it had the opposite effect. Taking their silence as an opportunity to leave, you stepped back.

“Anyways, sorry for interrupting your night.” You mumbled apologetically, reaching for the window handle. “I’ll see y'all tomorrow— son of a bitch.” You grunted, banging your head against the glass for the second time this night. You were really starting to resent these things.  

And Wanda bit her bottom lip, “Malysh, it’s late and you’re…not doing well, why don’t you stay here tonight?” She suggested softly, her voice coming out as sweet as honey and you almost dropped dead there.

“Here?” You blurted out, feeling a mixture of surprise and uncertainty. “Like, with you and Nat?”

Natasha and Wanda shared an amused look, before nodding in unison. 

Your face crinkled, not really understanding what the looks were for but you assumed it was all in your head. Sparing one last glance at the two, you confirmed this was okay, searching for even the smallest bits of hesitancy or discomfort only to find nothing but welcoming smiles. 

With a small nod, barely audible, you murmured a hesitant “alright,” as you settled into the chair beside their bed, placing your feet on the small wooly ottoman.

Had your eyes been open, you might’ve noticed the way their faces dropped in disappointment. After months of obvious pining, not-so-subtle flirting thrown your way, you were choosing to sleep…not with them but on a chair.

A brief silence lingered, and you shifted in your seat. Even with your eyes closed, you could feel their eyes piercing and you were starting to sweat.

“Sorry,” You mumble, heat rising up your neck in embarrassment as you removed your feet off the ottoman, fearing you had overstepped. Still, their gazes remained unwavering and you rubbed your arm unsurely, “Is the chair off–limits too? I can take the floor if that’s better.”

“Dorogoy, we’re inviting you into our bed,” Natasha chuckles disbelievingly, fingers tracing the covers as to tempt you with the invitation. 

“Mhmm, yeah no. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” You shook your head, stumbling over your words. “I don’t do well in confined spaces with pretty women, I mean— no wait you are, both are super pretty but that’s not—“ 

Thankfully, Wanda interjected before you could embarrass yourself further with a giggle. You swore your stomach flipped. “Cute, but won’t you get cold?” She suggested, Natasha nodding and lifting the covers, adding, “It’s much warmer over here.”

Again, you waved them off and they were starting to get fed up with your excuses. “Oh nah! My suit has thermal heating installed, pretty cool right? Tony helped me insulate it–”

“Y/n, just get in the bed.”

Before you could protest further, you felt those warm red tendrils wrap around you, coaxing you into their bed, and you couldn’t even remember why you were fighting this in the first place when their arms wrapped around you. Not when their sheets were so warm, and their bodies warmer. 

Resistance be damned, as Natasha's hand ran gently through your hair, you relaxed into it, and both girls smiled. This was how things needed to be, always. 

Still, your heart was beyond nervous to even enjoy the moment but they were pushing at your shoulders to tuck you in further, getting settled themselves. They tangled their limbs with your own and it was official; there was definitely no escaping this. 

Pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, Wanda murmured a couple of words and you felt more comfortable clothes encase you. Natasha pressed a tender kiss to the shell of your ear before bidding you a good night.

You repeat her words back and they tighten their grip, closing their eyes. 

With exhaustion finally catching up to you, your eyes drooped helplessly again, fluttering shut, bones begging for sleep, and you finally surrendered to its embrace. Allowing yourself a moment of rest with the two people you treasure most in the world. 

And suddenly, crashing into windows didn’t seem so bad after all.

[filurig]

a new little spingle... info about him under the cut

a disciple of glaris in sartrill's priesthood, despite his holy position - isn't too enthusiastic about it. truthfully, he was forced into his current study by his parents as he was born as a "curlwing". "curlwings" in sartrillan culture are considered the closest to "true" children of glaris, having been born with her "blessing" of flightlessness and therefore are believed to be more strongly attuned to her, so the natural course for any young curlwing is to enter priesthood training at an early age. despite that, however, karu never excelled in his priestly studies - not that he was necessarily bad or couldn't carry out the duties he were assigned, but his superiors keep worrying that he doesn't put enough heart in it, so he has never really risen considerably in the ranks of the priesthood.

somewhat lethargic, karu accepted his "fate" - while he has faith, he also longs for being able to have his own life as life in the priesthood is relatively restricted to the holy grounds and the districts in sartill closest to it. there is a small, adventurous spirit inside of him that wishes to see more of the world, having never left sartrill in his entire life, but at this point he's sort of given up on it. he is somewhat ruled over by his fear of sticking out and not conforming and betraying the expectations of the priesthood, his family and Glaris herself.

karu can come off as quite cold and tired as he feels sort of detached from the people and circumstances around him. when brought out of his shell, however, he brightens up considerably - but can be a bit cynical still. he isn't actually as serious as he comes across as, and actually enjoys being around people who don't take things too seriously either. he tries to self-correct though and therefore that part of him is rarely seen by anyone. because of his alienation from other harpies, partly due to his upbringing and role, he's a bit socially inept, but has learned to deal with that by hiding behind his stoic and unconcerned facade. a bit of a double edged sword because it only reinforces the idea people have of him around him as this "serious, no-fun wholly dedicated priest disciple who doesn't want to mingle with the commoners"

while he wishes he had more freedom to do stuff, karu does enjoy some parts of his priestly duties - most especially the craftsmanship he gets to engage in. sartrillan priests will actually be responsible for most of the settlement's craftsmanship especially ones concerning fabric and clothing, but also other crafts (former are just the biggest categories)

flightlessness is relevant in some satrtillan mythology and in the biggest story (the one involving glaris) is a noteworthy sacrifice some crakam made to grant them the ability to hide from humans using illusory magic. that ofc creates a sort of weird relationship with crakam society and crakam born with flightless conditions. in sartrill its especially pronounced as glaris is the settlement's "patron deity" and while care is taken to accomodate to the flightless, there is also a social schism between them and other crakam bcs of their connotations and also the fact that most flightless crakam are "strongly encouraged" and often forced to live in the priesthood.

craftsmanship is strongly associated with holiness/the priesthood in sartrill because the body alterations flighted harpies undergo to render themselves flightless permanently actually increases arm flexibility a little, and historically being unable to fly it was a natural direction for many priests to head in to contribute to the community which might be why it became such a strong practice

there are several different conditions that can make a harpy not be flighted - curlfeather is one of them. any condition which does such is treated similarly - it doesn't really matter which, but curlfeather is probably the most common/well known one.

[tojisun]

it takes a rampage (to be a dad)

!! fluff & angst; simon’s pov; simon’s insecurities; vague descriptions of violence; repeating allusions to past child abuse; parenthood; f!reader // wc: 3.5k // dividers by @/plutism!

a spinoff of the apple that rolled over to the tree

simon’s not a good man, but he concedes that there are just certain circumstances where you have to be the good man. where you have to bleed and burn through, and sacrifice a shit ton because that’s what being good is.

case in point: the child, who couldn’t be any more than two, bundled in his arms as the squad tries to come down from the adrenaline after a dangerously high-tension exfil.

“where,” johnny pauses, breathing deeply, quick fingers unlatching any tight strapping that’s making it difficult to gulp in air. “where ye dumpin’ the brat?”

it’s callously said, but they all know johnny’s meant it in a place of worry—which is founded, by all accounts, because the base is a terrible place to care for a two year old toddler. no one’s even equipped to deal with the boy, not with the mission still on its last legs; granted, the winding dregs would only require their captain, maybe garrick for backup, to finish but nothing is ever certain.

but—

the boy shifts on his lap, big brown eyes staring up at simon with unfathomable trust. like the sight of his mask, and weapons, and even having seen him in action—poised guns and clean shots on the head; unfazed eyes scanning the explosion of brain matter spilling he’s caused—was not petrifying.

simon knows what they say about ghost—the living boogeyman; the harbinger of death and destruction. and yet here the little boy is, looking up at him like simon isn’t anything other than man; like simon is something so human.

simon thinks about his place back home that’s dancing close to the outskirts of the city; he thinks about its picket fence and its brick walls and its big backyard.

he thinks about its love, forged from the softest hands that simon’s ever held; from the hands of the only one that simon’s ever loved.

“i’m bringin’ ‘im ‘ome.”

.

laswell was kind enough to pull some strings so that the boy has whatever legal documents he needed so simon can bring him back safely—passport, citizenship papers… adoption documents.

jacob emory riley. (yakov in russian. yasha.) he’s simon’s ward now. his son.

(laswell had congratulated him with crinkled eyes and the softest of smiles; it might just be the first simon’s ever seen her look so at peace.

somehow, it was that brief talk with laswell that made everything feel tangibly raw; simon realized that things got too real too fast, and that he found himself almost wanting to reverse everything he’d done so far because what if he wouldn’t be a good guardian to the child? what if simon’s too broken for the child? what if—

his thoughts stuttered, quaking until they reach a tentative halt because the boy closed his little fist around the entirety of simon’s finger. he was so small, like that, and still so blindingly trusting even with all the littering scars on his little arms and little legs. he held onto simon so fiercely, he didn’t even notice the turmoil in simon’s heart. or how simon had almost given him away in an act of his cowardice because simon is a coward. especially with this.

but jacob—

but yasha held him, chose him, and the storm raging in his head died down, petering into a quiet chill until simon could bite out a weak but not any less genuine, “thank you,” to laswell.

laswell stared at him, all-knowing as always, before bidding him and yasha a sweet goodbye.)

the boy responds better with the diminutive, all giggly and grabby hands as he toddles over simon. the rest of the squad had eased into their roles, battle-worn bodies turning into the softest cushions with yasha in their arms. he is a shy little thing, hiding behind simon’s leg whenever price would come visit, or refusing to be put down from simon’s arms or even make eye contact with mactavish when it’s his turn to babysit.

garrick was a different story altogether. yasha had looked at him once, studying with such inquisitive curiosity, before deeming his sergeant the safest after simon. he’d grumbled and cooed and begged for uppies—garrick had been all too pleased to give it to him.

which is why saying goodbye now is difficult.

yasha would not stop crying, pale face all blotchy and snotty as he wails, chubby arms thrashing, trying to reach for kyle, but the sergeant and their captain are already suited for the mission, ready to leave the moment simon and johnny and little yasha do.

“ky! ky!” he cries out, unable to fully say kyle’s name but trying so desperately because his grief is so much bigger than himself.

simon bounces him on his hip, trying to calm the little tyke down, but shrill wails pierce their ears, unstoppable, and he wonders if it was too cruel to have made him say goodbye to kyle and price. simon heard from the medic that it was healthy for children to cry, but yasha sobs like he is grieving, and simon can’t fault him—this is his first, and hopefully his last for a long while, experience of abandonment. sure, they’ve all told him that kyle would just be gone for a while, but yasha is a child, unable to reconcile such reality where his uncle isn’t flying home with him.

(they didn’t mention the fragility of their lives in their line of work; how, every time they suit up, there are chances that they’ll never return. yasha is too young for such reality.

‘sides, kyle promised to come back. so he has to.)

kyle is teary-eyed, so is mactavish, and simon presses his sorry’s and his reassurances on yasha’s inky black hair, while kyle makes a vow once more.

“don’t worry, son,” their captain croons, his face creased in the softest it has ever been. “i promise i’ll bring your uncle back in one piece.”

yasha sniffles, watery brown eyes not looking away. then, “o’ay.” he lifts an arm up, waving it cautiously. “buh-bye?”

“yeah, bubsy,” their captain replies because no one can, not kyle who is crying nor simon who can’t lift his face up from where he’s breathing in his son’s baby smell. “bye bye.”

“buh-bye,” yasha repeats, still quiet but more sure. “ky? buh-bye?”

kyle chuckles wetly. he steps forward and pinches yasha’s cheek. “bye bye, little man. see you in two weeks, okay?”

yasha hums, having grown exhausted from his emotional outburst. the base shrink said that’s normal for children; that it’s good when they’re emotional, it’s healthy, so simon bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from fussing.

instead, as a distraction, he nods at his captain and his sergeant, and he and mactavish turn to leave.

“daddy?” the little tyke asks.

“yeah?” simon replies, turning his full attention to yasha.

“buh-bye?”

“oh, son no,” simon murmurs. “daddy’s always goin’ t’be with you.”

yasha nods, and flops back down on simon’s chest, satisfied.

.

the flight was tedious, sprinkle the listless child with that, and it was just about draining. he couldn’t thank johnny enough for being with him throughout because being an uncle to tommy’s kids didn’t teach simon much about this—cranky and emotional two year-old’s, and their complicated tastebuds that almost made it impossible to feed them aeroplane food, and their odd sleeping patterns.

but as simon shoots yasha a glance, watching the boy sleep peacefully finally, he thinks to himself how it’s all so worth it.

.

johnny doesn’t follow them to prestwich, crashing instead somewhere in stratford before making his way back to dundee. yasha hadn’t cried as hard for johnny as he did when he said goodbye to kyle, but he’d been teary-eyed even when he refused to be given to his sergeant’s waiting arms. still, simon’s boy had been solemn and gave mactavish a weak wave.

simon tells yasha that johnny would come back in two weeks’ time too, with the captain and garrick, before trailing off when he realized he doesn’t know how to tell yasha exactly why johnny was giving them space.

shit, he hadn’t even thought about how yasha would react when—

the house appears past barren trees, and simon’s lungs constrict in one full swoop. god, he’s missed this place, very much so.

pinpricks fill the back of his eyes, and he desperately blinks them away as he tries swallowing past the lump in his throat, but not even the familiar warmth of yasha could ground simon back. rather, the reminder that simon’s not returning on his own this time makes everything feel a lot more intense, like ragged tendrils curling at the base of his neck, grasping him until reality and faraway dreams blend into something miasmic.

simon’s never once deluded himself with thoughts of having his own family. he once thought he’d go grey on his own, something he was perfectly fine with because nothing is ever sacred—the catholics had a word for it, johnny said, how one’s mere existence was the original sin, and simon is neither a pagan nor a believer, but when you grow up with shadows that are ever so perpetually haunting, you learn that not even the sign of the cross can truly ward off the demons.

but then, his beloved appeared before him—just as… fearful; as self-punishing as he had been, and he knows it was twisted but he had been pulled. he had been lulled into the weight of your gravitational force, dragging his heart until it was homesick for anything less.

(two words have never sounded sweeter to him before.

i do.

since then, he’s never hunger for more.)

(until yasha.)

the cab stops, the driver dutifully ignoring how simon must look, all brooding and emotional as he holds his child close, like if he blinks, someone would take him away. he tips generously, and declines any offer of helping with the unloading of bags in the trunk. simon didn’t even bring much, just a travel bag and a rucksack stuffed with as many travel essentials for yasha.

the boy is asleep again, exhaustion dragging him back to his dreams. he looks so peaceful like this, and younger too, and simon knows that isn’t a good thing because yasha’s so small for a two year old. simon’s only comfort is that he’s bringing him somewhere safe; a place filled with boundless love.

he walks to the front door, debating on whether he should just take the spare key underneath the nondescript potted plant to get in or just bite the bullet and introduce yasha to you like this, through the entrance.

the choice is taken from him when you swing the door open, surprise and disbelief lining your face.

“i saw you—” you say at the same time that he rasps out, “love—”

he beckons you to go first. you did so with a tremor in your voice.

“i saw you from the cameras,” you pause, roving your wide eyes over him, before stopping at the bundle he’s carrying. “haley helped me set them up—said you can, uh, get notification of movements outside and, and…”

he watches as you realize that you’re about to ramble, so you take a deep breath, finding the centre of your gravity, before, “baby? who…”

simon adjusts his hold on yasha, before a careful hand sweeps away the blanket so you can see the boy better.

“this,” he says, quiet and fragile. “this is our son, jacob emory riley.” he licks at his chapped lips, the word ‘our’ settling so warmly in the pit of his stomach. “our yasha.”

“oh,” you whimper instantly, tears already springing from your eyes. a choked sound gets stuck on the back of your throat before you’re rushing forward, careful to not jostle the tyke awake, until you’re pressing yourself against simon’s side, watching raptly.

“simon he’s—” you hiccup, rubbing your face on his shoulder. “darling, he’s perfect.”

simon ducks down to brush his lips on the crown of your head, humming deep because yeah, he is. but so are you—and he wouldn’t have done this, anyway, without you. because yasha deserved the best and simon doesn’t know anyone who could step up other than you.

you, who is so bright and joyful; who has crafted fortitude from the ragged shards of your pain.

you, who is the strongest person that simon’s ever met; how you could look at the storm and find a reason to dance.

you, who is so beautiful and lovely, and so utterly full of love that it spills into everyone you meet and everything you do.

yasha deserves you.

and, love, you deserve a family just like this too.

.

yasha wakes up and simon makes the mistake of not being there for him. he didn’t even know he accidentally slept in the living room, long body sprawled on the couch gracelessly. he jolts awake after the loud ring of cries, the fear he felt at hearing yasha’s familiar sobbing slams so fiercely into simon’s heart.

he topples to the ground, knees thudding against the hardwood floors, before he bolts up, frantic as he tears through the house, trying to find his boy, desperate to comfort him and to apologize and to make things right because he never wants yasha to feel so alone in his new home—

simon pauses, feet stopping just in front of the bedroom where you and simon had put yasha in since the guest room has yet to be baby proofed and prepared, when he hears your familiar croon.

“shh, darlin’. you’re alright, i promise.”

simon angles himself so that he can see through the ajar door. you’re kneeling on the floor, head a few feet away from where yasha’s is pillowed. the boy is staring at you with wide eyes, wet and red, but he’s no longer wailing, and simon wonders if it’s because yasha’s internalizing his fear, but then he sees the tyke make grabby hands at you—pudgy fists closing, then opening again. he seems like a baby like this, more than a toddler, and simon watches as you coo, inching closer, giving yasha room to roll away if he wants, but the boy turns to his side, facing you properly, and it’s all the confirmation you need to take him in your arms.

you rise up from the floor, yasha perched on your hip. the boy is still watching you, curious, and you murmur something too faint for simon to hear, before wiping at his wet cheeks and his runny nose.

