#I thirst for this man.. parched even

[ni-kisno1fan14007]

….. *spits out water*

.. I desire that..

(this is gonna be me the moment I see Riki) ..hybe.. keep your gym doors wide open.. in fact pull off the doors altogether.. keep it available 24/7 for Nishimura Riki.. cause goddamn..

[tojisun]

!! bimbo f!reader; daddy kink; john’s pov // shiu’s version // dividers by @/plutism <33

john loves you so much; he loves spoiling you lots.

you're a sight for sore eyes, round and sweet, but that's not what only gets him going—you're kind to a fault, looking up at him all starry-eyed like he's not a bad man. like he's not broken and angry, and all mangled from within until it has him toying with people's moralities.

you curl in his arms, so giggly and bright, almost like you're unknowing of what he does, of what he's capable of, but you've always known better than anyone else. after all, john trusts no one more than he trusts you.

you are so, so lovely; stoking his desires, filling him up with this miasmic need that burns from within. he aches every time, so desperate to feel you. to touch you. to have one more taste because you've turned john insatiable, his hunger constant, burrowing deep in the yawning of his stomach.

he wants more from you. he will always want more.

.

"daddy?" you call, pattering out of your room with a little pout. john's quick to drop the call, not bothering to say any goodbyes to ghost, and turns all of his attention to you.

he gulps, feeling himself chub up underneath his slacks. you've got your neon green tube top on, the fabric taut as it clings to your skin. there's a little slip of cut by the front of it, and all that's keeping the fabric twined together are the little straps that converge into an 'X', framing your pretty tits in a way that has his throat constricting, his thirst palpable as it rolls off him in waves.

you don't notice of course, eyes turned to the baby blue slip of a dress you're carrying.

"hi, sweet'art," he croaks out, pulling your attention back to him, almost pleading.

you look up, blinking like you've forgotten he was there or that you were even asking for him, before a smile dances on your lips, tugging that kissable pout away.

"john!" you say, giddy, bouncing in your place and it—

jesus, it makes your tits wobble, your tight tube top not really doing anything to hide the fact that you don't got a bra on.

you tryna kill him or somethin', doll?

"c'mere," he grunts, patting at his lap.

you fall on top of him with a squeal, all your tender parts dimpling as you nuzzle close, humming in delight when john brushes his lips on your forehead. he adjusts himself on the seat, arm curling around your waist, tugging you impossibly closer.

"so what's got you into a tizzy?" john asks, rubbing his hand atop your belly, his cock chubbing up even more at the softness of your pudge.

"oh," you murmur, breathless, your eyes tracking his caresses. "was jus' wonderin' if i should wear this top or the blue dress, s'all."

"yeah?" john begins peppering kisses along the shell of your ear, huffing when you squeak, body jolting at the ticklish feeling that his stubble makes. "and y'wanted daddy's thoughts, s'that it?"

"mhmm." you sound distant. distracted.

john trembles, just as dizzy with his need. he wonders if he can coax you out of that outing you were planning with your friends. he wonders if he can ask you to stay because there's something else he'd rather do than talk to his mates.

(maybe he'll have you kiss his cock and have you smear that lipgloss all over the leaking slit; or have you sit on his face since it's been a while since he's got a taste, and john is parched.

or maybe he'll have you ride him, give him a view of those pretty tits bouncing, your nipples hard and in need of being sucked on. maybe he'll make a mess out of that top, yeah? lick you through it, watch it go damp and see-through, until the green of your top is muddled with the colour of your areolas.

or maybe he'll breed you, huh darlin'? you'd want that, wouldn't you? have him fulfill his promises—make a mom out of you?)

"well, baby," john begins, his voice gruff as he pulls himself out of his imaginations. he kisses the slope of your neck, and breathes in the smell of your body wash. "i do love that green top better—shows more of y'r girls, doesn't it?"

you giggle, almost a touch shy, before nodding. john's heart swells, the aching need in the pit of his stomach peaking, bloating. he can't help himself—his darling love is warm on top of him, beautiful and soft. a lesser man would've crumbled faster; pawing at your body, hand rough as it fondles your tit—

really, john deserves a goddamn award for how saintly he's acting; holding back like he's not leaking in his boxers.

but he remembers how excited you've been about this night out and jobn would rather fuck his fist than ever be the cause of your disappointment, so he takes a ragged breath in, leashing his desires back in the pit of his stomach, weaving it beneath his blood, and taps your hip to send you off.

you climb out of his lap with a huff before you twirl, bending forward and planting a sloppy kiss on his lip. you leave them sticky, marked by your lipgloss.

"see you later, daddy," you trill, waving, before you run back to the room. john can only grunt, unable to trust his weakened voice.

.

driven by his deprivation, john fishes a lingerie out of your hamper and pockets it. he'll need it for later—the night is young.

[shomatoriashi]

10/26/24; 06:50pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when you wake up in the middle of the night ]

featuring: itoshi rin; itoshi sae (separate drabbles)

notes / warnings: potentially ooc.

a sudden breeze was felt coursing through you, making your skin erupt in goosebumps as you lay close to the open window. your body shivers in response to such a sensation, and when you shift in bed, you felt your nose land against a hard wall of muscle.

your eyes were hazy, slowly opening up to see the young man sleeping beside you. warmth was felt against your cheeks, and your mouth turns dry at seeing rin sleeping so peacefully.

even with his eyes hidden beneath trembling lids, he was still so beautiful to you. with his hair fanned out beneath him like a soft halo, you couldn’t stop the sensation in your hands and how they itched with the need to reach out and touch him.

you lift your hand, hesitating for a brief moment before gingerly threading your fingertips through his hair. feeling your smile widen at the silky feel of his tresses-

but when his eyes suddenly open, revealing startling teal orbs meeting your gaze, you swore you could feel your heart jump into the confines of your throat.

“r-rin!”

you watch as his lips part, letting out a yawn before lazily bringing you closer to his chest. your heart was still racing, with your hands clinging to the front of his shirt when you shakily ask, “i’m sorry, did i wake you up?”

“no.” rin’s answer was succinct, yet maintaining a sleepy quality as it was clear that your boyfriend was still exhausted. “i woke up when i felt you ram into me.”

“h-hey i did not ram into you!” you admit with a pout, “i just felt cold after that breeze.”

rin simply lets out a hum in response, wrapping his arms behind your back before pulling you closer to him. upon feeling his warmth seeping into you, you visibly relax against him. letting out a purr of his name, you giggle all while pressing a kiss against his chest.

registering the feeling of your lips on his body makes rin respond beautifully to you. the slight hitch in his breathing coupled along with the rapid beating of his heart was enough to make you break out into a grin.

you had no idea how lucky you were to be this intimate with rin. even when he had no interest in building relationships and forming bonds with others-

somehow, you were lucky enough to get through his skin, managing to break down the walls he had oh so carefully built around himself with a single smile and soft touch.

“sleep, i’ll keep you warm.” rin tells you in a sleepy whisper while letting out a murmur of your name. surrounded by his comforting scent, you close your eyes and allow yourself to sleep once more all while in rin’s protective embrace.

when sae took you out to eat at one of your favorite restaurants for your one year anniversary, you weren’t expecting to feel so thirsty later that night.

the memory of such a delicious meal was enough to make you smile, yet your throat felt absolutely parched afterwards. due to how tired you both felt after your date, you fell asleep with sae just mere hours after returning home.

yet now, you felt a quickly mounting thirst that threatens to consume you, making you squirm a bit beneath sae’s embrace. letting out a soft moan, you open your eyes and lick at your bottom lip, feeling how chapped they were.

looking back, you were happy to see your lover still asleep, with only a single arm wrapped loosely around you. grateful that his hold wasn’t too tight, you carefully attempt to remove yourself from his embrace.

and when you felt your bare feet land against the hardwood flooring of your bedroom, you nearly danced in celebration, ready to make a beeline toward the kitchen had it not been for the large hand that was felt gripping at your wrist.

you gasp, suddenly falling back in bed as lips were felt latching on to the back of your neck along with a pair of arms that keeps your form tightly against him, “mmm, where do you think you’re going?”

“sae…” his name comes out as a whine, and you tremble upon feeling his kisses against your skin. “i’m thirsty… come on, you’ve got to let me go. i’m dying of dehydration over here.”

sae scoffs at your dramatic words, leaning closer to you to bite down at the lobe of your ear, “fine, but you’re not allowed to leave my side.”

he gets out of bed with you, keeping both arms wrapped around you as you dragged walked with him towards the kitchen. had you not felt so thirsty, you would have teased him for his clinginess. after what felt like an eternity, you managed to get to your fridge while opening it, seeing all the bottled water lined up for you to take.

grabbing one of the bottles, you uncap it before downing half of it in a mere few gulps. as you basked in how refreshingly cold it was, your eyes meet with sae before offering the same bottle to him. “would you like some?”

letting out a hum, he accepts your offer and takes the bottle away from you. you watch your boyfriend intently, noticing how his adam’s apple bobbed with each gulp that he takes along with a few stray droplets of water sliding down the corner of his lips. your eyes were mesmerized, watching as that single droplet made its descent towards the base of his throat.

when sae finishes the bottle, you instantly made your move and latched on to his skin, allowing your tongue to lick away at that single droplet. you bask in the shudder that runs down his spine, feeling his hands tightly grip at your hair before pulling you toward him.

“naughty girl…” sae tells you with a grunt, already tossing you over his shoulder as you giggled profusely in response, ready to take in whatever he had to offer when he returns to your shared bedroom while slamming the door shut.

end notes: hiiii i’ve never written for the blue lock fandom before, but i want to try because the brothers are so hot and cool (⺣◡⺣)♡ i’m so sorry if this is ooc, but, i’d like to expand and write for more new characters, so i hope you readers can forgive me ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[delulustateofmind]

House Plant

TW: Yandere Behaviors, Stalking, Mentions of Kidnapping, noncon forehead smooch, Gn! Reader

WC: 500 (teeny tiny blurb)

You always brag about your green thumb. It’s your go-to anecdote: plants practically take care of themselves, you say. All you do is let them bask in the sunlight, barely watering them. Yet, somehow, your basil thrives, your golden pothos spills in luscious waves off the shelf, and your Monstera unfurls massive leaves that seem to stretch toward you like hands reaching out for help.

A miracle, really, considering a year ago you couldn’t even keep a fake plant from looking dull and lifeless. You joke that neglect might be the secret ingredient.

But it’s not neglect.

It’s him.

The sweet man from the plant nursery you met a year ago has been tending your plants in secret. He unlocks your door at night, stepping in with the practiced silence of a predator. Sometimes he comes during the day while you're out, his fingers brushing over the leaves you let burn under the relentless sun. Normally, he wouldn’t care about someone so careless. But watching you torture your plants with that thoughtless neglect? That did something to him. Awoke something he hasn’t been able to silence since.

He waters them. Feeds them. Prunes them. Repots them into richer soil. He’s poured hours into keeping them alive. You haven’t noticed the subtle shifts: the fresh soil around their bases, the slightly different placement of their pots, the way the leaves glisten unnaturally as though kissed by an unseen hand.

You don’t even notice him when he’s standing inches from your bed.

After his nightly rituals, he lingers, his gaze tracing the soft rise and fall of your chest as you sleep. Sometimes he reaches out, brushing a fingertip along your cheek. Tonight, he dares a kiss on your temple. You stir faintly, and for a brief, intoxicating moment, he wonders what you’d do if you woke to find him there, hovering over you like a shadow you can’t escape.

He presses his lips to your skin again. His hands tremble, aching to take you with him. Wouldn’t you be beautiful, kept under his care like one of your plants? He’d monitor your every need—your sunlight, your hydration, your nutrition. You’d thrive in his hands, just as your plants do now.

But there’s a darkness curling around the edges of his thoughts, whispering promises of discipline. Would you thrive under neglect, too? He wonders what you’d become after hours locked away in the dark, parched with thirst and stomach clawing for sustenance. How long before you break, wilting and desperate, begging for his touch, his care? The thought is thrilling.

He laughs softly, a sound meant only for himself. What a pretty little houseplant you’d make. Beautiful, fragile, and entirely his. And like all good things, you’d grow best under his control—until your roots were tangled too deeply to ever leave him.

Perhaps it’s time to stop tending your plants.

Perhaps it’s time to tend to you.

Characters:

JJK: Nanami, Geto, Sukuna, Kenjaku, Mahito

AOT: Levi, Erwin, Zeke

BNHA: Tomura, Overhaul, Dabi, Hawks

HxH: Hisoka, Illumi, Chrollo

Other Characters I thought of: Light Yagami, Douma, Aki

[ladythornofrivia]

Kingdom of Fire & Blood || (Part One)

🐉 MASTERLIST 🐉

Next Chapter

summary: modern!reader woke up in Westeros after getting drunk.

pair: aemond x reader

warnings & disclaimer: smut, violence, p in v sex, sexual content, aemond being arrogant but is secretly a softie, modern reader doesn’t know how the world of GOT works but is a Aemond stan, praise kink, breeding kink, spitting kink, voice kink, fluff, angst—family drama, oral sex, hate sex, jealousy, stalking, virginity loss, obsession, reader being sassy and aroused, sweet moments with reader and aemond. Reader is a huge GOT & HOTD fan. Pro-Green, Reader is a green supporter. Aemond becomes king instead of Aegon. (P.S. Alys who? I only know Aemond x Reader).

a/n: it’s official! It’s here! I hope you enjoy my fanfic series of ‘Kingdom of Fire and Blood’.

Chapter One: The Dark Uproar

In a realm of dragons and knights,

There lays with conquer and fear, from scorching summer through bleak winters, through life of air and fire and ashes.

In a realm of nobility and law, in the halls of mountain and sea,

the green star has shed upon the dark, cloudless sky, wedged upon the shrouded waters of Westeros.

The green star has emerged.

“Seize her! Don’t let her get away!” the man pointed at you dashing away from the scenery.

It’s a dream. You were sure that it’s a dream. Dreams occurred in a blurry vision, not by transparency. Dreams are often—and easily—forgotten once awake after the newborn daylight arises.

In a midst of pursuit, you retraced back your steps. You went at your friend’s celebration, then eat and watched anime— you didn’t have much vigor to spare for removing your makeup due to sleepiness. The last thing you ever did was you resting on your warm bed without a change of clothing, now dry and shivering, laying down on a half-parched sand, half-asleep while unsure of what’s happening before your arrival. You were unconscious deeply in your sleep you weren’t aware of the commotion you have caused, awoken by the young knight, who found you in the brink of nightfall—who fled and carried you—travelled within distance for three days.

Under a huffed breath, legs and feet numbed as you carried yourself away to stray paths where band of guards weren’t able to trace you accurately. You’re much lighter and faster with sprinting; due to their armor, they couldn’t move they so desire. Even more so when some guards have horses with them. Or hounds barking with thirst for a good gnaw on your youthful flesh.

Until now, you’re steadfast with rush. Harsh wind blasted in your earholes at the stallion’s speed.

Your mind is raced with previous encounter, mind occupied with millions of panic inquiries.

~ before the chase ~

Previously, with your skin and bones beneath your tight crop top shirt and tennis skirt quivering at a spine-tingling weather, despite the lack of storming wind, you have no idea where to begin on what to say to the young knight but offering him a small yet timid smile to lessen the intensity of cumbersome fate that’s forcefully thrusted upon you, oblivious and frightened, shaking like a grumpy feline that despises water or anything that touches the feline.

Upon the yearnings of a weeping locked inside your heaving chest, of begging and wanting to go home was futile, estranged within a foreign land. As the vexed fate of anxiety clambered into your heart, the staggering breaths and rasps in your voice and your loud thoughts has been noticed by a young man in fancy armor, bestowing you with a relieved grin etched on his weary features. You’re certain that Halloween is over.

“You have awaken,” he said with a brightened grin, though you weren’t focused on the sound of his voice, but saw his lips shifted.

Noticing the young man’s eyes, you were positive that no one wouldn’t rescue a stranger such as yourself. Groaning, you leaned your back against over the bulkiness of a tumbled tree. Fire flickered and crackled like bones snapped to pieces.

“Can you hear me, my lady?” he asked, alarmed yet almost as quiet; he didn’t wish to see you alert under his aid.

“My lady,” you repeated, lifting your heavy-numbing head, confused as you were shaking with your eyes sealed with bursting pink stars flowing in your black vision, ears, head and heart pounded against you wakened state. Sighing, you resumed with, “How long have I been unconscious?”

“For three days,” he said, the soft outline of his lips curled upward, as if he was relieved to see you alive and well. Your eyes examined him, spotting the clean armor and a long sword carried in his sheath.

“What happened?”

“I saw you lying unconscious, so I have to come and save you, hoping that you’re alive.”

Everything was bizarre at this point.

“Save me?” you asked the boy, subconscious, coughing out the thick, salted water, clutching your chest tight, pounding for the leftover to drain.

“Yes, my lady,” the young man said with a kind smile, but his glassy eyes beamed against your frightful ones, covered in soot, despite being drenched. “I was sent by my father for a further alliance with another house, but as soon as I left the castle, I found lying you unconscious in the midst of the ocean. I have swam my way to rescue you.”

“Where did you find me exactly? I’m all wet,” you commented, lips curled in disgust your clothes are caked in black sand and puddle.

“I found you by the shores, and took you in quick before anyone could search on the grounds.”

Your head was pounding.

“Shores?”

“At Blackwater Bay,” he explained.

Blackwater Bay, you thought as your fingernails scraped onto your wet scalp. That name sounds familiar.

The back of your head was pounding. “Are we still at Blackwater Bay?”

“We travelled within three days while you were in your subconscious state. A fewer miles ahead and you’re already in the kingdom.”

Then the skies filled with an animalistic roar, screeching like nails on a chalkboard.

Your ears covered and shoulder blades flinched at the long, grating sound.

Your shoulders flinched as you said, “What the hell is that?”

The young man still grinned, remaining silenced from your projected inquiry.

“They’re still frightened of the sound,” is all he said. “Of the light.”

You eyed on him with perplexed expression resting on your features.

“What light?” you wondered. “What did you mean when you ‘they’re still frightened of the sound’?”

“Dragons,” the young man said, eyes twinkled. “You came down here with the light, and that’s what’s causing the uproar.”

You found his cryptic statement alarmingly bizarre due to his faint enthusiasm.

“We’re reaching close to our destination,” he said, but you still don’t comprehend.

Bewildered, before you could ask another, the clanging sounds of metal and flickering flames on a torch and countless heavy stomps dashed on its way to your direction.

“Allow me to escort you to safety. These guards are brutal than ravage beasts,” he said to you. “I can’t let a young maiden die in vain.”

Your breath held in shortly.

“Which way should I go? Is there a safe spot for me to hide?”