“hi, love,” you murmur, voice a tad quiet. simon sees the hesitance in your gait, like you don’t know what else to say. it takes a heartbeat, before you’re uttering your name, voice curling around the vowels the way simon never gets tired of hearing.

“i’ve heard good things about you, you know?” you say, brushing the pad of your finger along the bridge of yasha’s nose. simon’s ears pick up huffing sounds, then your giggles, and yasha’s hum.

“oh, i sure did,” you add, smiling, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “simon said you’re the best boy ever!”

simon did, he guesses, say that but with more words—he told you how he found yasha, and how yasha had been so brave after such a stressful change in his life; how yasha had been so excited to learn and to trust, and how he’d brighten up everyone’s day back at the base; how yasha had first called him daddy, and the others unca’, his brave little boy so eager for a family that he made one even when all he’s surrounded with was a ragtag of broken men.

yasha is truly such a beautiful boy, so darling and loving.

“si-‘on?” yasha says, attempting simon’s name.

“yeah,” you reply, just as choked up as simon is. “simon… your daddy.”

yasha hums, fist curling up your shirt.

“daddy,” he repeats, nodding. then, like he remembers that simon isn’t there, yasha begins to look distraught again, whining, looking up to you like you hold the answer when he asks, “daddy where?”

simon takes that chance to walk in. you two whirl to look at him, both with pained faces easing up into the loveliest of smiles just at his mere presence. it makes simon feel… raw; that somehow, all he needs to be is himself, and it’s enough to brighten up the room.

his lips twitch up in his own smile too.

“hey there, kid,” he greets, slotting himself to your side so he can pull you close and be in yasha’s line of sight.

you turn, moving to pass yasha to him, but the boy’s hand is still tight on your shirt and he still looks at ease with you, and simon nuzzles his face on the top of your head in comfort when he sees the way your lips wobble at yasha’s easy display of trust.

“daddy!” yasha cheers. “you here!”

simon ruffles the soft tufts of yasha’s hair. “of course. did you nap good?”

yasha nods, distracted by the bright colours on the bed. the yellow pillows and the baby blue blanket.

the dog stuff toy.

yasha gasps, utterly delighted, and he wriggles out, begging to be put down, and you and simon watch as he runs to the side of the bed, plucking the toy out with a giggle.

“towy!” he says, showing it to you and simon.

simon files the name for next time, focusing on yasha as he runs to hug simon’s leg, then yours, before running back to the bed, chatting animatedly to the toy.

simon pulls you close, slotting your back to his front to bury his face on the crook of your neck, because this, right here, is change. but also, he’s home.

“i missed you,” he murmurs, because it is the only thing he can verbalize. he wants to say more—he wants to say how he’s never once stopped thinking about you, how he’s always kept a picture he has of you in his helmet, tucked under the crown pad, how he’d always toy with his ring when he has the chance because simon is made of many things, and one of them is your love.

but this is all that forms from his lips, inadequate, but then simon hears the twinkle of your laughter, and, “i missed you too, love.” and knows, there needn’t be any more words. not when you two have more time than he’s ever had the privilege to spend.

.

the first time yasha calls you his mom—“mommy!”—was just days before the squad was set to meet the riley’s in their residence.

it was a mundane day; you and yasha are in the living room, playing with his army of anatoly’s—towy—when yasha squeals, finally able to dig out his favourite anatoly from underneath the couch after futile attempts. you’ve asked him if you can help him with it, but he’d been so adamant, tutting the way simon does and it’s honestly so adorable that you let him have at it.

so you laughed at the sound of his happy trills, watching as he turns, running to you, saying, “mommy, towy look!”

he falls to your lap, humphing loudly and smooshing the turtle stuffie on your face, and all you can do is gather him close, trying not to cry in front of him but—

he’s called you mommy.

your little brave boy called you—

“mommy, sad?” yasha asks, readily giving you another treasure, saying the word so naturally like you were never anything else to him.

“no, sweet pea,” you reply, choked up with the weight of your joy. “mommy’s the happiest she’s been.”

you kiss his chubby cheek, breathing in his scent, before letting him squirm out of your hold so he can play with another anatoly, leaving you the turtle one. you hold it close, trying to ground yourself, but the happiness bloats and you feel floaty.

god, it is almost unimaginable.

(you tell it to simon later at night, and simon coos as he wipes the tears away from your cheeks.

“i’m so, so happy si,” you breathe out.

simon bumps his forehead to yours. “i am too, baby.”)

.

simon is not pouting, thank you very much. if anyone says otherwise, he’d like to go on record and say that they’re all a bunch of liars. yes, that includes his beautiful wife too because, again, simon is not pouting.

sure yasha has refused to detach himself from uncle kyle, but that doesn’t mean simon’s jealous, he swears.

“yer a lying scumbag,” johnny hisses at him because he’s been trying to get simon to admit that he’s jealous, which simon isn’t. “i’m on you, LT. i’m on you.”

“whatever ‘tavish,” simon grumbles, hands twitching at another hearty giggle that rings from where kyle is playing with yasha. “last i checked, the boy still runs away from you so, you know, start with that.”

“oh you motherfu—”

“boys,” price barked out, and simon and johnny cringe at the chastising voice of their captain. “language.”

johnny says something that no one picks up because he’s chewing on his words. simon sniffs, looking away only to meet your eyes. unabashed glee is bright on your face, and simon knows he would be hearing you teasing about this later on tonight.

simon scrunches his nose. you reply with a playful rolling of your eyes.

yeah, it’s a good day. and simon still isn’t pouting.

notes: it turned out to have heavier (?) parts than expected. also to clarify, yasha’s been picked up from a mission (the specifics were removed since things got a wee graphic). i’ve included a concept photo of simon and yasha, which was fun to use while reimagining! i hope u guys liked this <3 peace out and sm love mwah!!

[kianely]

”YOU SEND ME RIGHT TO HEAVEN”

i. PAIRING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS — Fresh out of police academy, Leon heads back to his hometown to crash with his best friend before he has to move to Raccoon City. The only problem is, you’re there too — his best friend’s sibling. He has been harboring feelings for you for years, so being under the same roof as you rekindles some emotions he wasn’t able to bury. You were in a similar position.

iii. CONTENT — MDNI, 18+, mutual feelings + confessions, fluff, kissing, making out, brief mentions of masturbation, blowjob (Leon receiving), lube, fingering (reader receiving), penetrative sex, protection, consent checks, aftercare, you just graduated college (so around same age as him), banter, he’s like the boy next door, late night car ride, he’s kinda cliche and throws a rock at your window, no mention of parents, I tried to make this more dialogue heavy woo, in Grammarly I trust, let there be no typos

iv. WC — 8.6k

Leon drummed his fingers against the leather fabric of his steering wheel, humming along to the song playing in his car. He was excited, parked outside of his old high school’s friend house — which by extension, was your house too.

He was fresh out of police academy, a soon-to-be rookie at the Raccoon City Department. He packed some bags with enough of his belongings and drove back to his hometown, wanting to spend some time with his good and most trusted pal before he settled down in a new city and focused on his work.

He took his keys off the ignition, got off, and got his bags. His hands were full when he walked up to the front door, so he rang the doorbell with his elbow. For some reason, he felt a tad bit nervous. He’d seen your brother maybe over six months ago, but he hadn’t been inside the place in a while, maybe a few years.

When the door began to open, he was almost ready to say your brother’s name. Instead, he was greeted with a special someone he hadn’t expected to see. You.

Leon nearly dropped his bags. He hadn’t seen you in a couple of years because you decided to dorm at a university. Right. Yes. You must’ve graduated by now.

“Leon?”

God, your voice almost made his jaw slacken. He loved hearing his name come out of your lips.

He didn’t even get a chance to respond — managing to keep his ground when you stepped out to hug him. “It’s so good to see you! It’s been what, like two years already?”

“Woah — yeah, yeah…something like that. It’s really good to see you too.”

You made his heartbeat spike. Your arms around him, the way you leaned against him. Granted, he was standing somewhat stiffly because he was holding his bags. But…he couldn’t resist you — he let them drop onto the patio floor with a couple of thumps before he wrapped his arms around you. He tried to do so in the most platonic way possible, fearing he’d see the light if your brother happened to join the scene.

Leon had a thing for you. Always had. Always will.

He was too scared to do a damn thing about it, in his eyes, you were simply off limits. Like a forbidden fruit, a temptation that couldn’t be indulged in without some sacrifice.

He let his arms linger back to his sides when you pulled away, and he sucked in a breath.

“Come on in,” you flashed him that gleaming smile of yours as you reached for one of his bags to help him out. “My brother’s upstairs cleaning up his room. He said he’s setting up a bed for you…I think.”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t let me take the couch. Said he wanted me to be his roommate, so it’ll be just like old times.”

Leon was hit with a wave of nostalgia as he took a look at the interior, it looked exactly like he remembered. Not much had changed, aside from the addition of some photos, a wall-mount TV instead of a TV stand, and other small details here and there.

“You’ve changed a lot. In a good way.” You spoke up.

“Have I?”

“Yeah, I mean, just look at you.”

He looked down at himself. Shirt. Jacket. Shoes. A similar style as before. And he knew his hair wasn’t any different. What were you getting at?

He then looked back at you.

Oh.

Your eyes were practically glued to his arms. Have you always blatantly checked him out like this? Suddenly, he felt a wave of heat wash over him. The worst part is, you seemed genuinely curious — not like you were ogling him, but as if asking: Wow? Where’d those guns come from?

“It was all the drills at the police academy.” He knew that you knew that, which led him to believe that the point of your observation was to subtly compliment him. “The amount of training was pretty brutal, but I’m ready for the job.”

“I’m sure you are. I heard you graduated at the top ten percent of your class, that’s pretty cool!” You were being genuine, he could hear it in your voice since it went to a slightly higher-pitched tone.

The playful nudge you gave his shoulder made the ends of his eyes crinkle, he loved it when you did that — it reminded him of how things were back then when he visited often, the way you’d nudge him or even ruffle his hair whenever you were happy or excited over his accomplishments. It made him feel seen.

“It was nothing,” he was humble, as usual. “It has just always been my dream.”

“I know…I’m really proud of you, Leon.”

The way you attached his name to the praise just made it sound all the more personal, the tips of his ears felt like they were burning. He bashfully rubbed the nape of his neck. “Uh thanks, I really appreciate that. It means a lot coming from you.”

Leon had always been a complete sweetheart with you. He was the epitome of ‘the boy next door’. He had fond memories of trying to muster up the courage to ask you to be his Valentine’s during high school — the two of you attended the same one and were a year off from one another, so he saw you around. Again though, he didn’t want to ruin his friendship with your brother…so he never asked.

He thought about driving over to your house and throwing a pebble at your window to get your attention, and he’d be holding a bouquet in his hands. Just a daydream, but a fun one to look back on nevertheless. He always gave you presents on your birthday and Christmas, nothing too grand so he wouldn’t get your brother suspicious, but just enough so he could see you light up as you unwrapped the gift.

“Are those your graduation photos?” He took notice of some polaroids splayed out on the coffee table, ones with you with a cap and gown.

“Yeah, feel free to look at them.”

Leon wished he could’ve watched you walk the stage. Yeah, he attended your high school one, but he would’ve liked to see the college one too. Maybe he’d ask if any of your family or friends took a video later. There was a goofy grin on his face the entire time he looked through them.

He was so absorbed that he didn’t even hear the footsteps down the stairs, nor the chuckle you let out before your brother playfully pulled him into a chokehold.

“Dude, really? How are you going to be part of the force like this?”

Leon swatted your brother away with a roll of eyes, all out of love of course — he easily maneuvered out of the half-assed chokehold. “Cut me some slack, I was a little distracted.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the problem. Don’t you have to be attentive and shit?”

That right there was your sign to leave — your brother was really close with Leon, and you wanted to give them time to catch up. After all, you’d probably be bumping into Leon a lot since he was going to be staying for a couple of days.

Leon hated the way his eyes trailed over to your form as you made your way upstairs. He’s supposed to be paying attention to your brother, so why were you clouding his thoughts? With a very small physical shake of head, he redirected his attention to your brother, nodding along as he listened in to his chit-chatter and caught up with everything that had happened in his hometown.

But in the back of his mind, he knew he was screwed.

You wanted to bury your face against your pillow and scream. How were you supposed to act now that your high school crush was here? Your brother’s best friend. The one you had always dreamed of dating. That was a long time ago. But even in college, you always longed to see him again — to grab lunch and coffee with him and then show him around your campus with your hand in his.

Leon popped into your head whenever you dipped your hand underneath your waistband to relieve your urges. Your stomach bubbled with craving when you felt pent up late at night, even if you tried to think of someone else, Leon was always in your mind whenever you came and muffled your noises into your pillow.

No amount of people you saw in college even came close to Leon.

He had gotten so much stronger. When he hugged you earlier…you could feel his bulging biceps and noticed how much broader his shoulders were. You were sure his pecs were in solid condition too, it made you want to bury your head between them. He had always been fit, but you knew damn well you’d see a six-pack if he took off his shirt.

So for his sweet self to be just a walking distance away was pretty overwhelming. You could handle a day, maybe even two, but as far as you know, he was going to be staying longer. Not as long as a week, but still enough to have you worrying.

It had been four hours since he arrived. You could faintly hear some laughter. That wasn’t a surprise though, your brother’s room was just across the hall from yours.

That's it. No more. You were going insane.

You got up and played some music, not too loud, just enough to drown the other sounds out. It was dark outside now, you opened up the window to let some of the breeze in to ventilate your room.

It was going just fine until you fast-forward to half an hour later.

A familiar set of knocks distracts you from your worries. Wait, never mind. The one behind the knocks was the cause of your worries.

You lowered the volume of your music a bit and took a very quick look in the mirror to make sure you looked okay before opening the door.

Leon leaned against your door frame, just casually — like he didn’t know just how pretty he looked right now. In his defense, you knew he probably didn’t. He had always been a little dense about all that.

“Hey.”

“...Hey.”

His awkwardness was a part of his charm.

“Does my brother need something or?”

“Oh, no. Uh, one of his coworkers called him and I felt a bit neglected, so here I am.”

Don’t you know it? If you had a penny for the amount of times your brother had paced around the entire house getting into a heated conversation over work gossip, you’d have enough to pay off your student debt.

“Trust me, those phone calls can last hours.” You walked back to sink into your bed with a contended grunt, making a hand gesture for him to come in.

Why would you do that? Being in a closed space with him wasn’t a good idea considering all the thoughts spinning in your head.

Leon had never really entered your room, at least not for over a couple of minutes. He didn’t know where to sit despite there being many surfaces: the window seat, your desk chair, the floor, the beanbag you had, your bed, no — out of the question.

“Don’t be so stiff,” you teased, finding the way he looked a bit out of place a little cute. “Sit anywhere you like.”

He laughed before heading over to the window seat. “Just don’t want to be intrusive.”

“You? As if.”

Leon took an in-depth look around — posters of shows and bands, little collections of trinkets, old textbooks, scattered papers on your desk, diplomas and awards plastered on your wall, stickers on the cover of your laptop, a corner with some of your hobbies, a counter with your personal products. It seemed so…you. So naturally, he liked it. It was cozy.

And God, it smelled like you too. It made him dizzy. In a way, it was comforting, like the scent he’d get whenever you passed by him or when the two of you briefly hugged. Though at the same time, his mind was also pulled toward a more inappropriate direction. He’d be able to drown in your scent if you let him bury his face against the crook of your neck so he could nip at your skin and make you a purring mess in his arms.

The idea of being so physically close to you to the point your fragrance and scent rubbed off on his clothes afterward? Now that had his blood rushing straight to the gutter.

You felt nervous, aware of his moving eyes — you were glad the attention wasn’t directly on you, you tried to continue casually scrolling on your phone despite the way your heart was hammering.

“Better than my brother’s room?”

“Mm, I don’t know about that.”

“Pftt, you’re just biased.”

He didn’t have a rebuttal for that, merely shrugging as his eyes continued their exploration. Eventually, he caught sight of something familiar sitting on top of your nightstand — a set of headphones he had gifted you. He always knew how much you loved music, so he had gotten that for you a long time ago.

“You still have those?”

“Hm?” You followed his gaze, and your lips tugged into a smile as you reached over to dangle them in the air for him to see more properly. “Duh! Actually…they stopped working a couple of months back, but they lasted me a pretty long time.”

With the ice broken, Leon felt more comfortable. He went over to sit down on your bed. He wasn’t questionably close to you, but he was manspreading so his knee nearly grazed against yours.

“Is there any use in keeping a pair of broken headphones around?”

“Uh, yes.” You said matter-of-factly as you now clutched them close to your chest, looking at them almost sentimentally. “I cherish everything that you’ve given me. These bad boys aren’t seeing a trash can anytime soon.”

Cute. Cute…Cute.

“You sure you aren’t just a hoarder?”

“Rude.”

“Just a question.”

“Yeah, a rude one.”

“You’re not denying it.”

“Whatever.”

You were killing him. Leon felt his self-restraint diminish by the second. He could mess up so easily. He wanted to confess. To kiss you. Hold your hand. Plant his lips against your forehead. Rest his head against your lap and melt as you play with his hair.

He could do it, assuming you returned his feelings. He was moving to Raccoon City soon, it’s better to not have any regrets, right? He loves your brother, but at this point screw him. Leon has been pining for you for years.

He was incredibly tempted, hanging on a thin string. But he had to know one thing first. “So, are you dating anyone? There must’ve been plenty of candidates in college.”

“Nah, I dated here and there but…nothing lasted long. It’s weird, everyone was focused on something different, so nothing ever worked out.” Because none of them were him.

“What about you?”

“No one.” He replied.

Great, you were both single.

Silence. Again. This time with occasional fleeting eye contact. Leon twiddled his thumbs, his hands resting on his lap.

You purposely shifted closer to him, enough for your thigh to press up against his a little. Wow. He hadn’t expected to feel a jolt of electricity from that.

He looked over at you more clearly this time, his eyes searched yours.

You were losing your shit, drawn to his baby blue eyes. With your nearby lamp turned on, you could see the way his cheeks progressively turned rosy. Your eyes flickered to his lips. They looked soft, as if he put lip balm on consistently. Would they feel like a pillow?

He felt like he was burning, and he nervously tugged his bottom lip between his teeth.

“You know, I’ve always found you cute.” You were the one to break the silence.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Your brother would kill me. Take it back.”

“My brother would kill you for something I said?” You scoffed. “You’re funny.”

“You know what I meant.”

You did.

But it hurt a little. Would Leon really hold back on his feelings all because of your brother? As far as you were concerned, your brother had never told you to not go after Leon. And if that was some sort of unspoken rule…then too bad.

Leon knew you had him wrapped around your finger, he didn’t stand a chance.

“Come on, Kennedy. You’re telling me you’ve never thought about this?”

“Well, yeah…But—“

“Just one kiss, please, Leon?”

You just had to say his name, didn’t you?

One kiss. Only one. Yeah, he could work with that. No hand holding or waist holding. Just a kiss, how bad could it be?

“Just one.” He agreed, his voice a whisper.

Leon leaned in, stopping just moments before his lips touched yours. He was nervous. If he was granted even a piece of heaven, surely he’d end up craving more. But he would deal with it. He caved.

His lips gently met yours. God, your lips felt plush. It was a simple one, ending as soon as it began. But of course, it wasn’t going to end there. The two of you were already in each other’s space. The short peck wasn’t enough.

“So, two?”

“Yeah.” You placed your hand on the side of his upper neck and caressed his cheek with your thumb.

“God…” Leon folded, leaning in once more with a suave and much longer kiss this time. His body pressed against yours a little, his body heat mixing with yours.

Just a few minutes passed, and the two of you were making out — slowly and sensually. Your tongues naturally clashed against one another, no rush or doubt, just instinct. Leon tasted good, like spearmint.

“I’ve always had a thing for you,” Leon murmured the confession out in between kisses. He didn’t want you to think he was kissing you just for the hell of it, or for mere physical attraction. You were important to him, the person who harbored his thoughts for the past years of his life.

Honestly, if you weren’t underneath him like this, you might’ve reacted more incredulously. But he was kissing you so intimately, you weren’t surprised. Even so, his sincerity was sweet.

“For how long?”

Another kiss — A pause.

“Since the day your brother introduced us.” Another one. “Six years now.”

You smiled into the kiss, and it prompted him to do so as well. But eventually, you leaned back to look at him. “For the record, I’ve always liked you too. You never made a move on me though, so I thought maybe you didn’t see me that way.”

“Please. I’ve always been crazy over you.”

“Good, that’s how I like my men. Now c’mere…”

With that, the two of you continued kissing. You could scream into your pillow later once you had the chance to process the fact the man of your dreams had just confessed to you. For now though…his taste was pretty damn distracting.

What drove Leon crazy was whenever he managed to hear some quiet noises escape from you: a discreet moan into his mouth, a gasp when he snaked his hand up and down your side, an exhale when he pulled away to kiss the corner of your lips and catch his breath. He hoped you didn’t feel the way he was beginning to get a little hard, not a full-blown boner, but…you got him riled up fairly easily.

Your fingers were threading through his hair, unintentionally ruffling it up. And you figured something out fairly soon — a gentle tug on his hair made him breathless. He liked it.

The music still softly playing in your room kept the sounds of your lips smacking and occasional chatter hidden, but eventually, your mind drifted to the reason why Leon had come into your room in the first place.

“Okay, okay.” You laughed quietly, pressing your palms flat against Leon’s chest and keeping him at a distance. “I think that’s enough…my brother’s probably done with his call by now. He probably just thinks you’re in the bathroom or something.”

Leon’s breathing was a bit heavy, his lips felt all tingly from the amount of time that they had been against yours. “I forgot about that…yeah, I should get going.”

He sat up, licking his lips as if to get more of your remaining taste. He was glad you guys had stopped there, otherwise, there’d be a bulge straining against his pants — which would be pretty damn awkward.

“You’re dangerous, y’know that?” Leon sounded amused. He stood up and went over to your mirror to fix his hair up and make himself look as if he had not just been kissing his best friend’s sibling.

“What are you gonna do about it? Handcuff me?”

“I’m not officially on the job…but I might just have to.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can talk to me about the law some other time.”

Two days had passed since then. Leon hadn’t had many opportunities to interact with you since your brother kept taking him out of the house to stroll around the town and reminisce on memories. Even amidst a trip down memory lane, Leon couldn’t get you off his mind. The kissing, the confession, there has to be more to the story the two of you have developed.

He couldn’t sleep all night, lying on the makeshift bed your brother had prepared for him. He tossed and turned, knowing you were just down the hallway was testing his self-restraint.

The good news? Your brother was a heavy sleeper. We’re talking…he wouldn’t wake up without many nearby alarms or without a bucket of water being poured onto him.

Leon shuffled out of his makeshift bed, threw some clothes on, grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone, headed downstairs, and then made his way outside, cringing a little at the loud creak of the door. He was going to get some fresh air and go on a drive around the neighborhood, he needed to clear his head.

Walking towards his car, he looked up at the house and noticed that one room was still all lit up even in the dead of midnight. Yours. Maybe you couldn’t fall asleep either, thinking about what happened.

He shouldn’t be thinking about throwing a small pebble at your window, but he couldn’t help it. There was a lot unsaid between the two of you. So…he threw a pebble.

With a huff, you got out of your bed to investigate what had dragged your attention from your phone. It wasn’t rare for you to hear a noise outside, but to have such a distinct sound against your window? You just wanted to be safe.

Leon saw you brush your curtain to the side, looking around before peering at him.

He felt small for some reason and motioned for you to come over, he didn’t want to yell in the middle of the quiet neighborhood. Leon leaned against the side of his car as he waited for you.

His hands felt clammy.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” You asked. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“Yeah, I needed some fresh air. Wanna go for a drive around the neighborhood?”

“You don’t even need to ask…I can finally call shotgun.”

Leon snorted at that. He had a car during high school and would occasionally give you and your brother rides, but your brother always called shotgun (obviously, since they were best friends), so you were always stuck sitting in the back and listening in to their conversations.

“Yeah, yeah.” He unlocked his car before opening the passenger seat door for you. “In you go.”

“Thanks.”

You put your seatbelt on and then looked around his car as he got in and turned on the ignition, waiting for the car to warm up.

“So,” Leon began, looking over at you with a coy smile. “About the other night…”

God, you had been dying to talk about it. In all honesty, you were internally a little bit upset that your brother had been dragging Leon out of the house, even if that was reasonable considering their friendship. But you knew that what happened wasn’t just a one-time thing, it couldn’t be, and you wouldn’t let it.

“Yeah, uh—” You met his gaze. “ I know you’re worried because of my brother and everything but I really like you, Leon. He cares about you, and he trusts you. I don’t…I don’t think he’d be upset if we ended up together.”

“Are you sure? I really like you too, I just don’t want to ruin anything.”

“Are you kidding? He’d probably be hyped about you being his future brother-in-law.”

“Already thinking about marriage, huh?”

“I—no…shut up.”

With a roll of eyes and a grin, Leon turned his attention to reversing out of the driveway since the car was all ready to go. Yeah, he looked really damn attractive while doing that, you couldn’t resist from looking at his arms. There wasn’t anything interesting to look at outside the windows anyway, you had walked and driven by all these houses practically every day.

“So, what made you like me?”

Leon hummed in thought after you asked him that, he kept his eyes on the road, trying to find a way to sum it all up.

“Well, I remember meeting you for the first time. You were breathtaking and held yourself so well, and I was just kinda standing there not knowing what to say. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you, and I remember thinking to myself: no one else has ever made me feel this way after a first impression, you must be the one. It was complicated though, I thought you were off limits, you know…that’s just friend code. And the more and more I came over, the more I fell for you. Everything about you. I just…I dunno. I like you.”

That was his short explanation, he could go ramble for hours about why he liked you, about all the little things you do and say that make him feel like a lovestruck fool.

“The feeling’s mutual…I’ve always wanted to be with you. Like, I can actually be myself and not have to force any conversation. It’s all so natural. I really missed you throughout college.”

Leon was smiling, pearly whites showing as he continued driving.

“We could’ve been high school sweethearts. Y’know…you’re the reason all my relationships failed.” You joked, though, it wasn’t far off from the truth.

“You’re seriously gonna blame me for that?”

“Yeah, you raised my standards way too much.”

“Not my fault.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Not.”

“Is.”

“Not.”

“Is.”

“...”

Leon knew that he would never get the final word, not when it came to you. He gave you the win.

The two of you must’ve driven around for a little over half an hour before Leon parked back onto your driveway.

“Actually, there’s something else on my mind.” You told him, taking in a breath before voicing your thoughts. “You’re moving in what…like a week? So, what does that mean for us?”

If there was one thing Leon was certain about, it was that he wasn’t letting you go. No, he’d gone six long years just pining over you and not making any moves, he’d figure something out.

“We’ll make it work.”

“But you’re going to be busy. I know how important your career is to you, what if I distract you and screw something up.”

He loved that about you, you were so damn considerate.

“Not gonna happen.” He retorted, turning off his ignition before getting out of the car — going over to your side to open it for you.

He walked side by side with you to the front door, and you were still quietly yammering about how worried you were.

“Hey,” his voice was soft as he turned to face you, he cupped his hands around your face. The caring look in his eyes could cure millions. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

With that, he gently kissed you, making all your worries fade instantly. You smiled and then kissed him again, tugging on the collar of his shirt to pull him closer. When you pulled back, you laughed a little before asking:

“My room?”

“Yeah.”

The minute the two of you were inside your bedroom with the door locked, you took the initiative and pushed him onto your bed. God, you adored the way his eyes fixated on you, the way his hand reached out to squeeze your hips as you got settled on top of him and captured his lips into a kiss.

A familiar makeout session, just like last time. The two of you lost track of time. But it was different this time: more steamy, a little more fast-paced — especially with the way Leon was practically squeezing all your curves, unlike last time.

“Mm.” He moaned softly, relishing the taste of your lips. His hand slid down to your ass, kneading the flesh as his breathing grew heavier. He was hard, whimpering every single time he got any friction down there.

He let his lips trail down to your neck, squeezing you a little harder when he heard you gasp.

You just about melted, your hand instinctively going to the back of his head to keep him close — the way his teeth occasionally nipped the sensitive skin was heavenly, it made you shudder and tug on his hair.

Leon was careful to not bruise your skin, just wanting to make you feel good like you made him feel.

“Oh shit, wait.” You got off him for a second, taking a quick moment to turn on some of your music. Not so loud that it would disturb anyone, but just enough to cover up your noises. “Okay…all done.”

You then repositioned yourself again. It was getting hot in the room, your hands reached down to tug your shirt off, no use for it anymore.

Leon swallowed thickly, his eyes roaming across your torso and taking every single feature in. He couldn’t resist from letting his hand wander across your bare skin, watching as goosebumps formed from his mere touch.

“You’re…” He whispered out, looking back into your eyes. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.” You said in return, a grin forming on your face. You reached your hands underneath his shirt. “Can I take yours off?”

Leon nodded mindlessly, he’d let you do just about anything to him. He was getting hot under the collar. He helped you out as you took his shirt off.

You felt a tingle shoot straight down when you saw his body. Pretty. He was pretty. You pressed your hands against his pecs before sliding them down tortuously slow to his abs. Rock hard.

“You’re so muscular now,” you let your fingers trace the lines of his abs.

“Yeah.” Leon’s voice sounded a bit strained. “Police academy will do that to you.”

“I bet.” You leaned down to kiss his torso, littering kisses all over his chest, smiling against his skin whenever you caught onto the subtle incoherent mumbles of encouragement he was voicing out.

“You know what I think?”

“Hm?”

“I think…” you trailed off, your lips reaching his stomach and your hand brushing across the tent that had formed in his pants. “You need some attention down here.”

“Mm…I think you’re right. But uh, are you sure?”

Leon was a bit worried you felt pressured into this. Yeah, it would be great to go further than kissing, but he wanted you to be completely comfortable with it.

“Yeah, I want to make you feel good, if that’s okay with you.”

“It is.”

“Okay, let’s use the traffic light system, yeah?”

“Sounds good.”

Leon was breathing heavily, eyes already lidded as he watched you pull down his fly and his jeans.

Your mouth watered, you had thought about this so many times that it was almost embarrassing. You kissed along his bulge, right through the fabric. You could’ve sworn you felt it twitch a little too.

“You’re pretty excited, I haven’t even done much.”

“Oh come on, you already know you drive me insane.”

You laughed and then tugged his boxers down.

Leon hissed, his cock now exposed to your eyes. He thought about this so many times when he tugged one out, but he never imagined he would have felt a little bit self-conscious. Like, what if you thought it was ugly or something?

Quite the contrary. You adored everything about him,

“Light?”

“Green.”

You planted a kiss against his tip, a gesture that made him chuckle breathlessly.

“Seriously?”

“What? I can’t kiss it?”

“No no, you can.”

You continued placing kisses across the length of his cock, all the way down to his balls. Leon groaned, the tips of his ears started to flush. Never in his life did he think he’d get such treatment from you.

“Now you’re just being a tease.”

You could tell he was desperate by the tone of his voice. “There’s a thing called patience, maybe you should learn it.”

He was going to counter your words, but all that left his mouth was a pitiful gasp when you started licking him. The sound went straight to the spot between your legs, you really wanted to palm yourself.

“Better?”

“Yeah…that feels really good.” He placed his hand on the back of your head, practically petting you as you flattened your tongue against the underside of his cock. He tilted his head back, jaw slackened as he took shaky and shallow breaths.

His stomach tightened up when you reached the tip, swirling your tongue around the sensitive area before finally sucking him off.

“Oh — Jesus.” He’s so sensitive, not used to having such a pretty pair of lips wrapped around his cock. In an attempt to quiet himself down, he chewed on his bottom lip, but the poor guy couldn’t contain the muffled noises that spilled instead.

You were eager to please, using a hand to stroke the base of his cock and taking the rest into your mouth. The combination had him purring, his head spinning with pure want and affection for you.

His hips involuntarily bucked, catching you off guard as his tip hit the back of your throat. His free hand bunched up the fabric of your bedsheets, he couldn’t think straight, not when you were between his legs like this.

Leon hadn’t felt this way in a while, it was overwhelming. And he could feel his abdomen growing warm. Just a little over a minute and he was already close — this was much better than all his fantasies.

“Wait…I’m almost there.“ He settled his hands on your shoulders. He made the mistake of looking down, the way you were peering at him through your lashes would drive any man insane.

Leon feebly tried to push you away. It’s not because he doesn’t want you to continue, no, he’d say the safe word if that was the case. But the idea of his cum filling your mouth…well, it made him feel a little embarrassed.

You were relentless though, taking him so well in your mouth. You were drooling by now, but that did nothing to stop you, not when you were enamored by the way Leon’s thighs were shaking. You had never been so turned on.

The moment your hand fondled his balls though, he was a goner.

“I’m—” Leon couldn’t finish his sentence, hips bucking against you and stilling as he came in your mouth. His eyes rolled back, and he bit his lip harshly to not let out a window-shattering moan.

You swallowed it all, pulling away to catch your breath and lap at his cock to take any leftovers. Leon was panting at this point, trying to recover from the orgasm you had given him.

“You must have a pretty good diet.” You really had the audacity to say that when Leon was still completely fucked out, barely even registering what you were saying.

“Uh…what—”

“Don’t worry about it.”

His cheeks were burning at what you implied: he tasted good.

Leon pawed at you, tugging you up so he could eagerly kiss you. It was sloppy and uncoordinated because of how dazed he was, but you couldn’t care less.

“You did so well,” he praised you, trying to make up for the way you rendered him speechless while sucking him off. “Better than I dreamed of.”

“Trying to flatter me, are you?”

“Oh, c’mon.” He scoffed.

He switched the positions, putting your back on the mattress and settling his hips between your thighs. He was more than ready to make you feel good too.

His hand traveled all over you, across your chest and hardened nipples, across the side of your ribs, squeezed your waist, went down to grab your ass, and then returned to your waistband, fingers tugging at your waistband.

“Can I?”

“Yeah.”

After you lifted your hips to help him take your pants and underwear off, you reached over to open the top drawer of your nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom.

Leon was relieved you were prepared, because he certainly hadn’t packed any of that for his visit, he didn’t think this would happen.

“Here, let me…” He reached for the bottle.

He put some lube on his middle and index fingers before reaching his hand back between your legs, teasing your hole a bit before very slowly sinking them in. You inhaled sharply at the coldness of it, letting out that same breath in the form of a moan.

“Is this okay?” Leon asked you, eyes watching your facial reactions to make sure the motion of his fingers weren’t causing you any discomfort. He was a little insecure of them, his training had roughened them up a bit.

“Mhm. Keep going.”

He did just that, continuing to dip them in until you eased up and they fit inside nice and snug.

He looked back down, letting out a quiet ‘oh fuck’ when you started bucking your hips up to meet his touch. God, he was so horny even after his climax, his cock beginning to harden up again.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he muttered, fingering you at a gentle pace, he swallowed the saliva that built up in his mouth at the thought of being inside you.

“I can, I think we’re made for each other.”

The way you managed a smile while letting out the prettiest noises stirred up many emotions in him. He liked the vulnerability of this moment, just two people who liked each other being intimate and connecting.

“Well, I do too. Just…I dunno.” He fell silent, his gaze returning to your face and watching as it contorted into one of pleasure when he angled and curled his fingers just right.

“Right there?”

You nodded, reaching your hand down to hover it over the one he was using. “Yeah. Fuck…just like that.”

The wet sounds of his slick fingers sliding in and out of you were driving him insane, and a string of curse words left his lips. “You sound so good.”

Each flick of his wrist had you squirming around, your bed sheets wrinkling and getting all messed up. Some of the lube spilled down your thighs, you’d need to wash your sheets after this.

Leon kept going until you came, feeling his cock come fully to life at the way you moaned and spilled his name.