“Take the nearest path down on a pebbled road and hide. From there, you’ll see the narrow passage, one where no one uses. Traitors and spies lurking about the lower grounds.” and kept heading The young man pushed you, guided you and instructed you to conceal behind the large and sharp boulder, while your legs shaken, air colder than ice. However, another realization dawned upon your wake. You have nowhere to go. Not in this foreign land.

Thoughts conjured and slice your numb mind open. Death is near me; I’ll be killed if I don’t have something with me.

“Where am I heading to?”

“Somewhere far where they can’t reach you or trace your steps. You’re heading to a place where the crown’s might is still strong.”

You paused in your tracks. Wait, that can’t be right.

The rumbled noise made it’s passage close to your location, causing for your heart and his sprung with immense fear.

Both of you reached in time as he hoisted your body up on the saddle. Before whipping the reins on the horse, the young man gave you the dagger with a symbol on his shining armor. The same sigil the knight has on his armor—or so it appears. “You’ll be in safer hands if you carry something with you.”

“If we meet again, I’ll return this blade back to you.”

His eyes gazed into yours with a sad smile.

“Still, I don’t even know your name.”

He grasped your hand shortly. He smiled. “Ser Remon Blackwood.”

The pounded hooves reached a louder noise, getting near to your direction.

“Thank you, Ser Blackwood,” you said.

Remon Blackwood had his hand reached out to yours. “You share kindness like no other. Not like the people in the realm with conquering dragons. It’s an honor to meet you, my lady,” he said, giving you a one last smile.

“Dragons?” you questioned in shock.

He gave a hard slap on the horse’s front leg, as he watched his given horse galloped with you giving one last look onto the despairing knight with a somber smile.

Your eyes darted forward, leaving your ears perceiving the traced sounds of sword clashed and rang, forest filled with raged shouts.

Afar, a young knight plea for mercy, then a long-produced sounds of swords slipped through cracked armor and bones, blood shed and slimed over the forest ground.

Then nothing; only the solid ripples of the heavy hooves and a rushed wind from a great stallion’s speed deafened onto your ears.

The good knight is dead.

And the nightfall became colder.

~ present ~

The horse nearly reached to a wide-ranged road when five of the men continued to pursuit you, eyes preyed on you at the back of your head, drilling and contain in unyielding desire of violence.

“Kill the bitch!” one man shouted.

Looking over to your shoulder, on your left, you saw the man on the right drew out a bow, and sent the arrow down at your back. But you managed to duck in time. With an irritated huff, the man sent another blow with the second arrow. You ducked your head once more, gazing back, then forth, then back again.

Heart pounding in your chest; the distance between them began to shrink.

“For fuck’s sake,” the first man bellowed, wrinkles on his forehead protruded, veins on his neck were visible. “Sent the arrow flying down on that bitch’s neck, you good for nothing prick!”

The second man’s face went pale. “I’m trying, sire.”

“Try harder, you useless fucktwad!”

Clutched fingers against the writhed reins grew tired, the steadiness in your breath increased tenfold in suffocation, heart rate escalated twice as strong—feeling hot and cold all at once. Cold sweat plastered to your clutched hands as you whipped the reins harder, indicating a sign for the stallion advance farther. The pace began to slow; you whipped the reins, but no to avail.

“Please, hurry,” you begged, head leaning against the horse’s ear, holding onto your dear life as death still awaits for you.

The man reload with the third arrow. His aim targeted to your face. For a second, he went still with his aim, but immediately shot at the back of the horse’s leg. The back of the horse’s limbs tripped and flipped in mid-air, sent you flying forward with a loud clash on the forest ground that nearly shattered your back and ribcage. Ears rang and eyes shut with gritted teeth droned a sharp hiss from your lips as the men dismounted down and marched their towered over you crumpled form.

Immediately, you gathered your shattered form and fled with your hidden in plain sight. The limp on your leg made a painfully deliberate pace as you attempt to go farther while the men with cloaks and big swords, following you, wearing a yellow and crooked teeth on their lips, sniggering at your flee. And by the time you reached at the centered road, nearly to the exit, your path has been blocked by two more men, who you unaware of the extra company. One man grabbed a fistful of your hair and dragged you down. Drawing the dagger out, your hand brought down on his foot, then his knee, then his thigh—never minding the hysterical noise. Loosening the grip on your head, while on your knees, with a support of your foot, you spun around and stabbed a knee from another man.

You couldn’t scream or cry for help anymore. After all, you’re drowsy from ocean water, still wet and lost, in an unwonted void of labyrinth.

“What shall we do of this little cunt?” the man with a thin beard said.

“We’re going to make a use of her, bore into her with my seed and carry the filthy bastard inside her,” the second man with a short, uneven bowl cut suggested confidently. “After that, I’ll eat her flesh.”

“Stupid cunt can’t even fend for herself,” the third man, who was shorter than you said, cackling. “Let’s all take turns then. Whoever makes her scream the hardest, will get to keep her as a toy.”

One man undo his armor on the half-bottom, the clanging armor bumped in haste rhythm, as all the men who towered over your sicken stature, shed their trousers out.

Before one could pull the long cock out, with a knife in your hand, given by the young knight, you sliced his cock apart, left him wailing like an infant, blood splattered like waterfall. The men hovered you with their grubby hands, but you dodged—rolled back and took a hard swing at the man on your left, chopped his hand off. With the knife on your hand, it felt more like a short sword.

Another man has struck.

The bulky man in the middle plunged a full swing on your belly. Yelping, your arms encompassed over your flesh as the man plunged another blow with his hardened boot. His eyes gaze over the blade and punted it over to the side, then stomped over your belly and breasts in repeated motion until he grows tired. Once his foot has grown fatigue, he grabbed your thighs and spread them apart.

“No…” you said, pleading and crying. “Please don’t!”

The man dragged your panties and your tennis skirt down in barbarous motion. “Stay still and be a good wench,” he said, muddy fingers traced over your skin. You bit his fingers, drawing hot blood.

Enraged, his hands strangled you. With quick thinking, you knee slammed against his balls and kicked his face, crawling away before retrieving the dagger back, the man stomped over your left wrist, your mouth opened, but no sound came except the twinge of pain searing in your bones.

“You should’ve listen and stay still like a dog,” the man sneering, pulling your hair back again. The blurriness in your eyes worsened.

With your bones and limbs have been shattered, the hope in you began to fade. No hopes of a savior or luck stayed in hand with your despair.

His boot lunched another blow struck against your face, only to be bled through your nose, your body is broken and immovable, you couldn’t find yourself speaking, or cry for aid. Nothing good ever comes.

Except you’re alive. In fact, you were letting your guard down���pretending to be dead, abiding for the enemy to make a hasty error. The squint on your right eye left a little gap, seeing the man, kneeling down on you as he took off his trousers merrily. But as he splayed his cock out in the cold air, you managed the seize the dagger, tackled him and slashed his throat, while alive, the dagger impaled him through one of his eyes, then nose, then cheek—spare vigor imploded under a last sheer of your quick anger. The man’s face and mouth flowed with warm blood, choking and plopped down back on the surface with a thunderous thud.

From there, you stood once more and limped your way through the exit from the forest’s road in so little steps.