“Leon…” Your fingers dug into his forearms, feeling his muscles flex as he coaxed you through your orgasm. His eyes were glued to your face, biting his lip at the way your pretty eyes rolled back. He pulled his fingers out when your legs closed together in response to the overwhelming presence.

“Holy shit,” you sighed when you regained your senses, eyes fluttering open to meet his.

His lips tugged into a smile, he looked pretty proud of himself. “Felt good?”

“Better than good, but…”

“But?”

“I want more.”

“More as in…?”

Could he be more dense?

“I want you inside me.”

“Oh. Right.”

His cheeks turned red, well, redder than they already were. He ran a hand through his hair and nodded. “Do you wanna be on top or?”

You gave it some thought, reaching over for the unopened condom — there was time for both, but to start, you wanted to ride him.

“I’ll be on top.”

With the repositions all done, you straddled his hips, tearing open the condom packet. Your heart was hammering like crazy, one of your dreams was about to come true. It wasn’t just about sexual pleasure, this was the man you had liked for literal years.

Leon noticed that you seemed to be pensive while putting the condom on him. His hands settled on your hips, thumbs rubbing about the flesh.

“What are you thinking about? Talk to me.”

His caring voice pulled you from your thoughts, you shook your head and smiled.

“Just about how long I’ve wanted this. You know, being with you. I’m really happy.”

God, he adored you. “Me too.”

You aligned yourself with his cock, “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

You curled your fingers around the base of his cock to keep it stable before slowly sinking onto him. You felt the air escape from your lungs. Your jaw slackened and you let out a silent moan until you took all of him in.

“You’re going to be the death of me…” Leon gritted out. “Fuck, I didn’t think it would feel this good. You okay?”

You nodded, feeling full, the curve of your ass was against his balls. “Yeah, I think the foreplay really helped. I’m gonna start moving now.”

You put your hands against his chest and began riding him. Leon groaned in pleasure, his hands kneading your ass and helping you roll your hips. He felt bad that his fingers were digging into your skin but he couldn’t help it.

“Ah…Leon.”

Your mewls made his cock twitch inside you, his eyes rolled to the back of his skull.

He looked so pretty underneath you — his hair splayed out, a thin layer of sweat over his muscular torso, the baby blue part of his eyes almost covered now by his dilated pupils. So pretty.

Leon couldn’t take his eyes off you, not even if they threatened to shut from the way you were working him. No, they were all over you — watching the way your eyebrows were furrowed, the heave of your chest from your inconsistent breathing, how your eyes seemed glossy whenever they met his.

He reached his hand over to your chest, fingers gently pulling at one of your nipples. God, you rutted against him a bit faster at that, making him hiss and trash his head against your pillows. “Jesus…”

“Come on, say my name instead. I’m tired of hearing his.”

He laughed at that, wondering how you could even think of that at this moment. Because personally? He couldn’t come up with any banter, not with the way you were on top of him, turning a fantasy of his into a reality.

“Mm, just like that…it’s yours, all yours. I’m yours.”

Did he know how hot that was? You practically groaned just by hearing him say that. Leon thrust up to meet your hips, not missing the hiccup of your breath or the way your body almost gave out from the abrupt movement.

Honestly…having you underneath him didn’t sound all that bad right now. “Wanna switch?”

You paused your movements and nodded, happy that he asked — being on top was pretty tiring, and you knew he had the strength for it. You pulled yourself off his cock, you weren’t all that sure what he had in mind but you were eager nonetheless.

“Go for it.”

“Okay, just…” He gently maneuvered you to your back with ease. “There.”

“Show me that stamina of yours.”

He rolled his eyes, knowing you were referencing his training. “That’s going to be a little tough with you underneath me.”

He sat back on his knees and stroked himself, his eyes raking your form.

Watching him jerk himself off was hot, you could watch it all night…but, there’s always a next time. Right now? All you wanted was the intimacy of having him inside you again.

Leon bit his lip as he rubbed the head of his cock against your hole, he looked back up at you, he knew there was no way in hell he would last long. But he wasn’t embarrassed over it, he’d been waiting years, it was only natural.

Leon reached to hold one of your hands, keeping his other one on his cock to guide himself in. He took a deep breath, his stomach muscles clenching a little as he managed to get the tip in. “God…I’m definitely not gonna last in this position.”

“You’re not evenfully in yet.” You were breathless though, mind swirling at just the tip. You tried to steady your breathing and relax so he could fit without difficulty.

He laughed at that. “Yeah, yeah.”

A synchronous moan left both of you when he eventually bottomed out against you, taking a moment to get used to the feeling. He leaned down to kiss you, his hair dangling and brushing against your forehead in the process.

He hoisted your ankles over his shoulder and planted his hands beside your head, practically folding your knees to your chest. He didn’t miss the way he got hit with some of your usual fragrance, clearly, you had put some on either the back of your knees or your ankles…he wasn’t sure which one.

“Were you…anticipating this?”

“...What?” You sounded so fucked out and he wanted to laugh.

He chuckled. “Nothing.”

He chose to keep his newfound knowledge to himself for now. He kissed your somewhat sweaty forehead before starting a rhythm with his hips. Your walls were squeezing him, making him a panting mess against the shell of your ear.

You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging and pulling at it whenever one of his thrusts hit deeper than the others.

His hand found your free one, interlacing his fingers with yours. He sighed contentedly at the way you immediately squeezed his hand. He liked this, being close to you.

“Leon…” You moaned his name out, making a jolt of electricity shoot straight through all his nerves. His thrusts got faster, the sound of skin-to-skin contact intermingling with the light music playing in your room.

“Feeling good? Yeah, you’re taking it so well…I’m gonna be thinking about this for months.” He murmured the praise against your skin, kissing your ear before making his way down your neck.

Your reaction was immediate, clenching down on him and gasping, nails digging into his scalp. Hearing such praise come from Leon? God, it drove you insane.

Leon grunted, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your neck like a starved man. He could tell you were close, and he wanted to bring you over the edge of ecstasy — to coax an orgasm out of you before he spilled into his condom.

“I’m close…” you mumbled out, your eyes fluttering shut as you gave into the feeling, Leon was taking the lead, you didn’t have to worry about a single thing.

“I know,” he met your lips for a kiss, grunting and whimpering into your mouth with each snap of his hips. “Me too.”

He kept his pace the same, knowing it was getting you to approach your climax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” his words were quiet, a little high pitched too, he could feel you holding his hand so tight that your fingers were leaving indents against the back of it.

“Please,” Leon pleaded. “Come on my cock…I need it.”

Your body started feeling tingly, your back arching and your hips trying to buck against him in pursuit of the feeling. You were right there.

“Leon! Leon…” Your head tipped back into your pillow. “I’m coming.”

He felt you squeeze him, your body trembling and twitching against him as he continued thrusting against you in your moment of bliss. But he didn’t last either, hips stuttering when he came inside the condom, feeling his cock get all warm from it.

“Oh…” Leon let out a guttural groan, followed by some whimpers of your name as he stilled inside you — slumping his body against yours, burying his head against your shoulder, and sloppily kissing the area.

The two of you stayed like that until you recomposed yourselves, your breathing pattern returning to normal. Leon mustered up the strength to prop himself back up, pulling out of you with a with a small whimper.

“Hey,” he whispered, a grin on his face as he kissed your cheek.

“Hey yourself.” You told him back, watching as he got up with a noise of complaint to take off the condom and throw it into the trash can.

“Come back here,” you laughed out, extending your arms for him.

“I am, I just didn’t wanna make a mess on your bed.” He came back over, laying down on his side and pulling you close.

“You already did, doofus.”

You turned to your side too. You could deal with the mess on your bedsheets later.

Leon held you close, slowly running his fingertips along your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He kissed the top of your head and stayed like that for a few minutes. Just in each other's arms — letting your bodies calm down after the rush of pleasure and overwhelming emotion.

Leon’s body felt warm to the touch, he would make a really good blanket, a personal heater. You rubbed your hands across his shoulder blades, occasionally letting your nails scratch the skin lightly.

“How are you feeling?” Leon asked, reaching a hand to cup the side of your face, rubbing his thumb against your cheekbone.

“I feel really good,” you murmured, a lazy smile on your face, still feeling a rush of affection for him after the moment ended. “Everything about this feels perfect, I am a little sleepy though. You?”

“Same here.” He returned the sentiment, internally giddy about how everything had unfolded in the last few days. He couldn’t resist kissing you — just a sweet and simple one before pulling back.

“Need anything? A cup of water or something?”

Now that you think about it, your mouth feels kinda dry.

“Maybe a glass of water?”

“Mm,” Leon nodded. “Got it, I’ll be back.”

He kissed your forehead and then got up, putting on his boxers and pants (despite how uncomfortably sticky it felt) and quietly headed downstairs to grab two glasses of water and a small snack too — he knew his way around the house, so it was no big deal.

You wanted his body warmth again, rolling over to the side of the bed that he had been on to feel it once more.

Eventually, you heard the door creak open — revealing Leon, who had a sweet smile on his face as he shut it. He set down a bowl of fruit on your nightstand and then sat on your bed, handing you the glass of water you requested

“Miss me?” You asked, teasingly. You sat up.

“Oh yeah, big time.”

He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He brought his cup of water to his lips, letting out a refreshed sigh after taking some gulps. You had him moaning and panting so much that he was sure his lips would get all chapped.

Leon gently coaxed your legs over his extended ones, caressing them.

“So…” Leon cleared his throat, “I never properly asked.”

“Asked what?”

He had a hopeful look in his eyes, a goofy grin on his face as he asked:

“Can I be your boyfriend?”

[izvmimi]

“Oh, you’re here!”

Izuku’s voice snaps you out of your waking reverie, and his hands placed gently on your shoulders help steady you once again, bringing you from the sometimes cajoling, sometimes shrill siren call of nostalgia back to the present day. He leans close, letting his chin rest gently on the top of your head and somehow knows to hesitate before asking you any other question. He’s followed your gaze by now, and sees where you’ve been staring, your feet still planted firmly in your tracks, and it’s easy to tell that the old Non-no shirt, series 5, that the meta war refugees got him over a decade ago, pressed unnaturally wrinkle-free and clean and put behind glass have sent you back to that unfortunate era. 

You nod slowly, and his hands slide from your shoulders down the sides of your arms, gripping you gently. 

“What are you thinking about?” he asks. 

His voice is soothing and steady, unlike your just slightly shakier one as you ask,

“I already know your answer to this, but…,” you turn to him slowly, and look him in the eyes, “would you do it all again?”

Izuku stiffens for just a moment, not out of hesitation in his response but because of the gravity of your feelings for him at that very instant. He knows that even if he’d sacrifice himself in a heartbeat for even a fraction of that responsibility again, it’s one of the things that scares you the most about him, even if it’s the thing about him that’s also most loved by you.

After all, you’re the one that framed the shirt to put in his study, himself being content to just keep it in a suitcase among all other extra clothes and keepsakes he lugged with him from his old apartment to your new home together.

You are the one who reminds him that his sacrifices mean something, and even if they are natural to him, they should not be taken for granted by anyone in the world he’s sworn to protect.

Taking in a short but deep breath, and letting out an exhale, he answers.

“Yes, I would do it all again.”

He worries you’ll frown but instead you smile to yourself, then step forward to wrap your arms around him. A little confused about the suddenness of your emotion, but also warmed, he lets his arms wrap around you to keep you close.

You stay like this together for a few moments, Izuku practically forgetting why he’d come looking for you, and you practically forgetting why you’d come into this room in the first place, just basking in the fact that your bodies still breathe life on the same plane, at the same wavelength, and you still have each other to hold in a world that is safe and better for all of his efforts.

[fae-feeder]

I know you like to imagine what your body would look like if you truly gave in.

Close your eyes and picture yourself as you are, but wrapped in a soft, heavy, cozy layer of fat. Legs spread apart by pillowy thighs that always touch. They aren't much good for walking any more, but they've embraced their calling as an erotic zone, a tender expanse so sensitive to the touch that you tremble when my hand runs gently across them.

Reach out to where your hips would be, filling the bed, or spilling over the edges of your chair. Trace the edges of these hips with your fingertips. Hips that fill a couch, hips that get stuck in doorways. Think about all the things you won't fit into any more. Whisper that you're just too big.

Now imagine your breasts, massive and swollen, filling the bottom half of your field of vision. Beneath them, your belly rests heavy in your lap. Imagine the weight of it all holding you down like a weighted blanket, encouraging you to stay cozy and sedentary. Trace the shape of this with your hands too, outlining the sensitive curves of your breasts, kneading your overfed belly like risen dough.

Picture your upper arms, enormous pillows pressed against your sides. Feel their weight as you try to lift them, feel the size of them swaying when you reach out your hands. I'll make sure you never have to reach them far, always bringing you another tray of treats. Always touching you where you can't touch yourself.

With a body like that, everyone would know what you are. A body like that can only come from a life of lazy days and constant eating, spoiled and helpless, giving up on anything that requires strength or mobility. It's a body that you could only have because you wanted it, needed it desperately, enough to sacrifice all the things normal people take for granted. Wanted it enough to give in.

I know you dream about how it would feel to have that body, to be seen in that body, to be loved in that body. Is there anything that turns you on more than imagining yourself so soft, so pampered, so wide and so loved?

[maniacwatchestheworld]

Making up things about Danny Phantom herb lore for fun #1: Blood Blossoms

The specifics as to why Blood Blossoms have such strong ghost-repelling qualities are still unknown. The Blood Blossom flower has a strong and pleasant smell and is edible by humans, having a light, flowery, and sweet flavor to them. Traditionally, it was often used as a famine food, and it was not uncommon for the flowers to be put on bread as they were- cut straight from the stem- and consumed with a bit of butter. As summer turns to autumn, unharvested blood blossoms turn into a fruit known more colloquially as 'Blood Berries.' Blood berries are also edible by humans, maintaining a similar level of sweetness as their flowers, but with a much richer, often overpowering taste. As such, the berries would often be reduced and put into jars of preservers or used as a marinade for meats. Only a little was needed to draw out the richer dimensions of food. While the scent of blood berries will still drive away ghosts, the scent of blood berries is not as strong as their flower counterpart unless actively being cooked. However, dried blood berries, and preserves using them tend to keep especially well in the cold winter months.

While one may assume that Blood Blosdoms were named for their vibrant, red, blood-like hue, it is thought by many historians that blood blossoms were especially favored by the Blood family who hailed from England, and it was them who named the flower. The Blood family's coat of arms features a design that incorporates flowers that look very similar to blood blossoms, perhaps proving to be evidence of this theory.

There are many theories as to why Blood Blossoms repel ghosts, among which is the idea that the scent of these flowers is exceedingly repulsive to ghosts, that something in their chemical makeup makes ectoplasm react in adverse ways when a ghost consumes one, or that it is a component of ghost-repelling spells- therefore ghosts feel a natural aversion to them. However one legend purposes that the reason for why ghosts are repelled by blood blossoms stems from their origin- There is a legend that says that once upon a time, a man would secretly worship at a shrine to a local forest spirit of life and the harvest. The man and his family had been cursed by evil spirits some years before, and where the Christain God had forsaken him and his family, the gentle forest spirit took pity on him and gave him what help she could. He did not have much to offer her. He would work all day in the field and barely yield enough to feed his family. His wife had been injured some years before and so could not work the fields with him anymore, nor could she even ready his meals for him when he returned home each day. And his daughters had fallen under some kind of mysterious illness that, while it fortunately had yet to take their lives, also refused to subside. Still, what little he could spare he would sacrifice to the forest spirit in hopes that she would bring them better fortune, a better crop, and protection from the evil spirits that had cursed him and his family. But one day he came to the nature spirit's alter, a gaping wound in his chest. The ghosts that had cursed his family before had returned for their souls. He did what he could- cast incantations around his humble home, but this injury had been the cost of trying to keep his family safe. The spirits were stronger than his incantations, and it would not be long until the spirits broke through them. He begged the goddess to protect and help his family. Without him, how would they eat? How would his family survive? The humble farmer died on the forest spirit's alter. She wept for the man who sacrificed everything he could to her to protect his family. And so she thought that the least she could do was to grant his wish. Plants erupted from the ground where his blood had spilled, bearing bright red flowers with black thorns. They traveled along the forest path to his home, where they surrounded the building, forcing the ghosts away. They would never return to hurt the family ever again. And with the spirits gone, the daughters were able to heal from the illness. It was soon discovered as they trimmed the wild black thorns back that the flowers were edible and delicious too. The stems and twigs burned especially hot, helping them to keep their hearth warm throughout all the autumn and winter. And the berries kept all the winter through. And so the man's wishes had all come true. For the rest of their days, his family would be protected from the spirits that had haunted them, and they would never need to go hungry ever again.

[morningsinparis]

The Honorable Thing

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THE END OF ALL THINGS BELOW!!

if you've ever dreamed about giving Elminster a piece of your mind... well, this one's for you.

“Right, ahem.” Elminster clears his throat, hesitating. “You see… I, er… that is to say…” He pauses, takes a steadying breath, and seems to decide to come out with it plainly. “Gale, m’boy, I’ve come to address a most pressing matter. I’ll speak as plainly as I can, forswearing the accustomed frills that decorate my speech. I’m here on behalf of Mystra. The message and the charge I bring you are hers.”

You feel your spine straighten, a tense shift in your weight as you brace for whatever Mystra could possibly want. “Okay. And what does she want with Gale now?”

Gale lets out a humorless laugh. “Oh, one can only imagine.”

Elminster gives him a look, then sighs. “You know where you went wrong, Gale. We needn’t dwell on that here and now. But even so, you’re to be given a chance of redemption.”

Your jaw tightens, and you feel your arms cross on instinct, your posture bristling with defiance.

“Redemption?” Gale’s voice is quiet, laced with surprise and the faintest glimmer of hope. “Mystra would consider… forgiveness?”

Elminster hesitates, then replies, “She would consider… what she considers to be forgiveness.”