Only remains are the trees billowed and rustled and swayed through a gentle, cool breeze, and with you exhaling with a cautious breath you held in your chest and limbs worn out and limped as your vision drown into darkness.

~~~

Ser Criston Cole accompanied the band of men through the forest, as for they ought to repose for a short while. Sundowns became long, and the dragons in the heavens unyielded through an unforgiving climate.

The dragons don’t bear the coldness of wintry-like air. In the old days of Valyria, centuries before the time of Viserys’s reign, none of the great dragons and its people survived the Doom of Valyria, and within the errored times, from moving Essos to Westeros, dragons hatched into a total of eighteen—mighty and proud and carnivorous and bloodthirsty, though tamed through the influence of their rightful owners—heirlooms and foundation of companionship and trust between those who have the blood of a Valyria and connections through history. For instance, Vhagar is the second largest dragon compare to the other dragon riders owned. Dragons are obedient when those who dialect in Valyrian tongue, if not some. Some takes a special gift to have certain trust with a dragon, and dragon shares it’s mutual respect to the owner.

But it can’t say the same to the recent owners. The Blackwater Bay boomed nearby the Dragonstone. And during the nightly hours, the dragons were deeply asleep, though fully awakened by the quiet whiplash of what it appears to be none other than the small green light yet brightly shot downward from the vast of great, empty sky. Two nights ago, Prince Daemon tried to appease his dragon, Caraxes, the red scaly beast, but it’s clear enough to sent the prince with hesitation. Prince Daemon reached Caraxes with his hand for reassurance but Caraxes nearly snapped Prince Daemon’s hand in half. Criston Cole has neither seen Prince Daemon or Caraxes in the verge of calamity. Prince Daemon, a rogue prince who tends be as brute yet reckless and composed has been caught off guard.

The dragons have startled the men—knights and royals alike completely—peasants, too. The green starry light has fallen into the thundering waves, almost as if it was the end of Westeros. The booming wave from Blackwater Bay still lingers the aftermath effect. None slept through the night. They were returning to King’s Landing from meeting the lord from the north nearby the Blackwater Bay. But Prince Daemon, as always, fled away without considering so much of a wait for the others.

Under the gentle moonlight floating from the clouds, Ser Criston and his men galloped through the forest with their horses, hooves stomped over the twigs and dead leaves and the steeped grounds. By the time they reached into the monumental of pointed, red structures and gold and white in the city, Criston Cole couldn’t wait to repose and serve the Greens, mainly Queen Alicent, King Viserys’s second wife.

The stallion neighed loudly as it thrown its front hooves up in the air. Criston Cole’s heart leapt, somewhat appeasing his steed as the men behind him halted without a warning, causing others to nearly fall.

“What in the Seven Hells…” the man beside Criston Cole, took upon the glance at the fallen men in the midst of their exit.

Criston took the man’s torch and investigated the scenery. The fallen men all have bled from their knees to their open crotches. Hardness of their cock had flung out from a sharp blade. Criston winced at the sudden imagery flashed through his head.

“What could’ve done this…” a scrawny man said, perturbed.

“It must’ve been the work of a demon,” another man commented.

Criston moved onward, his legs carried him far and examined the view before him long before he reached to a figure, laying down. Rushing to her side, he noticed that her attire was far strangely and strikingly unique and bright compare what other women in the court wore. Turning her over, Criston settled his palm over her visage, pushing the long locks aside.

“My lady,” he muttered, still calm. While carrying the torch, he removed his glove with his teeth and touched her face. It was warm. Then he traced his hand below on the center of her chest.

Her heart in fact, still beating. He heaved with relief and called out to his men.

“This girl is alive! We must take her back to King’s Landing!” He passed the torch to the man beside him, who was following Criston without Criston noticed, and ripped his cloak off and wrapped the cloak around you and carried your unconscious body back to the men. Instructing the man to carry you while mounted on his horse and retrieved you back, placing you at the front.

“What of the Targaryens?” the man asked, somewhat scared.

Criston gave a sharp glare.

His fellow comrades, knowing Criston’s reputation, has not said a word, and followed Criston back to the realm where dragons reign.

Taglist: @liannafae

@ aemondswifffeeeyyy - all rights reserved

[penguinlop]

Yandere Alhaitham x Reader

/// Ignorance Is Bliss

Summary:

You discover that your new love, Alhaitham, secretly keeps a detailed knowledge capsule about you.

cw: GN reader, spoilers for alhaitham’s lore and sumeru archon quests, yandere themes, stalking, manipulation, implied not-sfw

Alhaitham knows better than anyone else that there's always a price to pay to enter the oasis of knowledge. 

Sanity is the ticket those desert sirens crave to check before you board. 

Enticing scrolls of information wrap around your waist and weary legs, dragging you toward the mirage of gilded wisdom. They dance around, heated faces burned from the whispers of sand. The glistening flow of cleansing texts and books containing forbidden, convoluted details tempts people's thirst. 

It's all for the enlightenment. An intoxicating euphoria of comprehension, to feel the ivory branches and leaves of Irminsul flood their senses. Perhaps it's the glory, that "aha!" moment people desire. They want to fatten their parched egos and satisfy that sinister appetite. They hunger to be better than everyone else by knowing and achieving more, by finding the Holy Grail first. 

Knowledge is the charmer; people are the sinful serpents. 

As with any personal research project for him, it started with discovering the topic of interest

Alhaitham prides himself on being a man with principles rooted in logic. Rationality is the key to clarity. Dreams are mere distractions. They are fanatical fantasies that the mind plays to taunt and deceive. The Sages endlessly speak of how emotions only get in the way of breaking the Samsara and reaching Nirvana. 

Perhaps the moon can only hope to achieve the greatness of the sun. 

That is why it was noon when he first laid eyes on you in the House of Daena.

You smelt of orange blossom.

How could he forget that contemplative look as you searched for yellowing books riddled with dust to pique your interest and aid your studies? It was nothing out of the ordinary, a common spectacle rather. As a fellow member of the Akademiya, you were simply another eager student to him.  

Holding onto such a meaningless encounter wouldn't be rational. He didn't even bother to gather information on you via the Akasha as a testament to his word. 

But one evening, as the lustrous moon wailed in its cage, Alhaitham found you near the beautiful Sanctuary of Surasthana. It was a clear night with a gentle breeze, the perfect time to  contemplate and relax amidst the choir of dusk birds. He was going up there to take a quick breather. There were too many annoying meetings he had to attend.  

With a telescope in hand and a notebook neatly laid on a stone bench nearby, you gazed at the glorious heavens. A faint fragrance of rose water clung to your skin. However, that's hardly what he noticed at the time. There it was again: that contemplative look. They say the scholars of the Akademiya hold the weight of Teyvat by carrying the burden of denying ignorance, the blistering desire to keep on learning. Some seek to know more and more, even as they meet their fated end. It's an addictive, maddening cycle of peeping into the elusive unknown and searching for answers. 

Yet you looked so peaceful. It was refreshing to see. 

Alhaitham couldn't help but reminisce about the words his grandmother left him with. 

"May my child Alhaitham lead a peaceful life." 

"Lovely, aren't they?" you whispered as tenderly as dancing Padisarahs when you noticed his form enter the Sanctuary's vicinity. "Many say the stars are mysterious, but I think they can be quite playful. Every day I unveil more. It's like they ask me to come and be with them" A simple glance nearly made him burn with curiosity. He suddenly felt parched. "I'm sorry if I startled you. I can often get carried away with my studies." You chuckled at the cunning man. Maybe he couldn't even hear you with his headphones on.  

Alhaitham crossed his arms and sighed. "It's fine. I should've known someone from the school of Rtawahist would be up here stargazing. I will be heading off then." Your telescope and blue robes were a telltale sign of your discipline; it was but a mere elementary-level deduction. 

"Are you sure you don't want to stay? I don't want you to feel like I am hogging the place." The fragrance of rose water came oh-so-slightly closer. It was too sweet and enticing. The pragmatic man couldn't help it. He discretely used his Akasha on you. 

After learning of your name and basic information, he came to the blatant conclusion that he needed to leave. Immediately. 

Once again, he thought of his grandmother. 

"You are such a smart child, but you must take care to have a clearer mind than others. You must understand that vain pursuits are but dust."

His mind was fogging up with too many eccentric yearnings. Aside from facts hastily gathered from the Akasha, he knew nothing about you. 

It needed to stay like that.

He nearly scoffed. What was this? That old tale of Layla and Majnun? The man who went insane from love. Give me a break. What use would itching love be to his aspirations? At best, this was but a fleeting attraction. It would go away eventually. 

"Look, I don't think either of us have any more time to waste." Alhaitham reviewed you once more before curtly turning around and walking away. "Now then, goodbye." 

He had made sure to study the contours of your face, your eye color, your height, your posture, how your clothes fit you, and, most of all, that scent of rose water. But, really, it was all to avoid you for future reference. Yes, understanding one's subject is critical. 

You raised your eyebrow as you saw his form grow smaller and smaller. Then, tilting your head up, you looked at the hypnotizing stars and deathly pale moon, trying to read your destiny and find the absolute truth. 

Before he could completely escape your view, you used your Akasha Terminal on him. Perhaps you were also too curious. Sumeru's ideals were fostered by you quite well.

Huh, so his name is Alhaitham…What a mysterious man.  

___

The art of coffee-making is a methodical process. 

Roast, ground, brew, and serve. 

It was akin to the process of learning that Alhaitham used: read, break down, reorganize, and question. 

Depending on the customer's order, it could be embellished with spices such as cardamom, cinnamon, or saffron. In some cases, sugar may be added. 

Alhaitham likes it dark and plain, an afternoon refreshment for the man on the go. While Puspa Café is a common place for social gatherings of people across all walks of life, ranging from lowlife sycophants to wishful merchants, he prefers to be alone. Solitude isn't as vexing as many claim. It allows him to think about his current ordeals. Moreover, it gives him time to read. 

That day, one problem had left him quite disturbed. 

The Dendro user has always been in-tune with his body. Ever since the brief confrontation that night, he had been physically and mentally agitated, with a fluctuating heartbeat, clammy hands, accelerated breathing, and racing thoughts. Coffee was a possible solution he believed could mitigate any troublesome symptoms. But, of course, in moderation. His roommate, Kaveh, could learn about the word moderation. 

Yet this afternoon's refreshment only made it worse.

There you were again. 

A ghastly deev haunting his every footstep. Spreading tendrils of nightmares across his skin to choke his throat, vivisecting his beating heart and rumbling mind to capture any essence of starry wisdom and pragmatic musings. 

Closing the book he was reading, he noticed the color of the coffee that spewed out of your brass dallah. It was so light. Just from the sight of it, he could taste the nauseating sweetness, too lightly roasted, with too much sugar, honey, and spice. Scoffing, he bets you even untraditionally added milk to lessen the bitter taste. Children are the only ones who dream in this nation, yet one quick look at you was enough to guess that you never truly grew up.

As if you wanted to solidify his observation, your eyes glowed and the corners of your lips curled up when you spotted him. You made your way over to his table and asked if he would like to join you with a spring in your step. 

Amidst the overpowering, bold scent of coffee clouding the café, he smelt it the moment you came closer.

Jasmine. 

Were your decisions rooted in spontaneity, or did you cycle through a collection of perfumes? He couldn't help but ponder the answer as you awaited his response. 

"Sure." 

He adored the way you perked up at the sound of one word. A waitress quickly helped to arrange a larger table for you two. 

This was just a way to get more information out of you. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Yes, you could be of use to him. The third time's a charm, they say. 

You quickly got comfortable, too comfortable. "Would you like to share some baklava or maamoul cookies? They are quite delicious, though I can order something else for you if you don't like them. Be my guest!" With a slight, delicate movement of your hand, you gestured to the assortment of sweets laying on a brass tray. 

"No. I'm fine. Foods with such high levels of sugar only leave me restless at night. It's a nuisance to deal with while I'm trying to work. You should know better, too. Thank you, though." 

You awkwardly glanced away. "I see…Well, that's not a problem. The offer is always there if you change your mind." Looking down at your hands nestled in your lap, you maneuvered the dying conversation elsewhere and swiftly began to ask about his job as the Akademiya's Scribe. The dreamy gleam in your eyes never faded

He couldn't get enough. His illogical thirst was growing.

His flesh began to blaze with anticipation. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to entertain this romantic fantasy for a bit. Things could be tested with you. He was never one to be enthralled with the concept of love. It was too frivolous and melodramatic, but he supposed studious scholars never limit their perspectives. 

"So, what's it like?" you chirped. 

Why must you question him? He wanted to know more about you, everything there was to know. No, he had to know in order to finally get this greedy parasite wishing to feast on every bit of you out of his mind. Such a visceral need was consuming every inch of his very being. All semblances of practicality were withering before his eyes. No amount of bitter coffee was enough to quench the anxiety that plagued his mind, nor his bouncing knees, as you persistently asked him about his work and Darshan of Haravatat. 

Of course. 

How could he be so ignorant? His approach was all wrong. 

Alhaitham graduated with top grades at the Akademiya; his professors commended him for quickly deciphering incredibly elaborate ancient runes and grasping unfathomably complex syntax and structure. 

You were like that. 

You were a puzzle waiting to be unveiled and exposed to him and him alone. The world has no need of getting to view such convoluted beauty. A rare individual you were, indeed. You managed to hold on to such childish ways of wanting to dream while still maintaining a mature air of unmatched wisdom in your research. 

Alhaitham began the next phase of his project. 

Studying the subject.  

He thanked his grandmother for the lessons she taught him. All he had to do was clear his mind, and the path to wisdom was unfolding. 

___

None of it was wrong. 

No sane student at the Akademiya would ever take their exam blindly or be unprepared for a debate. Comprehension and studying are critical components to achieving success. So why set yourself up for failure? 

Before asking if you would reciprocate his feelings, he had to know first. So many calculated scenarios were emerging through his mind as he thought of what would happen if he didn't make sure beforehand. He couldn't possibly let himself look like some idiot. He had to find out the exact percentage of success, no matter what it took. 

After all, Alhaitham's hands were never the cleanest, even if he did like a cushy life. 

That is why he felt no guilt when he asked to walk you home. It was very late at night. You were stargazing again. He just wanted to be useful.  

Each step was seared into his mind. Each item of interest you pointed out on the way left him with more questions. Upon reaching your abode, sparks of pride flooded into his veins. He had guessed you lived in this area. You often walked here during mornings and later hours; it was a straightforward conclusion. Nothing special. 

A tender smile graced your beautiful face. It was brimming with gratitude. 

He ensured you entered safely and locked the door. It was only when all the lights were out did he truly depart, though. He had to see the peaceful expression on your face as you slept. 

Once Alhaitham arrived home, he felt conflicted. Reasonably, there was no chance he could ever forget anything from today. Yet humans aren't without their respective flaws, especially involving memory. He didn't dare to ruminate on what may occur if he were to somehow forget even one piece of information you blessed him with. Every tidbit and morsel you fed him was significant in nature. 

It was all part of his investigations.  

However, he couldn't write such crucial facts in some random notebook. No, no; such things must remain strictly confidential. It was only logical. What if he misplaced it? Or even worse, what if his obnoxious roommate got to it? He rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue.

Summoning an empty knowledge capsule that he had obtained when he was ordered to draft more ordinances for the Sages, Alhaitham flooded it with every bit of data he had on you, from your slumbering form to your mellow smile and contemplative look. It was all there. Safe and sound, ready for him to access at any time. 

Before resting, he thought of the way you smelt of orange blossom again. 

___

You next met one morning at the Akademiya. 

You wore no fragrance today. 

Chuckling, you noticed Alhaitham stride towards you impatiently. He was clutching a small, decorative bag. After exchanging simple greetings, he handed it over to you. There was neither a frilly explanation nor a blooming blush on his handsome face. Instead, he had a sharp and clean approach. 

"Here, this is for you." 

Though not one to express his emotions so as to maintain an unreadable body language, you had picked up on a few of his habits. He seemed eager. It was charming to think about how he grew more casual and open around you. To the untrained eye, one may think he wasn't fond of you at all, but you knew. That realization was enough to keep you on your toes. 

One previous evening, the glimmering stars and bygone moon sisters breathlessly spoke of your future. It was challenging to decipher, but you stuck to your beliefs that the stars don't lie, and you were greatly rewarded.

The confirming chill that the divine gales of the night brought to you all spoke of the same fortune. 

"There is a man that treasures every bit of you." 

Despite sounding like good tidings, a hole in your stomach grew.

It started off as a tiny sapling. You suspected it to be anxiety for upcoming deadlines or the usual fatigue from nights spent stargazing. Something that could easily be brushed off. Yet branches and roots ravaged and wrapped around your organs as you heard the consistent sound of soil crunching beneath one's feet. Be it dawn or dusk, such dreadful mirages pained your spirit.

But with Alhaitham, it stopped. Perhaps it was a side effect of being in love. Being so on edge around him had taken a toll on you. Is this why the Sages warn of pursuing things such as love? You couldn't help but wonder. 

Nevertheless, it wasn't an appropriate time to have your heads in the clouds. 

You quickly tore off the patterned wrapping paper and grinned. It was exactly what you needed: more jasmine-scented perfume! Just the glass bottle itself was astonishingly exquisite, encrusted with jewels and detailed with gold. You could tell it was expensive. 

"I can't take this. This must've cost you a fortune! I really can't accept this. Though I did just run out of mine… You should return it and use the money for something more useful. Besides, I'm fine with using the cheaper one I usually purchase!"

Returning the bottle to the small bag, you tried to give it back to the man standing before you. 

Alhaitham hated the way you acted. This was just a quick gift he purchased at the Grand Bazaar. It was nothing. He knew you had run out of your usual exactly the day prior. Alhaitham simply saw an opportunity and decided to strike. Honestly, he only studies what interests him. You should know that by now. Why bother with the inessential? 

"Don't be ridiculous.” His eyes narrowed oh-so-slightly. “It was just something I thought you might like. Anyway, keep it. I have no need for such things." 

Still lacking confidence, you treaded carefully, "Well…If you say so. I will treasure it by wearing it every day! Thank you, Alhaitham." Inspecting the perfume bottle again, you couldn't help but smile. "It's almost like a miracle that you gifted me this because I just ran out of my usual. I really want to thank you somehow…."

Bullseye. 

"Hmm… Is that so? Never mind, we will get to that later." He placed his hand underneath your chin and pulled your face from side to side to inspect you. "You haven't been sleeping well, have you? Your eyebags are much more prominent." 

Twinges of insecurity rang through your bones as he examined your appearance. I suppose that's how he shows he cares? Looking down, you played with the strings of the gift bag and tried to awkwardly collect yourself. "Lack of sleep is common for my studies, but I have been a bit more jumpy than usual when I rest, that's all. Perhaps you were right back then…Too much sugar." Your voice grew weaker. "It's nothing, really." 

"If it's ‘nothing’ as you claim it to be, then you wouldn't be so distressed. Come on, spit it out." There was no need to sugarcoat things. Many of his former classmates gossip that he is a ruthless robot, but he doesn't mind such statements. To him, it's better to clear things away than regret it later. 

Not wanting to look into his eyes, you glanced at the other students in the Akademiya mingling with their like-minded colleagues and friends. Dejectedly, you scratched the back of your neck, then quickly gestured to the door with your head. "Let's talk outside, shall we?" 

Sitting under a pavilion, you apologized for the sudden request to head outdoors. Alhaitham remained unfazed. Rigid and cold, silently awaiting a reply. 

First, you breathed in, then shakily exhaled before speaking, "Okay, then. I think someone is stalking me. I can't give you a proper explanation as to why, but I just know. It really has left me so scared. I won't lie, the feeling disappears when I'm with you...." With a heated face, you quickly looked to Alhaitham for validation as you poured out your feelings. "But, um, of course! You are an extremely accomplished individual. Anybody would feel better with you since you're the Scribe, after all." 