Your eyes narrow at the evasive response, suspicious of what it could mean. Elminster continues, “Mystra is aware of the misadventures that have befallen you both. She knows of your strife with the Absolute, that most insidious of evils.”

You stifle the urge to make a sharp retort about Mystra herself, but a quick glance over your shoulder reveals Karlach giving you a worried look, silently urging you to hold your tongue. You shift uncomfortably, biting back your words.

Elminster’s tone grows somber as he addresses Gale. “You must know that the Absolute is more dangerous than you can possibly conceive. It threatens all who live—even those who are undying. It threatens the gods, the Weave, the very fabric of the universe itself.”

At this, Elminster glances your way, and his look makes your brows furrow with unease. It’s almost as if he’s implying you should understand the gravity of the Absolute’s threat on a personal level. You force yourself to ignore the unease settling in your chest as he turns back to Gale.

“This is why I have come here to charge you, Gale, with its destruction. It is Mystra’s belief that only you can.”

The words send a chill through you, and your mouth twists in a scoff. “Don’t tell me…”

But Gale, eyes wide with dawning realization, looks at Elminster. “The orb.”

“Precisely,” Elminster replies, his tone grave, as though he takes no pleasure in saying it. “Mystra has granted me the power to ‘stop the clock,’ as it were, on the orb’s rush to overpower you. Instead, you will be able to unleash its lethal combustion at will.”

Your face falls, horrified at the suggestion. Before you can even voice your dismay, Elminster continues, his tone unwavering, “You must find the heart of the Absolute, whatever that may be, and use yourself as the catalyst that will burn it from this—”

“No.” The word leaves your mouth like a gunshot, breaking through his speech with the force of your conviction.

Everyone turns to you in shock, including Gale, who tries to speak. “Y/N…”

You don’t look at him, your glare fixed squarely on Elminster. The old wizard, visibly startled, stammers, “Pardon me? No?”

“You heard me,” you say, taking a step toward him, squaring up. “I said no.”

Gale’s hand lands on your shoulder, a gesture both grounding and calming. “He’s not the one tasking me with this, Y/N. Mystra is.”

You turn your gaze to him, eyes blazing. “Fine. Then she can answer to me.”

Elminster looks almost awkward, taken aback. “It brings me no pleasure saying this, my friend, but such is Mystra’s will. Yours must be the sacrifice that will undo the Absolute. And for your sacrifice, you will be redeemed. Such is Mystra’s promise.”

A bitter, sarcastic smile crosses your lips, and you wave your hands mockingly. “Oh wow. Redemption.” You scoff, the venom unmistakable in your voice. “What the fuck kind of good is that going to do if he’s dead?”

Elminster opens his mouth as if to respond but hesitates, clearly at a loss for words. After a long moment, he sighs. “I have said my sorry piece. I can say no more. I need only bestow unto thee the charm I was bid.” He raises his hands, chanting softly as his eyes glow a deep purple. An arcane rune appears in the air, swirling with magical energy before flowing into the tattoo on Gale’s chest, which flares in the same purple glow.

Gale stands still, his face unreadable as he accepts the charm. You watch him, incredulous, your expression full of hurt and anger as you wonder if he truly means to go through with this.

Elminster lowers his hands. “It is done. Both charge and charm have been committed into your care,” he says to Gale, then turns his gaze toward you with that same knowing look, a look you meet with a hard glare. Finally, he addresses Gale again, his voice softer. “Farewell, my friend.”

Gale nods slowly, his voice hesitant. “Farewell, Elminster. I’m glad she chose you.” With a final nod, he turns and walks off, his expression clouded.

You start to follow him, but Elminster’s voice stops you. “Miss Y/N, if I may…” He begins, his voice carrying a weight that pulls you into tense attention. “The Lady of Mysteries has a message for you as well.”

You hesitate, glancing at Gale’s receding figure, then back to Elminster. “A message?” you echo, suspicion flickering in your eyes.

Elminster nods, almost as if regretting what he’s about to say. “Mystra hopes that you, too, will do the honorable thing.”

Disbelief settles into something sharper, colder. “And what exactly does Mystra think is the ‘honorable’ thing?” you ask, keeping your voice steady.

“To die a hero,” he replies, his tone firm but edged. “You are not of this world, yet you’ve bound yourself to it in ways that risk its very existence. The Absolute is dangerous, yes, but you…” He pauses, his voice weighted with foreboding. “Your presence here is not merely a threat—it’s a near certainty that you will destroy us all.”

The words sink in like stones, and, almost in answer, a subtle wind picks up around you, swirling the flames in the campfire and casting long, erratic shadows across the ground. The trees along the camp’s edge sway, their branches bending toward you, pulled as if by an invisible force. You stand tall, a fierce determination in your gaze, and reply coolly, “Then who better to destroy the Absolute,” each word razor-sharp, “and spare Gale this madness… than the only person more dangerous than the Absolute itself?”

Elminster’s eyes flicker with a hint of unease as he glances at the trees, which bow and sway in your direction as if caught in reverence—or subjugation. He presses on, though his voice is less steady. “Mystra hopes you’ll see it differently,” he says. “That you’ll let yourself be destroyed by the orb’s power.”

The fire flares again, and the wind grows stronger, a steady, unsettling breeze that seems to sweep through the entire camp, rustling the tents and whipping through the trees. You feel a deep pulse within you, resonating with the Weave, and a faint glow ripples around you, a flicker of purple energy illuminating the edges of your aura. “That goddess has let her divinity go to her head,” you say, voice like steel. “How many sacrifices does she demand before she’s satisfied? How many people has she asked to blow themselves up in her name?”

Elminster’s expression tightens, his voice laced with a warning. “You disrespect the goddess of magic herself,” he says, though there’s a flicker of doubt as his eyes flick to the fire and the trees, all bowing, all yielding toward you.

Your patience snaps, and a faint arc of purple energy sparks from your fingertips, rippling through the ground as your aura sharpens, brighter and more defined. “I have not disrespected the goddess! She has disrespected me.” You step forward, your presence commanding, the ground beneath your feet trembling as the fire’s flames tilt in your direction, casting the entire camp in a shifting violet glow. “And you—a wizard of legend, sent here to command someone you once mentored to blow himself up? Are you out of your mind?”

Elminster’s stance falters as he takes in the energy roiling around you. The trees seem to bow more deeply now, bending almost unnaturally toward you, the wind pulling leaves and branches toward the gravitational force of your anger. “I am Mystra’s chosen, and so I follow her will,” he says, but there’s a tremor in his voice as he struggles against the pull of your defiance.

A humorless, cold laugh escapes you, reverberating through the camp. The shadows cast by the flames deepen, flickering wildly as the trees sway in rhythm with the pulse of your anger. “Yeah. I can see that. You’ve become more her chosen than you are a man, Elminster.”

Taking another step forward, you meet his gaze, eyes glowing a fierce, unyielding purple, the Weave crackling visibly around you. “Gale will not be destroyed. I will not be destroyed. I refuse." You take a breath, shaky with barely contained fury, "Mystra’s will can never match mine. And if she has something to say about that then she can come down here and face me!”

With that final, resolute declaration, the fire flickers and subsides, the wind slowing as the energy around you stills, leaving the camp in heavy silence. Elminster stands rigid, his expression struck as he watches you. But without waiting for him to recover, you turn sharply and walk off into the darkness to calm down before finding Gale, leaving the campfire’s dim, violet embers to fade in your wake.

As you leave, Elminster sighs heavily, and with a final glance in the direction you stormed off, he vanishes in a puff of smoke, teleporting away to wherever Mystra’s summons will next take him. The companions are left watching after you, each stunned into silence by the sheer force of your display.

Karlach breaks the quiet, whistling low. “Whoa. Remind me never to make Y/N mad.”

— The End of All Things on ao3

[ssahotchnerr]

need me some domestic aaron where maybe reader hasn’t moved in yet with him but he keeps all her favorite food / necessities stocked up for when she comes around 🥹

your favorite

god please i need an aaron cw; mentions of food

friday nights were notorious for movie nights.

it was the perfect way to unwind after a busy work week, and to kick off the weekend. you would find yourself at aaron's apartment, snuggled with him and jack on the couch, surrounded by blankets into the night. jack especially loved the 'no-set bedtime' rule on these particular occasions- you'd never forget the look of shock and joy on his face when aaron first introduced it.

currently, jack had been really into star wars, and so the three of you were slowly yet surely making your way through the saga.

and with movie nights, of course came the snacks.

tonight, you had come from work directly to the apartment, meaning you hadn't stopped at home. and while aaron would offer you some of his clothes to lounge in, it meant you hadn't been able to retrieve your favorite snacks from your pantry. you could've stopped at the store on the way, sure, but you were too eager to see your boys and quickly dismissed the idea.

it was the easiest sacrifice to make if it granted you more time with the pair of them, after all.

"i'll be right back."

about halfway through the movie, you threw back your end of the blanket to allow yourself to get up, tossing it gently overtop jack who had been sandwiched between you and aaron. his muffled laughter followed you as you scrambled off the couch, as well as the sound of droids firing away coming to a stop as aaron paused the movie momentarily.

you had originally been in search of another drink- the popcorn had been generous on the salty side tonight- when you noticed your usual snack of choice laying on the counter. it was a variety bag, the contents containing a combination of pretzels, sun chips, cheetos, chex-mix.

"c'mon, we're waiting." aaron teased as he entered the kitchen soon after you, grabbing a juice box from the fridge for jack.

you turned to face him, evidently about to voice something. and when you hadn't, he arched an eyebrow in question, prompting you to approach the bench.

"you have my favorite snack mix?"

"yes...?" he answered hesitantly, as if it were obvious, but also as if he didn't know whether it was a good or bad thing.

you blinked in surprise, warmth flooding through your body. “you didn't need to do that.” your voice fell on the softer side, an endearing tone.

"of course i did, they're your favorite." aaron answered easily as he approached, giving your cheek a chaste kiss in the process. "it's been in the cabinet for a while. i pulled it out earlier when i noticed you hadn't brought any."

you stared at him in astonishment. "really?"

just when you thought he couldn't get more perfect.

"yeah." aaron nodded his head, a sweet boyish grin painted on his face. his arms securely wrapped around your waist, pulling your front flush to his. "i want you to feel at home here."

you smiled up at him, lifting up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. “i appreciate it. and you. so much, i don't think you understand."

aaron returned the favor, but prolonged the kiss for a few seconds more. "anything and everything for you."

you couldn't help but kiss him again, as it was all too easy to get lost and melt into him.

the perfect man, truly.

the two of you could've stayed there forever. especially when aaron backed you up against the counter, each of you being completely consumed by the other. but jack's voice echoed from the living room, calling for the two of you to 'hurry up!'

with a small, yet still satisfied sigh, aaron forced himself to pull away, while you pouted slightly at the loss. but to quickly make up for it, he grabbed ahold of your hand. "c'mon, time to go save the galaxy."

[nicksbestie]

hi! could you write one where reader is struggling with a fear food and chris helps her through it? extra fluff and gentle praise? thank you!!

Fear Food - C. Sturniolo

Summary : Recovery is hard, but your loving boyfriend is always there to help you <3

Warnings : Descriptions of disordered eating, mental health struggles

Word Count : 1005

Pairing : Chris Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : I loved this req <3 ty so much for being my first Sturniolo fic req!!

Mental health is an incredibly challenging thing, and when specific parts of it wreaked havoc on your life, it was even more difficult to bounce back from that. All mental health issues were challenging, but some of them had affected you more than anything. You had spent a long time dealing with an aggressive eating disorder, and even years later, you were still recovering from the effects of it, and still going through difficult patches in your life. You considered yourself in the healing process, and lucky for the fact that you had made it out of the most dangerous portion of it, but that didn’t mean that it was completely gone. 

You still had a lot to recover from, a lot of misconstrued thoughts and ideas that hadn’t completely left you yet, but you were slowly getting there. However, that meant that there were still a lot of things that had the potential to send you back into a dark spiral, and that included a lot of fear foods that you hadn’t gotten back into the habit of eating without letting yourself slip back into a bad moment. You were slowly tackling them, trying a new one every so often, because it took a lot of courage and could take a lot out of you to try and overcome that. 

You had a good support system now, and didn’t feel as alone as you did when you were in the depths of your disorder. And you made sure that you never took them for granted, because they were a big part of the reason that you kept going and kept trying to get better, kept continuing on that path of healing. Your boyfriend and his family had rallied around you from the second that they had found out, knowing that you didn’t have that support system from your own family, and they had never let you feel alone in your struggles. Your struggles weren’t broadcasted, of course, but you were supported in every way that they possibly could, despite not completely understanding what you were going through. 

Your boyfriend had promised with his entire heart that he was never going to let you go through anything like this on your own, and that he was going to do everything possible to keep you from having to deal with it at all, no matter what he had to do. And he had upheld that promise with everything in him, making sure that he was always next to you when you needed him, a comforting hand holding yours if it was necessary, a gentle reminder that he was always there for you. He was an absolutely amazing human being, and sometimes you had no idea how you had managed to be so incredibly lucky. He was nothing short of an angel, and he did everything he could for you, no matter what he had to sacrifice. 

He had kept that promise, and was still continuing to keep it, as he sat next to you at the kitchen table, a hand gently caressing the back of yours with his thumb, arm wrapped around your shoulders as he side hugged you close to him. You weren’t speaking very much, simply staring at the drink in front of you, quietly building up the courage to move towards it. You had gone out for dinner, and Chris had gently suggested going out for milkshakes afterwards. You had been a little anxious about it at first, and he had promised that it wouldn’t be a big deal if you didn’t want to go, and he would only do what you were comfortable with. However, he also knew that you were trying to tackle another fear food soon, and this seemed like one that he could definitely tackle with you. Eventually, after thinking about it for a while, you agreed, still a little tentative, but willing to try it with him by your side. 

You had gotten the smallest size, not quite ready for anything more than that, and you had decided to take it home instead of eating it there, since the ice cream shop wasn’t too far, and you’d feel safer in a familiar setting. So that was how you got to this point, silently trying to work up the courage to actually drink the shake before it melted too much. Chris was kind, soft with you, speaking for the both of you as his arm around your shoulders helped you stay grounded. 

“I know it’s terrifying, baby, but you can do it. If you don’t want it, or aren’t ready, we can put it in the freezer and try again another day.” 

You shook your head, sighing before reaching for the cup. 

“No, I do want it, it’s just… I’m anxious about it. But I want it.” 

He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head, sliding the cup forward to meet your hand. 

“I understand that. You deserve this, honey. You don’t have to finish it if it’s too much for you, we can always save it. Your body deserves this, baby.” 

You really didn’t know how you had been so lucky to win such a supportive boyfriend, one who told you that you were strong, perfect, and amazing multiple times a day, but you hoped on everything that you’d get to keep him around permanently. Finally starting to drink the milkshake you’d gotten, the smile that broke out on Chris’ face was enough to make you smile back at him. 

You didn’t finish it, but you drank about half, and when you decided you were done with it for the night, Chris set it in the freezer before coming back to the table. 

Placing his hands on either side of your face, he pressed a kiss to your forehead before pressing one to your lips, moving one hand to hold your own. 

“I am so proud of you.” 

Quickly kissing him back before pulling off, your smile stayed on your face. 

“Me too. Thank you.”

~ taglist : @blahbel668 @mattsgirlfrieeend @69isabella69 @mayhem-72 @iculdstealurgf @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturnioloslife @heartsforkarina @nervousrebelglitter @sturniclo @elliegrace-7 @mattsturnioloisbae

~ if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here!

~ my inbox is open, come chat!!

[dee-writes-angst]

DAFFODILS (Chapter One)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY The Spring Court has gone to shit, and while you would normally be able to tolerate it, the new discovery that you were pregnant pushes you to the gates of The Autumn Court and unknowingly into Eris' arms.

CONTENT WARNINGS pregnancy, Eris being a slight douche (you know how it is yall), violence (reader is kicked in the stomach), and mentions of Tampon (Tamlin).

AUTHORS NOTE who's excited for the kick-off of yet another series? I am! Of course, I had to start an Eris series, I love him too much not to! Strap in, darlings, I have a feeling this is going to be a long one.

SERIES MASTERLIST

The once vibrant Spring court had gone to shit, a shadow of its former glory. Tamlin, the once revered and compassionate High Lord, had vanished, abandoning his people to suffer in the decay his negligence had allowed to fester.

Amid the desolation, there were attempts to salvage what remained of the Spring Court. Lucien's name surfaced as one who strove to preserve our home. I recall his desperate sacrifice on Calanmai, offering himself to Ianthe in a futile bid to rescue us. He still occasionally visits, perhaps clinging to a hope that he might stumble upon signs of revival, our High Lord restored to his former benevolence. Yet each return only reinforces the stark reality of our decline, leaving him unsurprised by the sight of our dwindling realm.

And now, here I stand, just beyond the borders of the Autumn Court, clad in nothing but the ragged remnants of my escape, imploring the impassive sentries to grant me sanctuary within their walls. They offer no response, their stoic countenances unmoved as I plead and weep at their feet.

In my disheveled state, I must present a pitiful sight—my attire threadbare and stained, my once-glamorous countenance marred by streaks of dirt and smudged cosmetics, my limbs adorned with bruises like macabre adornments.

As I teeter on the brink of desperation, a voice cuts through the stillness, emerging from the depths of the forest to my right. The guards snap to attention at its sound, their posture stiffening even further, if such a thing were possible, in deference to its commanding presence.

"What is the meaning of this?" The voice, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade, belonged to a man with cascading locks of fiery hair, who strode forth from the underbrush with an air of regal authority.

Gods, he was a vision to behold. Despite the earthy stains marring his attire and the tousled state of his tunic sleeves, he exuded an otherworldly allure.

"A mere denizen of the Spring Court, attempting to beg her way into our domain, my lord," one of the guards grumbled, offering a curt bow before callously nudging me aside with his boot. I winced as the blow landed squarely in my stomach.

"And what, pray tell, do you think you are doing, you imbecile!" The fiery-haired man's voice dripped with disdain as he strode forward, confronting the offending guard with palpable fury. "Can you not discern her condition, you fool? She carries life within her."