He scoffed, "I think Kaveh would beg to differ about your last statement." 

You laughed. 

It was simply perfect. He just wanted to caress your face and tell you how good you were being for him. Yes, so good. So naive. 

"Let's do an experiment. Why don't you stay at my place for a day or two and see what happens?" He couldn't help but smirk at how you shrunk under his all-knowing stare. "If you don't want to, I can think of another solution. However, I believe we have become quite close, and I'm sure you would enjoy it. Besides, Kaveh is out for a bit. But in the end, it's your choice, of course." 

"Well, if you insist…." You took out the perfume bottle and daintily sprayed it on your neck and wrists; you enjoyed how his keen eyes soaked you in. "Thank you for being so kind. You know me so well, Alhaitham." 

"Yes, I really do." 

___

In Sumeru City, when it rains, it pours. 

Streets flood with incinerating kisses and sensual touches intertwined with a rich, floral fragrance. 

To many, Alhaitham is known as a lunatic. Such a name fits the man whose mind was devoured by jasmine perfume. 

He couldn't get enough. 

Every inch of you, he had to learn about. He needed to properly store and encode such mesmerizing information into the recesses of his gluttonous mind. 

That intoxicating perfume permeated Alhaitham’s room and desperately held onto disheveled sheets. It was akin to the incense that scholars use to clear their minds and focus their bodies to become one with Irminsul. Yes, it was just like that. 

You couldn't help but feel so safe in his arms. The stars really do never lie. 

He loved every bit of you.

___ 

Sunlight peeked through translucent cotton curtains and illuminated the room. 

Alhaitham kissed your forehead and greeted you with a simple "Good morning" as you moved his hair from his face and took in his features. The intense perfume still persistently laced through his sheets. 

The domesticity of it all, from changing together to preparing breakfast, swelled your heart. It had been quite a while since you were last able to unwind like this. 

Alhaitham quickly took notice of your lax movements. Good. You were enjoying yourself as planned. By the time he's done, you won't be able to tell the difference between an innocent Sumeru Rose and a vicious Venus Flytrap.

He looked you up and down again. "How do you feel? Did you sleep okay?" 

"Yes, I haven't felt this relaxed for a while. Ever since I joined my Darshan, sleep has become a luxury. It was especially bad when I was first learning the basics because I would have to stay up all night long to study the stars and keep up with other research. At one point, I developed severe insomnia, but I’m fine now. Anyway… Yes, I did sleep well. This is the first time I’ve felt safe in a long while. Thank you, Alhaitham." 

He nodded and spoke, "That's good. If we are going to continue this relationship, then maybe in the future we can discuss more complex matters, such as living together more permanently."  

Your eyes widened as you took in his statement, but you soon giggled, “A little hasty, aren’t we, Alhaitham?” You poked fun at him. “What about poor Mister Kaveh?” 

He rolled his eyes at your teasing. 

Then he shrugged and bluntly defended himself, "It's only rational to think about these things, especially with your situation. Besides, I'm only putting them on the table—" 

There was a knock at his door. 

He noticed your jaw tighten in fear. Alhaitham pulled the strings of the puppet and played along with you. He muttered into your ear to hide from the front door's view just in case.  

The Scribe loved the way you obediently followed his orders and trusted so wholeheartedly everything that he said.  

When he opened the door, he didn't expect to be greeted by the Grand Sage Azar's assistant: Setaria. 

She told him how the Akademiya lost a knowledge capsule about the divine and how the Grand Sage wished for him to gather information on a certain blonde traveler.

A divine knowledge capsule and a heroic traveler from afar. How interesting. 

He crossed his arms and unceremoniously spoke, "I'll start my assignment soon." With that, he nodded, closed the door, and went silent again. Annoyance ran through his veins as he was pulled along into the Grand Sage's plot. A peaceful life as the Scribe was all he desired. Was it really that hard for the Akademiya to provide that?  

Turning around, the reserved man called for you. Your name rolled off his tongue too well, as if he was made to be the sole person on this forsaken continent to cherish and pronounce it. You carefully popped your head out from behind his bedroom door, the corners of your kissable lips turned down, forming a slight frown. 

"Is it all good?"

"Yes, it was just someone from the Akademiya for work. Speaking of, I have a little surprise for us." Alhaitham seemed to look right through you. "Do you want to hear it?" There was an excitement bubbling deep inside of him. Your stomach began to ache as he cloaked himself in mystery. 

You felt those hawk eyes analyze you again. "Uh, sure?" 

"How would you feel about going to Port Ormos for some academic research?" 

___

Alhaitham convinced you that it would help your situation. You could see if that uneasy feeling would follow you on your journey to the port. 

While the actual job itself is mundane and uneventful, as the Scribe, he receives many benefits. One was being sponsored by the Akademiya to stay in an upscale hotel with many amenities. 

Your shared suite had a lovely balcony with a nice view of the sea. Breathing in the refreshing salty air on a balmy day was energizing after being cooped up in such a stifling city of arrogant wisdom. Mere fool's gold.  

"If you want to go and explore, I would advise you to remain within the hotel grounds or near places that are guarded or populated in case anything were to happen. 

You turned to him. "Thank you for your concern, but I will just stay here. It's a nice room. I'll enjoy the breeze and finish up my papers on the balcony. Perhaps in your free time, we can do something together?"  

He thought about it for a second. "I'll see."

You deflated a bit. "Well, when do you think you'll come back?"

"Not anytime soon."

"Oh..."

"Anyway, I should be leaving now." Alhaitham pecked your cheek before heading out.

After unpacking, you began writing rough ideas for your ongoing thesis in your worn-out leather journal. As the clock kept ticking and the hours passed, you grew bored. Small sketches of constellations were sloppily drawn on the side with little notes as you tried to jot down as much information as possible. Becoming distracted, you began to doodle Alhaitham's constellation: Vultur Volans. You wanted to unveil so much more about him. You wanted the stars to guide you in your journey. 

Yet just as you were about to finish your little doodle, your pen ran out of ink.

You scribbled a few lines and circles to test it out one last time before throwing it in a nearby trash bin. It was nothing. A simple delay. 

Before going inside, you closed your leather journal and placed it on top of the stack of scrap papers so they wouldn't fly away. Going to your side of the bed, you opened your Adhigama wood nightstand and pulled out a few spare pens. However, when you sat down and attempted to use them, they didn't work. It was fine. You just happened to bring a bad batch. That was all. 

You knew Alhaitham brought a brand new set with him. It was still in his luggage, though... He was in such a hurry to start his job here in Port Ormos that he had no time to unpack. You always admired his diligence; it's what got him so far so quickly. He was your age, but you were still far behind. Though you couldn't blame him for tuning the world out and focusing just on his studies, he lost so much at such a young age. He was brave to keep looking towards the future despite his parents being gone. Even if he would say, "It was just the most rational thing to do." 

Alhaitham is a man with principles rooted in logic. He would understand why you were rummaging through his things. It wasn't an invasion of privacy! You two were a couple now; albeit new, the love was evident already. 

You were just going to borrow his pens, anyway. 

As you unlocked his luggage and looked for his case of supplies, you stumbled upon two similar containers in appearance and weight. Ugh! Which one was it? I suppose I'll just have to open them both… 

Moving your hand towards the zipper, you noticed your hand shake. Perhaps it was just getting cold. You had left the glass balcony door open, only closing the screen. The soft sound of the breeze and smell of sea salt slithered up your spine, invading your ear canals and nostrils. 

You placed your fingers on the zipper of the bag on the left. The sound of it unzipping was akin to the rustles of leaves and branches in a dark rainforest. What you found inside was a knowledge capsule. 

The pens were in the other bag. 

That was all. Alhaitham works under the Grand Sage. Of course you were bound to find certain items only he should be privy to. 

Yet why was it calling you like the irresistible knowledge that spills from the ivory, archaic branches of Irminsul? It was most likely empty, anyway, waiting to be filled with the information he would discover in the bustling Port Ormos. Why was the hollow, ravaging feeling in your stomach and heart returning to once again suffocate your organs and dry up your blood into grains of sand? 

Your journal was waiting for you. Opening the other bag, you got what you wanted. 

His pens. 

That was what you came for. 

However, the sharp pains and shivers ringing through your body reeled you into the infested desert and the pouring rainforest. A peek wouldn't hurt. Alhaitham would understand, right? He was the one that brought you here, after all, to keep an eye out for your situation. 

Yes, he's a man who knows his morals. Besides, how would he even know? It would be alright. He said himself that he wouldn't be coming anytime soon. 

As you gripped the green and gold knowledge capsule pulsing and flowing with information, you felt so conflicted. The unease was growing, yet you felt so sure that you were meant to do this. Opposing thoughts contrasted each other like fields of flowers flourishing amidst dunes of lifeless sand. It truly nauseated you.  

After establishing a connection with it, you felt it. A flash of memories entered into the recesses of your mind. As if two consciousness were merged together to form one single entity, you felt vines and tendrils weaving through your anatomy. Nearly every bit of knowledge you gained was something you already had experienced. Yet it was from a different perspective. Your face, your body, your studies, your smiles, your slumber, your pens, even your perfume. 

It was all there, only from a different angle.

For so long, you saw life from the eyes of a feeble mouse. Now, you could see what it was like to view the world from the perspective of a hungry vulture ready to gobble up its prey. You dropped the canned knowledge. You barely heard the thud it made with the flooring, as it was drowned out by all of the thoughts racing through your mind. 

Your eyes scattered to the open glass door with the closed screen. The breeze and saltiness of the sea were still there. 

It felt so far. 

Running to the balcony, you rushed to lock the glass door and fumbled to close the cotton curtains. 

"Didn't anyone teach you to clean up after yourself?" 

Alhaitham's voice made everything cold. Sharply turning your head, you faced the man who both tormented your life and made it so beautiful. He came back so soon. Too soon. 

"Once the Matra knows about this, you will go to prison, Alhaitham, for what you did to me!" Your hands were shaking as you bunched them into fists and furrowed your eyebrows. Tears were threatening to spill at any moment. 

He merely crossed his arms. His precise, uptight composure never faltered. "You think the Matra will do anything to me? I'm the Scribe. The right hand of the Grand Sage." He stepped closer to you. “Did you know there once was a Rtawahist student who was so desperate for sleep that they went to Port Ormos and looked for knowledge capsules to help their studies and cure their insomnia? The Matra were never able to track down the culprit." Alhaitham walked closer to you. "However, I think today, that could change. The usage of canned knowledge to gain an advantage over one’s peers in the Akademiya is strictly against the rules." He was always one step ahead of you.

"Is it not?"

Cupping your face and forcing you to look at his darkening eyes, he stared into you, drinking up the way you brimmed with fear. Just how he liked it. Everything was falling into place as calculated. He whispered into your ear. "Think of this as the 'thank you' you said you would give me that day." 

Alhaitham embraced you tightly, taking in the exquisite jasmine perfume he gifted you. Trembling in his arms, you felt so small and helpless. Dreams shattered as you thought of everything that you had learned. The stars and wise moon didn't lie to you that night. There's a man who loves you with all his being. There's a man who knows everything about you.  

Seeking what is forbidden will always be the downfall of humanity. 

Perhaps ignorance truly is bliss. 

Thank you so much for reading!!!

(⺣◡⺣)♡*

[jjkamochoso]

Imagine… Making Lemonade for Levi on a Hot Summer Day

Fluff

Postwar!Levi Ackerman x gn!reader

Warnings: none

The summer heat was scorching down on you as you stretched out on a lounge chair in your backyard, soaking up some sun. You were enjoying your lazy day, getting some much needed Vitamin D. You flipped through a magazine, your mind still blown by the fact that the glossy pages had entertained people for much longer than you had even known they existed. There were many things in Marley that were completely new to you and every trip to the market was filled with enchantment as you learned of all the wonders that had been held from you in your previous life in Paradis. Now, you and your boyfriend Levi were living it up together in your cottage and you couldn’t be happier. Speaking of Levi, you had a fantastic view of the raven haired man while he was hard at work, tending the garden. His white shirt was clinging to his sturdy back as he dug the spade into the dirt, his arm muscles flexing with each movement. When he was finished planting, you saw him lean back a little as he wiped the sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. The extra moisture made his whole body glisten; he looked absolutely divine and you couldn’t tear your gaze away from him. He cocked his head, finally acknowledging your unbridled interest in his figure.

“Didn’t your parents teach you that it’s rude to stare?”

“There’s no harm in admiring the spectacular view in front of me,” you said, cheekiness apparent in your tone. Levi scoffed and rolled his eyes, getting back to the task at hand, but you could tell that you flustered him a bit with your flirting as the pink tinge that now graced his face wasn’t just from the heat. You tried putting your focus back on your magazine but you started to feel quite parched. You decided to go inside and make some lemonade for yourself and your handsome boyfriend. You gathered everything you needed and began to squeeze the lemons. When you got enough juice, you made a simple syrup on the stove, then poured both of those and lots of water into a giant pitcher, mixing it all up. Taking out two tall glasses, you filled them up to the brim with ice and the lemonade, enjoying the relief of the cold that seeped onto your hand. You left your glass inside so you had an empty hand to open and close the back door and headed into the warmth of the outdoors.

“I got something to cool you down, hottie,” you greeted Levi, this time earning a groan and an eye roll.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” he chided, shaking his head when you attempted to wink at him. Though he found your antics silly, he also thought you were completely adorable with the way you showed your affection toward him. Putting words to his feelings was never his forte so having a partner like you, comfortable in expressing your attraction to him, was something he was extremely grateful for. You reached out your unoccupied arm to help steady Levi as he stood up from the ground, his legs shaky from exertion. You held up the glass of lemonade for him to take a sip from, hoping he wasn’t dehydrated from his time under the sun. He put his lips around the straw and took a long drink, eager to quench his thirst.

“Y/n, that’s really good. Thank you,” he said, giving you a close lipped grin.

“Of course,” you replied, brushing a stray piece of hair from his face. He suddenly got shy from the intimacy of your gesture, opting to study the ground instead of your face, though he still leaned on you as you helped him walk over to the patio where a chair in the shade was waiting for him. You sat him down and retrieved your own drink from inside the house before sitting in the chair next to him.

“Thank you for all your work,” you told Levi, a kiss lovingly placed onto his cheek. “The garden is beautiful. The flowers are going to look phenomenal this year.”

“Not as phenomenal as you look now,” he observed, meeting your eyes once more as you gasped.

“Levi! How uncharacteristically suave that was!” you exclaimed, playfully holding a hand over your mouth in faux shock.

“Tch. I can be romantic, you know.”

“Wow, I can’t believe I got the Levi “Loverboy” Ackerman to fall for me. How lucky am I?” you asked, swooning. “Ooh, maybe next time you can garden shirtless and give me a real show. It’ll be like those romance novels Hange always told me about.”

“Just drink your damn lemonade,” muttered the man, failing to hide the tenderness that appeared on his facial features at the sound of your laughter. You couldn’t contain your giggles, trying your best not to choke on your drink and Levi wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer and enjoying this carefree moment with you. The lemonade was the perfect drink for the perfect day with the perfect love of your life.

[elexaria]

brother’s best friend! johnny & simon pt 3

the journey back to manchester was daunting, seeing the same old architecture from your past felt like a punch in the gut. the phone call you make to simon was awkward, it was just to tell him that.. well, you would pop by to see him. didn’t tell him anything else, didnt even mention you left years ago.

after checking into a shitty little hotel with the little money you had, you made your way to the pub simon said he’d be at, and where johnny mactavish would also be. mactavish. it’s been a really long time since you’ve thought about him, and it feels strange to know you’ll get a glimpse of him as a 26 year old man, as opposed to the pimply faced teenager you remember.

“the strongest stuff you have, please.” you say dryly to the bartender, who glances at the clock— it’s barely noon, before looking back at you again. “joking. you got any J20?”

with your little bottle of orange and mango juice and a thin paper straw, you nestle down into a booth, pulling out your phone as you begin your wait. simon did say his train would arrive at around 10am, so where was he? that’s fine, the pub at least has free wifi you can use to mindlessly scroll through. and scroll, and scroll and scroll and scroll until—

“fancy seein’ ye here, wee riley!”

you glance up from your phone, mouth agape as you look dead straight at a grown up, scruffily bearded johnny mactavish. “jesus christ—“ you mumble under your breath, eyebrows furrowing at how.. massive and grown up he is. he grins down at you, still standing. “what? gonnae give me a hug or whit?” he chortles, wiggling his thick unruly eyebrows around you. yep, it’s definitely still the same old mactavish brother you remember.

“ye look different than when we was wee bairns. yer definitely the better lookin’ riley.” johnny grins as he shoots a playful wink at you, taking a big swig of lager to parch his thirst. your eyes flit to the beer foam that sticks to his moustache, which makes you giggle. “you’ve got a lil something on your moustache. you saving it for later?” you tease, motioning to where the foam sits on his face.

“yeah, soap, you savin’ that for later?”

if your head had turned around any faster, you’d have probably broken your fucking neck. simon.

he’s… he’s so different now.

rising from your seat, you glance up at your brother with a nervous gulp. you can tell from the way he glances down at you that his heart is damn near close to bursting when he sees how grown his baby sister is, she’s not the little chubby cheeked scamp he remembers. but he quickly shoves the emotions down, his shoulders squared up as he watches you draw closer to him.

“simon,” you mutter quietly, biting your lip as you awkwardly hug his side. it’s been so long, you almost contemplate whether a hug isnt appropriate. a handshake? awkward fist bump? simon grumbles, patting your back as he reciprocates the hug with the same awkwardness. johnny cringes slightly at how uncomfortable you and simon look.

you find out that johnny is known as sergeant soap, while simon is simply lieutenant ghost. “yer brother’s fuckin’ brilliant on the battlefield, he’s saved my arse more times than i can count.” johnny grins, nudging his shoulder into simon’s, who just simply looks down at his drink with furrowed eyebrows. you nod, chewing the inside of your lip. “why do they call you soap?” you ask, tilting your head at johnny. he howls with laughter, shaking his head at you. “ye don’t want to find out, lass.” he simply says, shooting a teasing wink at you. you shouldn’t be attracted to that, but it does gets your heart pumping a little faster.

“so, lass, what about ye? any’hink goin’ on in the life of wee riley?” johnny hums out, propping his arms up behind him on the booth’s rim, his muscles bulging out from his tshirt sleeves. jesus christ, he’s ripped.

stealing your gaze from his biceps with a flushed cough, you shrug and take a sip of your drink. “i’m studying for my masters up in leeds. i.. haven’t been to manchester since i left.” you finally admit, eyes glancing over to read simon’s face, which is stoney and unperturbed. johnny whistles, grinning as he nods at you. “leeds, eh? northern girlie, are ye?” he teases, nudging simon yet again. “can ye believe it, monsi? wee riley’s all grown up, doin’ her masters n shit. damn.”

you roll your eyes, feeling a rush of blood to your cheeks as you fidget with your drink bottle. “there’s two years between us, johnny. ‘m not as young as you think i am.” you mutter quietly, your gaze flicking up to read his reaction. he’s still grinning, though he nods in agreement. “aye, canny argue with that.”

simon doesn’t speak much the entire time you’re all there, it’s almost like he speaks through johnny at times. “si’s been wafflin’ on and on about today, ye ken. been lookin’ forward to the ol’ riley-mactavish clan finally gettin’ back together.” johnny says, the two of you glancing over at simon who simply grunts, the corners of his lips twitching up into what looks like a hybrid of a grimace and a smile.

but at least johnny doesn’t make it awkward, always going on and on about whatever floated through his mind. he gives you updates on his sisters, practically glowing when he gets the chance to gloat about becoming an uncle. “the wee bairns, they like me. mam reckons i’ll make a good dad one day.” he hums as he shows you a picture on his phone, one where he’s flexing his muscles while holding twin baby boys like the deadliest missiles that cute tactical intelligence could muster up. it’s cute, the way he lights up when talking about his life, even how excited he gets for your achievements in life. simon doesn’t seem to want to get a word in edge ways.