My heart lurched as I instinctively cradled my abdomen, a protective gesture born of maternal instinct. Though every fiber of my being yearned to retaliate against the guard's callousness, I forced myself to breathe deeply, refusing to succumb to the animalistic urges that society expected of Spring Court members in these desperate times.

"Are you alright?" the man inquired, his amber eyes ablaze with a captivating mix of concern and authority, their gaze so intense that it stole the very air from my lungs.

"I'm… I'm fine," I managed to utter, brushing aside the tangled strands of hair obscuring my face and inhaling deeply to steady my frayed nerves.

"I must apologize for the behavior of my soldier. Rest assured, appropriate measures will be taken, my lady," the man assured me, his smile radiant as he inclined his head with graceful deference. His charm nearly brought a wry laugh to my lips.

"No need for such formalities," I replied weakly, the weight of my displaced status as a refugee gnawing at my throat like a persistent ache. But I steeled myself with the thought of my unborn child, a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. "I am no longer a lady—well, not in the traditional sense, anyway."

"How so?" the man persisted, his expression a blend of curiosity and genuine concern, prompting me to draw my arms tighter around myself.

"I find it quite audacious for someone whose name I don't even know to ask such personal questions," I retorted, feigning a hint of indignation that rang hollow even to my own ears.

"Fair point," he conceded with a charming grin, though his adherence to formality still grated on my nerves. "Allow me to rectify that oversight. My name is Eris. Eris Vanserra, Heir to the Autumn Court," he declared, and I felt a strange mixture of relief and weariness wash over me at his introduction.

Eris. Lucien had spoken sparingly of his older brother during his time in the Spring Court, but whenever he did, a profound sense of affection tinged with melancholy colored his words. I shook myself from my reverie, extending a hand in a gesture of polite acknowledgement as I reciprocated with my own name. Eris repeated my name softly, testing it on his tongue, and my heart twinged at the striking resemblance in mannerism between him and Lucien, one so distant yet familiar, the other painfully close.

"Now," Eris began, his hands making a smooth, sweeping gesture that hinted at his readiness to delve deeper into the matter at hand, "what brings you to the borders of the Autumn Court, my lady?"

"The Spring Court is…" My voice faltered, and I let out a weary sigh, my hand instinctively resting on my still-flat stomach for comfort.

"It's gone to shit," he finished for me, his smirk sharp but not unkind.

"Well, I wouldn't have phrased it quite so bluntly, but yes," I responded, my fingers tracing small circles over my abdomen. "That place and its ruler are no fit environment for a child. Considering the proximity of your court, I was hoping I might find a new beginning here."

"What about the father?" Eris inquired, one eyebrow—a mirror image of Lucien's—arching skeptically.

I clear my throat awkwardly and look at my well-worn shoes. How does one tell the Heir to the Autumn Court that they are pregnant with his youngest brother's babe? How does one also explain how he is mated to another female, that they knew as soon as that brother found out about said babe, he would give up all hope to find his true mate in order to be there for his child?

"Not in the picture," I manage to say, my voice faltering slightly as I reach up to scratch the back of my neck, a gesture betraying my discomfort.

Eris hums, a low, thoughtful sound that vibrates with suspicion, his striking eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes my uneasy demeanor. The weight of his gaze feels like it could peel back the layers of my hastily constructed defenses, compelling me to confront truths I'd rather leave unspoken. Eris's scrutinizing gaze doesn't waver, and the silence stretches taut between us like a bowstring. "Not in the picture," he echoes thoughtfully, each word heavy with the promise of unasked questions.

I nod, feeling the weight of the moment settling around us. The air in the forest seems to hold its breath, the usual whispers of leaves and distant calls of woodland creatures falling into a hushed reverence. "And you must understand, my lord, that my child is my utmost priority," I assert with unwavering resolve, emphasizing his title with a hint of disdain, as if challenging the very foundations of our unequal stations.

The guards stationed behind me draw in sharp, anticipatory breaths, seemingly prepared for their lord to mete out swift retribution for my boldness. I steel myself against the expected blow, a silent rehearsal of defiance.

Yet, the expected strike does not materialize. Instead, Eris regards me with what could only be described as admiration. His gaze, intense and calculating, appraises me not as a threat, but as a formidable presence in my own right.

"Well, little fox," he begins, his voice carrying a playful undertone that belies the depth of his contemplation. He strokes his chin thoughtfully, his fingers tracing the lines of his jaw as if to physically underline his ponderings. "It appears you've presented quite the compelling argument for yourself here."

The use of "little fox" — a term perhaps meant to denote cunning and resilience — sparks a flicker of amusement within me, mixed with a surge of cautious optimism. His demeanor suggests a blend of challenge and respect, hinting at a dynamic that could evolve beyond mere formalities or supplications. This man before me is not just the heir to a court; he is a strategist weighing his next move.

"You seek shelter for yourself and the babe?" Eris inquires with a hint of slyness, as if to subtly test my resolve, though it's a point I've already made abundantly clear.

"Indeed," I retort sharply, refusing to waver under the weight of his penetrating gaze.

"Then shelter you shall have," he declares, pivoting on his heel to fix the guards with a stern glare. "You will allow her passage," he commands, his tone uncompromising. The guards, obedient to their lord's decree, quickly acquiesce, parting to allow me entry with a mere flick of Eris's wrist.

The heady scent of spices and autumnal freshness assaults my senses as I approach the threshold, beckoning me forward with its tantalizing allure. It's as if the very essence of this court implores me to embrace my true purpose, to seize control of my destiny without hesitation. The boldness of it all catches me off guard, stirring a sense of rebellion that courses through my veins like wildfire.

Pausing at the threshold, I find myself suspended between the tranquility of the wilderness behind me and the vibrant chaos of the court ahead. I hesitate, grappling with the weight of the choices that lie before me.

Eris slows his stride beside me, as if attuned to my uncertainty, and extends his arm—an offering both courteous and suggestive. His demeanor exudes confidence and assurance, as if he expects me to surrender to his lead without question.

But I refuse to yield to the expectations of courtly decorum. Chin held high, I meet his gaze with unwavering resolve, ignoring the disheveled state of my attire as I assert my independence. My feet remain firmly planted, refusing to advance until I am ready, on my own terms.

Eris's arm lingers in the air for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his features at my defiance. His amber eyes search mine, silently probing, yet beneath the scrutiny, I detect a glimmer of curiosity and… respect.

"I am quite capable of managing on my own," I declare, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging within me.

His expression softens, and he nods, gracefully retracting his arm. "As you wish," he concedes, gesturing for me to take the lead as we finally step through the threshold together.

The walk through the streets of Autumn was like stepping into a painting come to life. The cobblestone pathways wound gracefully between quaint buildings adorned with intricate carvings and vibrant splashes of ivy. Overhead, colorful banners fluttered in the gentle breeze, their designs depicting scenes of seasonal splendor and courtly festivities.

Stands and stalls lined the streets, each one a miniature wonderland of treasures waiting to be discovered. From intricately woven tapestries to gleaming trinkets and baubles, the offerings were as diverse as they were captivating. Merchants called out to passersby in melodious voices, their wares displayed with care and pride.

The smells that wafted through the air were a symphony of sensory delights. Spices mingled with the scent of freshly baked bread, their fragrances intermingling in a tantalizing dance that made my mouth water. Roasted chestnuts crackled and popped over open fires, their warm, nutty aroma floating on the breeze alongside the sweet perfume of ripe fruit and fragrant flowers.

Eris's sudden change in direction pulled me from my reverie, my gaze following his lead as we approached a magnificent structure nestled within the heart of the Autumn Court. The Forest House loomed before us, its grandeur and mystique commanding attention as we drew nearer.

Surrounded by a wrought iron gate, the house stood as a bastion of elegance amidst the bustling streets. Tall trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches reaching out to embrace the ancient structure with a sense of reverence. Vines climbed the walls, their verdant tendrils weaving intricate patterns against the weathered stone.

The sight of the Forest House sent a shiver down my spine, a visceral reaction to the aura of power and mystery that seemed to emanate from its very core. It was as if the house held secrets untold, whispering tales of bygone days and forgotten legends to those who dared to listen.

"Wait!" I called out, the urgency in my voice halting Eris in his tracks. His steps faltered, and he turned to face me, a glint of amusement dancing in the depths of his eyes. The sunlight filtering through the canopy overhead cast dappled shadows across his features, lending an air of intrigue to his already enigmatic presence.

"Yes?" he inquired, his voice smooth and tinged with playful curiosity, his smirk hinting at secrets hidden just beneath the surface.

"What's going to happen to me? Where will I stay?" I blurted out, the fierce confidence I had summoned earlier dissipating like morning mist in the face of uncertainty. Nervously, I began to pick at my nails, the weight of the unknown pressing down upon me like a heavy cloak.

Eris regarded me with a knowing glint in his eyes, as if he had anticipated my question long before I had voiced it. "You will stay with me, of course," he replied simply, his voice carrying an air of nonchalance that belied the gravity of his words. There was a subtle confidence in his demeanor, a quiet assurance that spoke of his authority within the court.

I recoiled at his casual response, a surge of apprehension coursing through me. "But what about Beron? Won't he object to having a… a lowborn in his household?" I ventured cautiously, the weight of his father's disapproval looming like a specter in the back of my mind.

"Nonsense," Eris scoffed, his arms crossing over his chest in a dismissive gesture. "You are now a member of this court, and given your condition," he added with a subtle nod towards my abdomen, "it is only fitting that you reside in more suitable accommodations." His words were tinged with a hint of defiance, a silent challenge to anyone who would dare question his authority.

Despite his reassurances, doubt gnawed at the edges of my mind, uncertainty clouding my thoughts like a thick fog. "Absolutely not!" I protested vehemently, a surge of protectiveness coursing through me as I instinctively placed a hand over my stomach, as if to shield my unborn child from the absurdity of Eris's suggestion. "I refuse to stay in your chambers, Eris. It's… it's utterly preposterous."

Eris's eyebrow lifted slightly, his gaze holding a hint of amusement mixed with something darker. "Stubborn, aren't we?" he remarked, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "But if you prefer to sleep on the streets, far be it from me to stand in your way."

His words, though seemingly casual, carried a sharp edge that hinted at the depth of his cunning. It was a subtle reminder of his position of power, a reminder that I was at his mercy whether I liked it or not.

I bristled at his thinly veiled threat, my jaw clenching as I met his gaze with a glare of my own. "You wouldn't dare," I challenged, though a flicker of uncertainty danced behind my eyes.

Eris's smirk widened, the glint in his amber eyes turning predatory. "Try me," he replied, his tone dripping with promise and menace in equal measure.

With a frustrated huff, I reluctantly relented, realizing that I was in no position to defy him. "Fine," I conceded through gritted teeth, my hand slipping from my stomach to clench into a fist at my side. "But don't expect me to thank you for it."

Eris's smirk softened into a smirk, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. "Who said anything about gratitude?" he mused, his voice low and husky. "I'm merely extending a courtesy to a fellow refugee."

His words were laced with sarcasm, a reminder that his generosity came with strings attached. It was a stark contrast to the charming facade he wore, a glimpse of the ruthlessness that lay beneath.

I swallowed hard, a bitter taste rising in the back of my throat as I followed him towards the Forest House. It was clear that my time in the Autumn Court would be far from easy, but as I glanced back at the crumbling ruins of the Spring Court behind me, I knew that I had no other choice.

As we reached the grand doors of the Forest House, Eris turned to me with a smirk. "Welcome to your new home, little fox," he remarked, his tone dripping with irony. "Try not to get too comfortable."

My brows furrowed at his words, suspicion creeping into my mind. "What's the catch?" I asked warily, narrowing my eyes at him.

Eris chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Though I do have one condition," he said, his smirk widening into a grin.

"And what is that?" I asked, a sinking feeling settling in the pit of my stomach.

"You must walk with me once a day for the duration of your stay," Eris declared, his tone teasing yet firm.

My jaw dropped in disbelief. "You're joking," I exclaimed, disbelief evident in my voice.

Eris's grin widened, his amber eyes dancing with amusement. "Do I look like I'm joking?" he retorted, his tone challenging.

I narrowed my eyes at him, a surge of defiance rising within me. "This is ridiculous," I protested, shaking my head in disbelief. "I won't be your captive audience."

Eris's expression softened, a hint of something unfamiliar flickering in his eyes. "It's not about being captive," he said softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Consider it… a chance to explore the court, to clear your mind. Besides," he added with a smirk, "I could use the company."

I bristled at his suggestion, my pride warring with my better judgment. "And if I refuse?" I challenged, crossing my arms over my chest.

Eris's smirk widened, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Then you'll miss out on some truly breathtaking views," he replied, his tone teasing yet earnest.

I sighed in frustration, realizing that I was fighting a losing battle. "Fine," I relented, though the words tasted like ash on my tongue. "But don't expect me to enjoy it."

Eris's grin widened into a smirk, his eyes alight with amusement. "Oh, I have a feeling you'll come to enjoy it more than you think," he remarked cryptically, before turning to lead the way into the Forest House.

As Eris escorted me to the grand Forest House, his steps were measured, exuding an air of regal confidence that was unmistakably his. His fiery locks seemed to dance with each movement, and his amber eyes held a glint of mischief, hinting at the cunning that lay beneath his charming exterior.

Upon entering my chambers, Eris's gaze swept over the room with a critical eye, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "I trust the accommodations meet with your approval, my lady?" he inquired, his voice smooth as honey but tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

I nodded, unable to suppress a smirk of my own at his thinly veiled jest. "They're quite lovely, thank you," I replied, matching his playful tone with one of my own.

Eris's smirk widened into a grin, his amusement evident in the curve of his lips. "Excellent," he remarked, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than strictly necessary before turning away to survey the room once more.

As I explored my new surroundings, I couldn't help but notice Eris's watchful gaze following my every move. It was as if he were sizing me up, gauging my reactions to the opulence that surrounded us. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye, a depth of character hidden behind his charming facade.

Spotting the single daffodil on the table near the window, I couldn't suppress a chuckle at the sight. It was a quintessentially Eris gesture—playful yet meaningful, a subtle reminder of our earlier exchange. I picked up the note beside it, the elegant script a testament to Eris's attention to detail.

"I will be seeing you real soon, little fox. Wouldn't want you slacking off on our daily walks now, would we?" the note read, the teasing tone perfectly in line with Eris's mischievous nature. I couldn't help but smile at his audacity, the unspoken challenge sparking a flicker of excitement within me.

Setting the note back down, I turned to find Eris watching me with a knowing smirk, his amber eyes alight with amusement. "I take it you approve of my choice of decor?" he quipped, the smirk widening into a grin as he met my gaze.

I rolled my eyes playfully, unable to suppress a laugh at his antics. "It's certainly… unique," I replied, the hint of sarcasm in my tone mirroring his own.

Eris chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "I'm glad to hear it," he replied, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than strictly necessary before turning away to hide the flush that crept across his cheeks.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd

[elaemae]

What did Og!Cale sacrifice?

Genuine question...

Hear me out;

I'm reading the latest chapter of 'In an Instant' by Messy_haired_bum and something just clicked in my head.

See, I know that the Og!Cale is a fan favorite, something that I didn't really understand because we don't know a whole lot about the guy, but there's just something that's been stopping me from getting enamored with him via various fanfictions I've read even though they've made the Og!Cale very lovable, and I didn't really know what it was, for a long time, until now.

There are various posts circulating around saying that Og!Cale sacrificed himself greatly with the deal he made with the GoD, and at a time, I believed that. But... reading this chapter opened my eyes and made me think, what did Og!Cale sacrificed?

What did he sacrifice that he didn't already lose?

A lot of ppl say that Og!Cale lost everything to be KRS but the only thing he had left was his identity. That's... not a lot to be honest. Not enough, actually.

Now, I can hear y'all thinking "Current!Cale got his wealth, backing, and a family–", but so did Current!KRS.

Current!KRS also didn't need to deal with a world war involving a megalomaniac, entire enemy nations, and a literal divine being.

Og!Cale was a foot soldier for 40 years, most likely didn't help a lot against Arm and The White Star, and he died without any (known) great feats but he's given such an amazing opportunity to take over the body of someone that'll need to deal with all those problems? An opportunity of rebirth that even Lee Soo Hyuk wasn't given until he gave one up of his abilities to help seal a deity?

He knows he couldn't shoulder the burden of saving the world so he just... washed his hands off that responsibility... And then occupied the body of a high-ranking well-known individual to then go off and get a happy ending with his reincarnated mom.

As the excerpt above said, it's a win-win for him, he doesn't get soul-crushing responsibilities, he gets a high-ranking position that grants him power, he can deal with the learning curve due to being given Og!KRS's abilities and having an actual reliable guide, and he gets to be back with his mom.

And...

... If Current!Cale ever fails?

He can just shrug and say it's not his problem anymore.

He's got his new happy life now. (I'm not saying he will, I'm just saying he could, if he was a lesser man)

Current!Cale lost everything he had too, all the fruits of his labors, the results of him dealing with all sorts of issues and problems for years, just... taken away by a stranger in his body. You can say KRS!Cale wasn't really happy, that Og!Cale didn't know if the body he'll end up in would be okay, that he gambled with his life in taking over Og!KRS's life.

Life that... he was about to lose anyways.

It just wasn't fair...

If we ignore the fact the KRS!Cale is literally thriving and just look subjectively at the situation of the body switch, KRS!Cale got the short end of the bloody, hellish, rotting stick.

I can only get closure if I personally find out if Og!Cale ever gave a fuck about the uninvolved, innocent guy that he sent to deal with a 20 year war, and not in the 'Is he doing the saving he's supposed to?' typa way, I want to find out if he ever feels guilty of the responsibility that he gave the man, if he ever worries for KRS!Cale's personal safety and mental health, for putting an innocent man through war. An innocent man that couldn't just stand by, as the world he found himself in, burns around him.

I don't want to dislike the current KRS, I want to love him actually, but this is my current perspective on the matter and you guys are free to share yours so that I can broaden my mindset about Og!Cale (pls do, I wanna like the guy but I wanna know if he's a good guy first, I wanna know why ppl love him so I can love him as well)

[holylulusworld]

Indecent Proposal (19)

Summary: Your boyfriend wants to be part of their empire. You are the pawn he’s willing to sacrifice.

Pairing: Mobster!Stucky x fem!Reader

Warnings: established Stucky, caring mobsters, pregnant reader, polyamory, fluff, romance

Indecent Proposal (18.2)

Indecent Proposal masterlist

“I must inform you, that this is a commitment ceremony, with no legal backing. It’s not a real wedding,” the celebrant clears his throat to get your attention.

You’re busy staring at your men, a big grin on your face. They mirror your smirk and chuckle as you ignore the man in front of you.

“It’s a wedding as we say so,” Bucky grunts. “Legal or not, Y/N will become our wife. Period. Now do your job. We pay you a fucking lot of money for it.”

“Aw, you made Bucky mad,” you grab Bucky’s hand and squeeze it. “You look very handsome today, Mr. Barnes.”

“What about me?” Steve flashes you a stunning smile. His heart flutters exactly the way it did the day he married the love of his life, Bucky.

“You’re always stunning, Mr. Rogers,” you wink at Steve. “Today, you are even hotter.”

“Uh-huh,” Bucky purrs your name and wiggles his eyebrows. His playful mood makes you giggle. “This scream for a hell of a wedding night.”

“I bet you can’t wait to get me out of the dress,” you giggle and slap Bucky’s chest when he tries to kiss you. “Not before you said yes.”

Bucky quirks a brow. He smirks and pounces on you to cup your face. Mouthing ‘Yes’ Bucky smirks against your lips. “Now, you must say yes.”

“Yes,” you breathe against his lips. “I want to be your and Steve’s wife and do dirty things with you for the rest of my life.”

“How about we focus on the ceremony now,” Steve looks down at his body. “I didn’t choose to wear a tuxedo today for nothing. I want to marry our beautiful bride.”

Bucky wraps his arm around your middle and kisses your ear. “What do you say, doll? Do you want to make Steve happy and marry his sexy ass?”

“I think I can do that,” you smirk at Steve. “Come here, big guy. I wanna get a better look at you, Stevie. You look so handsome today.”

“All for you, doll,” Steve cups your face to press a kiss to your forehead. “You look beautiful yourself, Y/N.”

“We came here together to witness the union of James Buchanan Barnes, Steven Grant Rogers, and Y/N Y/L/N. They love each other dearly and want to take the next big step in their relationship.”

You almost giggle at the celebrant’s serious expression. He continues his speech while you can’t wait to wear their ring and dance with your husbands.

It doesn’t matter to you that your marriage isn’t legal or that your ceremony does not provide any special rights or privileges for you and your men.

All that matters is that the men you fell in love with hold your hands and whisper sweet words in your ear while the celebrant bores you with his speech.

“Steven Grant Rogers. James Buchanan Barnes. You are already a loving couple and share a profound bond,” he continues. “Do you want to take Y/N Y/L/N to your wife and let the love you planted months ago grow?”

Bucky suppresses a snort, but he squeezes your hands. “I do.”

Steve is less subtle. He rolls his eyes. This is the worst speech he ever heard, but he doesn’t want to ruin the ceremony for you. All that matters is that you are here with him and Bucky.

“I do,” Steve says after a short pause. You held your breath for a second, fearing Steve would change his mind.

“Phew, I feared you want to play runaway bride,” you joke and wink at the celebrant. “All is good. He’s all in.”

The man huffs and drops his eyes to his notes. This is the least romantic ceremony he ever witnessed. You’re a sassy brat, and your soon-to-be husbands are horny bastards staring at your grown tits.

“Y/N Y/L/N, you are their third, the missing piece they finally found. You’re more than they ever wished for. Do you want to join their bond and become their wife?”

You sniffle. “I do.”

“Aw, baby doll,” Bucky coos and wipes your tears with his thumb. “Don’t cry.”

“It’s just…I’m so…happy…and” you choke on your tears. “I’m having your babies, and your cocks are so good. How can a woman not cry knowing you will dick her down for the rest of her life.”

“Naughty as always,” Steve laughs. “We should come to an end, don’t you think.” He looks at the celebrant.

“Yes…yes,” the man says. “James Buchanan Barnes. Steven Grant Rogers. Y/N Y/L/N. You came a long way and decided to go the rest of the way together. I’m honored to be the one declaring your husbands and wife.”

You choke out a sob.

“You told me before the ceremony that you have prepared a speech, miss Y/L/N. Please speak now.”

You nod and take a deep breath. “I…when you stepped into my life I was at my lowest. I couldn’t believe what happened to me, and my life. But you Steve,” you look at Steve and smile, “and you Bucky,” you turn your head to look at Bucky, “showed me what love, and devotion mean. I promise to love and cherish you, and to support you in all of life's ups and downs, today, tomorrow, and always.“

Steve and Bucky sniffle. Bucky barely can hold back the tears as you continue.

“I carry your future, and you are holding mine in your hands. I hope the feeling you give me will never fade. I love you, and the wonder you helped me create.”

“Fuck doll,” Bucky sniffs. 

“Same,” Steve tries to keep it cool but fails. 

“Oh, and I want to do dirty things for the rest of our lives with you…”

Now they laugh, and you join them. You giggle and snort, and even the celebrant joins your laughter.

This wasn’t the most romantic ceremony, but you wouldn’t want to change a thing. To you and your men, it was perfect.

“Phew…yeah. That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen…” You nod to yourself. “Do it again, Stevie. Give it to him good.”

“Doll, this is dancing, not sex,” Steve tuts while you pout at him. “Come here and join us.” He holds out his hand. 

“My feet hurt,” you whine and hop off the couch. Steve, Bucky and you danced for half of the night. Now you only want to crawl into bed and cuddle the hell out of your newlywed husbands.

“One last dance,” Bucky licks his lips as you kick your shoes off. He looks at your bare feet when you slowly walk toward them. “Fuuck…” He imagines you barefoot and heavily pregnant.

“Okay,” you take Steve’s offered hand. “One last dance…”

Part 20

Tags in reblog.

[constantinerkives]

The Model and the Muse // YJM, one-shot

PAIRINGS: Model! Karina x Non-celeb fem reader WARNINGS: Established relationship, secret relationship - well, not anymore IG, jealousy haha, Karina is FERAL for you in a soft way, territorial Rina, soft ending, I think that's pretty much it A/N: I based this on a prompt submitted to me:

You asked, I shall deliver <3

When you care for someone - love someone, sacrifices are made. 

You just weren't informed that one of those sacrifices would be telling the world that you love her. Enter Karina Yoo, one of the highest-paid models in the European Fashion Houses, mainly Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, and Loius Vuitton. 

She courted you three years ago, she was a rising star, and you were just a junior stylist. And you said yes to becoming her lover a year ago before her agency hired her as a model, and to your amusement and irritation, her 'fans' abhor the concept of dating when it comes to her. They're allergic to that term. But that didn't stop the older woman from sneaking out to see you, sending you gifts even when both of you were busy with Fashion Week. 

So for your safety and hers (not to mention her career), you two decided to keep it a secret until the crowd becomes more forgiving. 

It's challenging - especially when the media and the public are fixated on her.

Do you know what else is challenging? 

Remain composed whenever someone blatantly flirts with her. 

Who can blame them? Your lover is a beautiful woman - beautiful is an understatement. She's like a goddess reincarnated as a human, blessed with elegance, wit, and grace. You thank the universe for blessing you with her, but you pray to the universe to give you patience and not strength whenever someone tries to shoot their shot because if the universe grants you strength; you might jam your powder blush brush into their neck. But there's nothing you can do about it. It was your agreement with her, so you learned to live with it because every time someone tried after the event, Karina would reciprocate, but her words were empty, and you'd share an irritated glance before she excused herself to an isolated room, signaling for you to follow and the next thing you know your back is pressed against any firm surface, and her lips are molding against yours, her perfume will infiltrate your sense of smell and her scent would linger on you for a while before she'd get out of the room looking fresh as if she wasn't ravaging your lips and your neck two minutes ago. 

Even so, you tried to keep your interactions minimum knowing that when you two slip away from the buzz of both the media and the public, Karina Yoo transforms; gone is the practiced persona of Givenchy, YSL, and LV's brand, replaced by a much simpler girl, Yoo Jimin; who loves dinosaurs and cuddling you until both your body temperature becomes unbearable. 

Your ears perked upon hearing the keypad of your rented apartment in Paris beeping. Giddy, a smile breaks past your lips, and you hastily turn off the stove before rushing to the living room. She's home. A soft laugh falls from her lips the moment your body comes in contact with hers. Soon, you feel her lean arms wrap around your figure, flushing you against her front. 

"Oh," You inhale her favorite scent, pressing your nose against the skin of her neck that's exposed by her white, button-down shirt. Top notes of blackberry, releasing an instant burst of juiciness, natural blackcurrant buds, and a fruity, slightly tart scent. Heart notes of bay leaves, and base notes of Cedarwood. "How I've missed you." 

"I miss you too," She whispers, low and husky. Her breath fans your lips as soon as you pull away to hold her delicate face. "How're the rehearsals for the Fashion Week?" 

Jimin closes her eyes and leans into your warmth, "Tiring," She then opens her eyes and peers over your shoulders. "What's for dinner?"

"Steak tartare and onion soup." You answer with a grin and gently massage her jaw. "Go get changed. I'll prepare the dishes." 

"Yes, ma'am." Your lover obeys before pecking your lips, taking her messenger bag, and disappearing into your shared room. You watched her with a fond smile and began preparing the plates. 

In Paris, there are fewer eyes, few are aware, and maybe you hope they won't care. Jimin, being an A-list model, used her privileges and bought an apartment that's private and near the venue for their Fashion Week. With this, she can go home in peace and be with you every day and night. But that doesn't stop you from staying careful, but you're glad for small mercies like this one. 

"I'll be starting the event," She tells you with a gleeful smile while she takes a spoonful of onion soup and hums in delight. "Damn, this tastes good!"

A bemused laugh falls off your lips as your eyes watch her fondly while she recounts the events that happened during her rehearsals. "Oh, don't you know - I'm going to wear Nicolas Chesquière's pieces! Oh, you should have seen them-" 

She stops upon looking up to see you looking at her warmly. Her cheeks subtly turn pink, and she sheepishly puts down her spoon. "Oh, I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

You giggle at her, "No, no," You shake your head sideways. "Keep talking. I like your voice." Your lover giggles in return before sighing heavily, "You'll be there in the event, right? I mean, as our designated stylist?"

"Of course," You reach out for her hand, "Where you go, I go - it's part of the job, Jiminnie." She smiles softly, "Then can you stay after the event?"

"For what?" 

"A party, honey." 

You blink at the older woman, "I - have nothing to wear, Jimin - you know those parties are full of elites and socialites. I'll look out of place." 

The latter's face becomes serious, "No, no you won't. You'll match with me during the party, Y/N." You incline your head at her notion as she gracefully stands up from her seat and walks to your shared bedroom. 

"Karina?" You furrow your brows and follow after her, "What are you doing?"

The hinges of the door allow you to push them smoothly and see the raven-haired beauty holding up a huge Loius Vuitton shopping bag, and she's holding two of them.

Your jaw slacks as she holds them out to you with a beaming grin, "I bought these for you." 

"Jesus," You mutter as you slowly approach the model, "Are you for real?"

"You want to see them? They're ready to be released tomorrow, but the creative director allowed me to choose." She pauses, "I also got the one for your size, don't worry; I picked them alone in the production room." Her soft brown eyes traverse to the shopping bag, "Take it, my love. I picked them just for you."  

With tentative hands, you take the bag from her and open it under her expectant gaze as she sits at the edge of the bed. You open it carefully, and you nearly drop the bag. 

The coat Jimin chose for you is a white, elegant, double-breasted coat. A white nautical leather accent ribbed coat, "You can use the relaxed-fit shirt for the top." 

You caress the soft fabric of your shirt before gently placing it on top of the bed, Karina giggles at your action as you move your attention to your second bag. It's just as big as the first one.

"Laureate desert boots," Karina grins as you examine the article on footwear. "It's beautiful," You mumbled before looking at her, slacked-jawed. The latter subtly blushes and sheepishly scratches the nape of her neck. "What about yours, though?" You inquire, and she replies with a wink. "You'll see it after the event."

You place your index finger against your chin as if you were thinking as your eyes dart from the attire and your lover, who looks at you softly with a smile before finally giving in. "Alright, after all, it would be a shame if I don't flaunt this newly released piece." 

That pleased the raven-haired model as she got up from the bed, and unexpectedly lifted you by the hips and spun you around. That is always her reaction whenever you'd agree to join her for the after-party of the event. 

"Thank you," She says breathlessly after putting you down, warmth spreads through your body as you cup her right cheek and massage it softly with your thumb. "Seeing you there means a lot to me." 

She leans in for more and closes her eyes as you whisper to her, vow to her:

"Anything for you, my love." 

"Girls! You have fifteen minutes before we need to bring the models backstage! Hurry up!"

A hiss leaves your lips as you run from stall to stall, helping distribute their pieces for the runway. "Hey! Watch it!" One of the staff members snapped, but you didn't pay attention. Apologizing can come second. You need to do your job first, otherwise, the coordinator will have your head on a platter. 

As you approach the stock room for more articles of expensive clothing, you locked eyes with Karina who's being accessorized by her stylists, she sends you a small smile and you flash her yours before you return to work. 

"Fuck," One of your coworkers, Chaewon, cursed. 

"What?" You inquire the short-haired girl as she skims through the wardrobe. She looks at you apologetically. 

"I'm sorry, Y/N, I can multiply myself so," You chuckle at her words as she comes to you with a sealed LV box; jewelry. "Can you make sure that Yunjin wears this before she steps on the runway?"

Yunjin? As in The Huh Yunjin? The rumored nepo baby?

As if reading your thoughts, Chaewaon shoves the box against your chest, "Yes - that Yunjin, I'm so sorry, Y/N, I'm needed at the other department-"

"Chae," You raise an open palm, "No worries, now go. I'll take care of this." 

The short-haired girl smiles in relief before departing from you while you look for Huh Yunjin's fitting room. Huh Yunjin, standing at exactly 5'8, has black, long hair, and softer features, and has been part of the agency since she was 18 years old. Not to mention, a rumored nepo baby due to her father's connections and influence with the fashion industry he was a part of. 

 Your knuckles gently knock against Yunjin's fitting room. You hear a faint: "Come in!" 

Upon entering, you immediately spot the model being pampered by her make-up artist, her kind, bright obsidian eyes lock with yours through the reflection, and her plump, pink lips curl to a kind smile and raise her hand to stop her make-up, the latter obeys as she stands up to face you. Huh Yunjin is wearing LV's Inverted Mahina Monogram Shirt Dress and Donna high boots. She's stunning. 

"Hello, Miss Huh," You greet her with a bow before presenting her with the jewelry box, "I'm here to add finishing touches to your outfit before you hit the runway."

"Wonderful," She approaches you, the heels of her boots scraping against the marble floors as she walks towards you. "Can I see it, Miss?" She pauses as she holds your confused gaze. Then it clicks, she doesn't know you, and she needs to address you by your name as a stylist. 

"Ah," You flush, "I'm Y/N." You open the box to reveal her matching chain earrings and necklace. "Perfect," The model grins and takes a handful of her luscious, black hair and turns around, and lowers her height by bending her knees. 

"Can you help me with the necklace?"

"Sure," Gently, you put the box down and delicately take the necklace before opening the hook and letting it rest at the base of the model's slim neck before locking it in place. 

Yunjin turns around, and her collar is ruffled, "Oh," You click your tongue, "Let me fix that for you." 

The black-haired beauty obliges with a smile before bending her knees for you to fix her dress. "Stay like that, please." You tell her gently before taking the earrings and donning them on the gorgeous model. 

"There," You step back to admire your work, and Yunjin stands up and looks at her reflection. "Thank you, Y/N." Her make-up artist approaches her and hands Yunjin her petite handbag. "I've been meaning to ask since it's my first time seeing you here," The model begins, "What happened to Chaewon?"

"Oh, that," You examine her attire to see if there's anything out of place There was none. "She was called to another department to handle technical issues." You place a hand over your chest, " I came in her stead." 

 The latter hums, and your two-way radio beeps, garnering your attention. "Miss Lee, please bring Yunjin backstage ASAP." 

You look at her, "Time to go, Miss Huh." 

"Please, just address me by my first name: Yunjin. And can you accompany me backstage, Y/N? Just to see if my attire needs more fixing." 

An innocent request, and besides, she's a model so of course her attire as well as her appearance must be the top priority. "Sure, Yunjin, follow me." The taller woman obliges and follows you backstage where the rest of the models are stationed, hidden behind the velvet curtains of the runway stage. You can hear music blaring from the other side as LV's models go in and out backstage to change their attires. Immediately, your eyes spot Jimin talking to a male model with feminine features, Hwang Hyunjin. You know the man, him and his twin Yeji; both of them come from respectable backgrounds with a matching humble attitude. 

You trust them both with your secret lover. 

Your soft features twist to a scowl as you spot a familiar, arrogant face approaching her. 

Except him

Yunjin groans as she sees the man, or at least that is what you assumed before she confirms it. "Jeno is back for more." She whispers close to you, "But before I spread hate, you know about him, yeah? His reputation with female models?"

"Of course," You confirm as you ball your hands. "It's not difficult to believe them with a face like that." 

The model chuckles, and you turn to face her with an arched brow, "What?" She waves her hand dismissively, "Nothing Y/N. Let's say I like your vibe already." You hum and look back at your lover who's throwing him a strained smile. "Poor Karina, ever since she began modeling for Loius Vuitton, she became Jeno's fixation." 

"I agree," You mumble. Yunjin looks at you and hums. "Now that you've seen the designs, what's your favorite?"

The inquiry distracts you, and you tear your gaze from Jimin, "Designs?" You repeat as you look around before answering her. "Karina's, Kazuha's, and lastly," You gesture a hand at her dress, "Yours, or maybe because you're wearing it?" You playfully stated, and the model threw her head back with a soft laugh, eliciting the same reaction from you.

For a moment, your jealousy ebbs; you've gained a new friend.

And a few meters away from you two, Karina's eyes were focused on you. Her hearing blocks Jeno's nonsense while you and Yunjin laugh and move closer to each other and talk in hushed voices before giggling amongst yourselves. 

In three days, you and Yunjin became close. 

She wasn't hard to talk to, Yunjin is open-minded to various topics, and you two share the same expression whenever Jeno walks by. The other stylist picked this up as the model seems comfortable enough to cackle with you, and you cackle with her. You two are that close. 

Karina doesn't seem to mind, but she's mindful of how close you two are, especially with Yunjin's touchy persona to the people she's closest to. 

"Hey Y/N, it's Chae. Karina's stylist is going to be late. Can you file in for her?"

The mention of your lover's name perks you up, "Sure!" You clear your throat and change your tone to a neutral octave. "Sure,"

Giddy, you rushed to find Karina's fitting room. She didn't mention bringing anything, so you assumed that Karina was waiting for your guidance with her attire. Upon entering her fitting room, Karina is seen laying down on the sectional couch wearing a white bathrobe, her hair is slightly wet, and her eyes are closed. 

Smiling softly, you quietly approach the sleeping beauty. The event doesn't start in the next three hours, but as the coordinator said: The earlier, the better. They can nap afterward once they're done dressing up. 

You bend until your face is only centimeters apart, "Rina," You whisper, "Get up. You need to get ready." The older girl groans softly before opening one eye, "Y/N," She calls out softly before smiling, and before you know it, her arms are around your neck as she pulls you close to her, eliciting a yelp of surprise from you as you land on top of her firm body, Karina hums and entraps you with her arms as she hides her head in between your neck and inhales your scent. 

As much as you like being in her arms, this is a public venue. 

"Karina!" You whisper in alarm, "We'll get caught!"

The latter whine and presses soft kisses against the exposed expanse of your neck. 

"Karina!" You whisper more firmly, and she sighs. You relent, "Okay, okay. Five minutes."

Five minutes later, you two began to work. You waited patiently while the make-up artist adds finishing touches to her makeup, Karina kept her eyes closed while the latter works on her face. While that happens, you take secret photos of her and admire them. The camera doesn't do her justice as you examine her features. Soft brown eyes mapping her sharp, upturned nose, her small jaw, big, intelligent, sharp eyes, and Karina's soft lips. 

All of her: you memorized and fell for every day. 

"Okay, she's done." Declares the artist, "I'll get going now." She bows at Karina, "I have another model waiting for me." 

"It's fine," Karina assures, "Y/N will take it from here."

The artist didn't waste tie and immediately left the room. Karina smiles upon hearing the door click close as you approach the wardrobe and skim through its contents before setting your eyes on the white, tapered wool-crepe mini dress. "Perfect," You purr to yourself before turning to face her. Karina was already standing with her loose bathrobe. 

"This should look perfect on you," You then paused, "Who am I kidding, you look good in everything." 

The latter chuckles, "I'm flattered," She grins as you come close to her, "But the clothes are just accessories. I look better when I'm with you." 

Warmth spreads to your cheeks, and you playfully swat her shoulder, "Cheeky," You mused, "Change into this, and I'll get you boots-"

If your cheeks were pink, now they've turned red; Karina discarded her robe and allowed it to slip until it reached her shoulders. "Rina!" 

"What?" She shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, "You've seen me naked before. That shouldn't bother you." 

"We're in public," You hiss but make no move to cover her. Karina's lip curls to a smirk, "The way I see it, darling." She brushes her knuckles gently against your left cheek; you shudder at her touch. "It's just the two of us here, alone." 

"You wouldn't dare," You protested. The older woman grins, "I'm kidding. Help me change, baby." 

You grunt as she allows the robe to pool around her feet while you unzip the dress and help her don it. While you're busy fixing the dress, Karina just stares at you, shamelessly ogling as you correct her dress. 

"It'll last longer if you take a picture," You joked. Karina hums and grasps your waist, "Why would I need that when I see you every day and night?"

A small smile graces your lips, "You're right."

"And I have you in my bed," She leans close, "Satisfied with my warmth, my touch." Your brow raises at the innuendo. "Karina," 

"What?" She slyly queries, "I'm just stating a fact," 

"Behave," 

Her chest rumbles a low chuckle, causing your guts to churn as she rasps:

"Are you nervous?" She ghost her lips against the side of your face, her cold breath fans your skin. "It's just me, darling, there's nothing to be nervous about." 

"That's the thing," You whisper, your voice becoming weak when it comes to her. "God knows what you do whenever we're alone, and you're acting like this."

Your lover chuckles and assaults your neck with butterfly kisses. For a moment, you allow her to map your skin with her lips before she reaches yours. Her grip becomes tight, and she kisses you with ardent need, searing and unrelenting. And you allow her to do this. Your arms; still aware of the expensive fabric she's wearing, decided to wrap your arms around her neck and pull her closer. Both your lips move languidly against each other, swallowing each other's breaths until both of your lungs burn for oxygen. You were the first to pull away with a pant, Karina looks at you with a hooded gaze before swiping your lower lip with her thumb. 

"You're mine, Lee Y/N."

"And so are you," 

She grasps your jaw, "And I love you."

That caught you off-guard. Your heart swells, and you peck her lips. 

"I love you too, Yoo Jimin." 

"Good," She whispers before you lean away from her to get her ankle-length boots. 

Karina is a simple creature. If she sees you, she's happy. 

But if she sees someone being a little too friendly with you, she becomes territorial. 

She shouldn't be irritated when Yunjin's with you, from what she's heard and seen; Yunjin is a kind woman with a caring personality. She's touchy with the people whom she's close with. She shouldn't feel threatened, but every time Yunjin whispers a little too close for her liking, or whenever she fixes your clothes, something inside her threatens to snap. 

It feels all too intimate, all too soon. 

She grips the stem of her wine glass, courtesy of the aforementioned competition leading you to her friends by the small area of your back, wearing the coat she had picked for you before the Fashion Week began. 

Paris Fashion Week had just ended five hours ago, cue in the after-party - and you look gorgeous in your attire with your hair neatly combed and pressed. Gorgeous, and only she should be admiring you. She knows it's selfish, but that's what makes her human, to yearn for you and have you forever beside her, to tell the world - tell the goddamn world that she loves you. 

"Karina," Jeno's voice snaps her from her reverie, and a scowl threatens to show. "What is it, Jeno?"

"Now that the Fashion Week's over, I was wondering..." In her head, she blocks out his voice as she sees Yunjin's friends gather around you like a prized item. Her sight sharpens as Yunjin brushes your hair back with a smile. 

"She's been doing that frequently," The raven-haired beauty mumbles and sips her drink lightly while Jeno babbles incoherently. 

Yunjin leans in to whisper something in your ear once again, causing you to giggle and playfully swat her shoulder while the taller woman grins at you and takes you to another group. 

Before your lover can even think about her next action, her body gracefully follows you and Yunjin, no longer heeding the protest of the man as she keeps her eyes trained on you. 

Upon following you, she sees you conversing with a familiar group; Giselle, Winter, and the youngest of the bunch: Minji. You and Yunjin seem to be having fun conversing with them judging by the way your pleasant laugh falls from your pristine lips. She decides to listen before approaching.

"Lee Y/N?" Winter, the short-haired girl repeats, "Oh my god, I didn't recognize you in your outfit, you look good!" Karina smirks as she sips her drink. 

"Oh," You flushed, "Stop it,"

"It's true," Minji affirms, "You should wear clothes like that more, Y/N. It brings out the stylist in you." 

"If it does, then I'd be spending millions just to look the part." You joked, and the group laughs, even Karina, who chuckles. 

"Oh, don't worry about a thing," Yunjin grins, "If it makes you feel better, "I'll spoil you with such gifts." Karina's eye twitches. No, that's her job. 

The group lets out a loud "Oooh," 

"You know," Giselle slyly smiles, "If I hadn't known any better, I'd think you two are actually dating." You chuckle nervously while Yunjin hums, "Do you think we'd make a great couple if we are?"

Karina didn't dare let them finish, no. She stormed towards the group, muttering a rough: "Excuse me, I'll be taking her for a moment." And grabs you by the wrist, surprising you as she immediately whisks you away from them without waiting for a reply and leads you to the podium. 

"Jimin!" You whisper harshly to her, "What are you planning to do?"

She didn't say anything before she finally reaches the podium with you standing awkwardly next to her. She then garners the attention of the crowd by tapping on the mic while your eyes find Yunjin looking at the two of you, confusion etched on her beautiful face. 

"Hello, everyone. May I please have your attention?" Karina begins, and the crowd obliges in confusion and curiosity. "Jimin," You fidgeted, and she leaned away from the mic and looked at you fondly, "Let me do this, my love. Let me tell the world who you are to me."

Your posture relaxes, and you nod in agreement. Jimin felt elated; a nod from you is all she needs as you held her hand tightly. 

"Everyone," She grins and tightens her hold around your hand. "This is Lee Y/N, all of you may know her as a stylist - but she is my girlfriend." 

The crowd gasps and cheers and your girlfriend laughs. "And I want to tell everyone in this room that she is mine as I am hers. So to those who think she's single, she is not." The hall is mixed with the crowds' chuckles and murmurs. 

"That's all everyone, do enjoy your evening." She ends her announcement by moving your intertwined hands to her lips and pressing a kiss against the back of your palm mouthing: I love you.

And the day after, the world knew the two of you. From yearning glances and minimal brushes to proud stares and warm touches. 

You are hers as she is yours; the world finally knows this and accepts it or either ignores it, you don't care so long as they know that the two of you belong to each other:

The Model, and her Muse. 

Fin.

[circinuus]

super secret special edition SSS!

husband! jing yuan x fem pronouns reader. 1.5k words

everyone lives with secrets, even you. it's about time your husband unearths the things you've been so adamant to conceal.

[crossposted in ao3]

Tingyun knows the secret of the trade as much as she knows to keep her benefactor’s secrets.

Tourists from afar, far-reaching emissaries, foreign merchants. Secrets are both poison and leverage for all, and you are aware the amicassador does not exclude even you from this unspoken adage.

“Oh? It's Lady (Name)~ This Tingyun is always pleased to do business with my lady.”

“Tingyun…” you eyeball the tapestry hanging behind her. The Exalting Sanctum is generous with its pleasant chill. No one bats an eye as you fiddle with your warm coat that almost functions as a discreet (you hope) hood.

The worry lingers either way. A secret is both a poison and a leverage, still.

“Ah! apologies,” Tingyun's words do not match her delighted clap. “My lady—Lady Benefactor has always had many things to say of the General. This Tingyun has been swept over by your admirable enthusiasm and became clumsy with her words! Please forgive her.”

Clumsy my tail!

You were never a possessive lover. Let alone an obsessive one. It simply happens that you are not the General's spouse, but his lovely, supportive, very enthusiastic spouse.

Overheard in the Seat of Divine Foresight Gardens, an old story dictates: one may call the General’s name three times. If all is in the same breath of a praise, Lady (Name) will appear behind you, hold your hand, and talk with exuberance as she sits you down in Sleepless Earl. If all is in the same breath of a meaningless insult, she will appear with a metal coated fan to cool you down.

Which, in essence, is not untrue. And by extension, Tingyun's remark is not wrong either. But still.

“In any case,��� you cough into your fist. It’s a shame that your palm is empty of the gilded hand fan Jing Yuan gifted you on your last anniversary. But business calls for sacrifices. You need your hands, preferably empty. Thus, the fan sits await in your shared abode for the span of your little excursion.

“Do you have the good stuff?”

“Certainly, Lady Benefactor,” Tingyun reciprocates your whisper, “I have the special edition goods reserved only for my VIP patron...”

Walking past the meager amount of food stalls in the Exalting Sanctum, you feel grateful for the tuskpir roll and puffergoat milk you’ve secured during your trip to Aurum Alley.

Yes, Aurum Alley. Why took the trouble to meet Tingyun first? Well. You’ve already left your love's gift away from your person. You can’t possibly leave anywhere without at least one piece of your husband, can’t you?

“Hehehehe.”

A child turns his head, and his mother beckons him away from the odd stranger. With a furrowed brow, she tears her gaze as you giggle and caress the holographic, embossed picture of Jing Yuan’s side profile; taken from one of his public appearances.

The smooth surface of the print glints in the light. Golden eyes. Silver mane. Walking past Synwood Pavilion, it’s not never that your trance grants you a scratch or bruise from hanging pots and stairs unnoticed. But this time, a kind enough stranger pulls you away from the harm.

“Thank you—ouu?!!”

The sky falls, your blood runs tepid.

Not only do the stranger keep their hold on your arm, they take the momentum to pull you close and rest a palm on the slope of your waist.

“I have not seen you since this morning, and now you try to dispose of me?”

The sharp edge of the photo card in your hand stops by a breadth of the stranger's jugular. Staring back at you are a pair of familiar eyes as golden as a spring evening.

“A-Yuan?”

“My lady,” Jing Yuan words flow easily with his small laugh. He finds no struggle in grasping the hand hovering on his neck, and before you find the tact to hide the picture you posed as an instinctual weapon, he presses a tender kiss to your wrist.

…Oh.

“A- A-Yuan.” You parrot, throat scraping dry against your voice. “I thought Master Diviner Fu and Qingzu are keeping you for the day.”

Jing Yuan’s hand is still warm against your lower back. He shakes his head. “This self is not so young anymore, and this old man needs a moment’s rest, simply.”

???! Old man my foot!!!

Your eyes dart. Hiding the embossed photo card—which discreet nature is now questionable—remains tantamount. But Jing Yuan is as cunning as he is powerful. By deliberation or spontaneous display, he envelops your figure before you choose a step; warm curls tickling your jaw as he rests his head on your shoulder.

“Baobei—Jing Yuan, we’re still in public!-“

“I miss my beloved.”

Your dearest has always had a penchant for words of affection. Yet, there is a sliver of genuine fatigue in his voice, this time. Not as potent as the nights when he sought your embrace to stave away regrets and guilt of the past, but you know the shape of his ails better than anyone.

And this, for a moment, melts everything else. Sounds and colors dissolve. The world becomes nothing but him. Inconsequential; all but him.

Your lips soothe into a soft smile. Running your fingers through his pale curls, he breathes into your collarbone.

“Did you run away from the paperworks?”

“No, not this time.” His laugh tickles your neck. A sound reminiscent of Mimi’s purr. A beat, he stands straight to stare at your face before a gentle hand caresses your cheek.

“Matters have settled down early in the Seat of Divine Foresight. I rushed home to see my beloved, but fortune seems to favor my side this day.”

“Yes—well...” your tongue is heavy. Years of matrimony and you are still unable to keep up with his affections. Fortune favors your side, in fact. For this lifetime and for the next, you pray.

“I’m glad that things have settled,” you fiddle with the photo still nestled in your right hand. “I was out for a small excursion and was about to pick you up. I bought some treats as well.”

“My wife spoils me so.” You always liked the way he smiles. “Although I’d prefer my lady not get hurt and distracted in the streets, much less if I am the cause."

“What?”

Jing Yuan glances sideways, so you numbly follow his gaze.

Jumping at the realization, raw adrenaline forcibly pulls your hand behind your back, hiding the glow of the holographic photo card—special edition! Tingyun said. Though, who can deceive the Luofu Arbiter General?

You stand helpless when Jing Yuan gently reclaims your hand, slowly raising it from the shadows of your back. He hums at the glinting photo when his image is revealed for shared observation, and, to your surprise, spares no word but merely presses his lips to your knuckles.

“Fortune favors me, truly, to have such a loving beloved like you."

You make a face. Embarrassment, humor, then it all sheds to eventual amusement. You want to shake this man like a chewtoy. Turn him upside down. Rattle him.

"Since when?"

"A while."

You orchestrate a pout, "Why only tell me now?"

Jing Yuan humors you with a twinkle in his eye. "Why settle for a moment captured in time when the real one stands present before you?”

You pause.

A blink. A couple. A cycrane flies over the sky. As it departs to the horizon, so does your incredulous, airy laugh.

You made up your mind to take a strategic step backwards, putting away the photo. “Why? Are you jealous?”

“Perhaps.”

“You say that as if I didn’t notice you commissioning paintings of my image too, General”

Jing Yuan’s smile is mirthful. “So I have been caught.”

You giggle, and with or without your notice, Jing Yuan sucks in a quiet breath. An unsaid promise; another oath sworn into the silence to keep that smile safe. To ease all the tears that linger on your lashes. To soothe all the curved frowns bending your lips.

From the day he was a mere boy running late for his former teacher’s training, stumbling upon a little lady who, even then, was already brimming with a penchant for trinkets and sweets alike, to the years witnessing both of your growth, the awkward young years, the losses you both braved alone and in hand, your courtship, the day when he tied the strings of fate and bound himself to you for that day and forevermore. Even today, he had loved you. He still does, and always will.

His reverie gave you way to tiptoe and leave a ghost of a kiss to your dearest’s brow. Mimicking his frequent strategy of making a move before the adversary registers, you take his hand and lead him away from the eaved shadows of the Synwood Pavilion.

“Let’s go home, A-Yuan.”

Jing Yuan’s hand fit too perfectly, engulfing yours.

A breathless chuckle mixes with the bustle of the Exalting Sanctum; his steps pulled along with your trots. Although poor in concealment, with a series of gasps and amused murmur echoing at your wake, you pull him along to sneak through street corners and pavilions as if you are both young again. And for that moment, everything is right.

...

You’re still going to keep that holographic photo and keep it with the other stashes, though. After all, it's a super secret special edition SSS photo card!

i've been feeling lowkey anxious lately and this honk shoo mimimi man has been one of my crutches. I love him sm. legit cried at some point thinking about him zamn