as the catch-up comes to an end, you awkwardly slide out of the booth, rubbing your hands together. “well.. it was nice seeing you both.” you say on bated breath, a look of disappointment flashing across your face momentarily as you glance at simon. johnny pouts as he stands, patting simon on the back with a solid thwack. “we’ll have to do some’hink together, all three of us. like the good ol’ days.” he says, grinning up at simon, who nods. “spose so.” is all simon seems to add to the conversation, looking down at you.

and as you all exit the pub together, johnny giving you one last hug with a content groan, you give them a small smile and a wave goodbye, asking them to just let you know what they decide on doing.

as you lay down in the grotty hotel bed, curled up between thin sheets, you think about this sudden revelation that the two boys from your childhood aren’t cherubic anymore. life isn’t full of giggles and adventures, it’s ruthless and it’s dangerous. and the sight of your big brother, stone faced and silent, it makes you feel guilty. does he resent you for not staying in contact? has it been too long to attempt to reforge your relationship with him?

with a sigh, you reach out to grab your phone from the bedside table, eyes watery as you check the time. 1am.

ping. you receive a text.

it reads, “hey wee riley, it’s johnny m. we’re thinking abt going clubbing sat night. u remember jamies near the maccies? just lmk if ur interested xx nice to see u xx”

looks like you’re gonna have to pick out a dress for saturday night.

tag list:

@waves-against-a-cliff @cassiecasluciluce @dead-cipher @hayleybarnesx @maliakealoha @sunflowervase @spicyspicyliving

[fictioninmyblood]

King Consort

Summary: ‘Queen of the Damned’ esq, Terry’s disciplined restraint awakens a queen of the damned. Maha, daughter of Akasha, is awoken on a half moon night when the sun kisses the moon in the light of day. After surviving the bloodshed and corruption of Shelby Springs without shedding the blood he wanted to, Terry finds himself under the gaze of a goddess whose thirst for balance in all things can suddenly only be quenched by his company. How did he get here? Does he ever really wanna leave?

A/N: I know I’m late ah and Halloween is over. Been having trouble getting the words out for this one. Part 2 hopefully dropping in the next 24-48hrs.

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, this part is preparation for nastiness I’m not done creating

———

Vampires knew the story of Akasha and Enkil, the first of the vampires, but no one knew of their most precious jewel, their daughter. Maha, the daughter that only showed herself in the night long before her parents were cursed had grown up a beautiful wildflower who kept to herself in the palace gardens of Kemet. Usually found with whatever scroll her father and soldiers brought back from their journeys. That hadn’t changed when her mother insisted she join them as creatures of the night. Hell, she already operated like a vampire as a human, why not capture her unappreciated beauty forever? Despite her mother’s convincing dreams of ruling the world as a family, Maha hadn’t awoken from her death with the same kind of thirst as her parents.

She survived through the ages at first on the blood of animals, but she’d known from the moment she turned that nothing would quite satisfy her thirst. That was until her first lover. A Zulu warrior who had been the general for 20 years, drafted into the army as a boy. The end of his committment to the throne had left him with a burning desire that was not as easy to surpress with nowhere to direct his thirst. To uphold the honor in which he had always approached women in the past, he walked out of his home village and never returned, too afraid that he wouldn’t always be able to restrain himself. Many wondered of his disappearance, but no one knew he’d found himself in the arms of the hidden wildflower of myth that only bloomed at night.

Though she had been looking for a king, it took no time for Maha to convince him to be her consort. He’d satisfied her thirst for a century with the beast between his legs that was powered by the beast that lived in his mind but it hadn’t been enough. The beast wasn’t true and when he’d finally fucked out all of his pent up sexual frustrations, the lure of eternity as a vampire went with it. He’d made love to her for the first and last time until sunrise and having never drank from Maha, burned away at first light. It had left Maha alone to wander the Earth alone again with nothing but scrolls to keep her company. Soon enough that wasn’t enough to keep her thirst for life satisfied, and so she slept. And slept…

Until she woke to the most devine smell of a man who was restrained in every way. It lured her from her Brazilian crypt and brought her all the way to bayous of the new world. America they called it now. She watched the man she learned was named Terry from the moment his monster reared its ugly head. The death of his cousin had awoken exactly the kind of beast she’d been missing in life, but somehow he kept his monster hiding behind those constantly changing eyes. She was suddenly starved for a meal that only one man could prepare. That man.

Even when he had plenty of opportunity to rip these dirty colonizing bastards apart he held an iron grip on his restraint and it made her parched in a way she never felt before. She’d craved sex before yes, but nothing like this. She wanted this man to eat her alive, spit her back out, and slurp her up again. Maha was enraptured by this creature and she wanted to see how much of that bike stamina transferred to the bedroom. She wanted to taste the passion he held in his human body and keep it for herself and as he rode his bike out of town for the last time she knew she’d do anything to get it.

As Terry went to sleep in the woods that night he dreamt of a voluptuous woman draped in transparent cloth and gold that seemed to be from a different time, helping him release the chains of restraint he had taken a lifetime to master. He’d bruised her, bloodied her, and fucked her like he wasn’t a man at all and she took everything he gave, welcomed it, and met his every action with her own monster. The man had no idea how he ended up here, between the legs of a goddess, but he never wanted to leave. Just as he came harder than ever before she bared her teeth to him and drank from the juncture where his manhood met his thigh.

Maha watched as he awoke suddenly, just barely making it far enough into the treeline to be able to witness him processing what she’d shown him in his dreams. Although Terry was frustrated to be waking up with the hardest boner he’s had in months, it pleased her to see him walk to the nearby stream, strip and dip the entirety of himself into the cold of the water. No matter how long he stayed in or started shivering, nothing was going to cool off the burning desire this goddess had lit ablaze within him though. He’d gotten out and made himself nut three times before he gave up and got back to moving. It pleased her even more when he repeated his actions the following two nights more frustrated and wild than the day before when she kept his dreams full of promises and sated her thirst with his life forces, both cum and blood. Not only did he sate her thirst, it felt as if he had restarted her heart, filling her with more than a desire to quench all of her thirsts. She felt so alive and now that she was back to full strength she went out to prepare for her new lover.

Meanwhile Terry had become desperate for a release that he didn’t know how to seek out. It didn’t matter though because Maha had renovated her estate in South America, updated it to please the needs of this time while keeping her original aesthetic. Drinking from him thrice allowed Maha the privilege of calling the man to her for the weeks that it took his human legs to get him there. If he had been an ordinary human her call would’ve drove him crazy, starving him of the rational thought needed to take care of himself, but that beast helped him to listen to the subconscious directions while keeping his conscious mind in tact. Unlike other boys that had showed up at her doorstep too malnutritioned to feed her, Terry had arrived in just as good of shape as she’d left him, if not better. If she didn’t know any better, the beast in him had physically manifested in the time she left him to stew in the desire she created.

He didn’t know why his drifting mind had brought him to this old home that sat alone in the forests of Guatemala, but when he knocked like he was demanding entrance into hell, Terry somehow knew this was where he belonged. It felt like a home for demons as well as his restrained self and although that had terrified the fuck out of him, being left to live without whatever this was a lot scarier.

Maha opened the door, leaned on it, and said, “Hello handsome, I’ve been waiting many millenia for you.”

Terry stood there taking in the goddess that had been haunting his dreams ever since he left Silver Springs. His whole journey here, somehow he knew that she was real, but now that he was here, all Terry could say, growling, was, “you.”

[ceddar-cheez]

Ok I have a minor gripe about Gale’s big romance night. Absolute spoilers because I’m just gunna brain vomit. I love this nerdy wizard a lil too much

So! I’m kinda peeved about how the choice to indulge Gale in magic sex has a lot more detail and effort than wanting to connect with him as a mortal in mortal flesh. You don’t even get naked when you choose mortal sex. It’s so disappointing because it feels like I made ‘the lame choice’ that they didn’t bother finishing and that undermines a big theme in his romance (or how I’m playing it)

I rolled a Barbie Bard so “love your true self!” is like central to the role play. So of course Barbie pushes that she loves him for his personality and not impressive tricks. But then if you go that route Gale is like ‘eh well if you wanna do it the old way then sure’. Like no no no Gale this is can be just as sensual as the other stuff… if not more really. The point is to empty your mind and be present in every part of your body. I used to overthink during sex (ADHD related) and it became a whole other level when I got out of my head. And like what is that magic sex if not Gale thinking reeeeaally hard?

Really I think the astral projection sex isn’t as amazing as he hypes it up to be. I mean just think, he says he hadn’t been with a mortal since being with Mystra and that relationship lasted a while (for how I interpreted it). I don’t think he’s had sex in his body in a long time. Cause Mystra doesn’t have a body, the astral sex would be fulfilling, but for Gale I can’t help noticing he left something behind

Himself

His whole body

That thing that feels touch and heat and pain

I think this illustrates what I think it feels like:

A tiktok woman (StruggleCare) was in labor and it was long and rough. She was in the hospital hooked up to an IV that was keeping her hydrated but she wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything in case they needed to do an emergency c-section. Her body was hydrated, but after so many hours she was begging for water to get rid of her awful thirst. Something about the experience of feeling water in your mouth is important to tell your brain it’s not in danger. (They did give her water and her birth went fine, just in case you wondered how this particular tale ended)

I feel like Gale’s “ascended” sex is like that IV. He’s been parched for so long that he doesn’t notice the thirst.

But here comes Barbie Bard and this man tripping over himself saying how he likes her musk. In the shadowlands he stops you to make a comment about how hot you look fighting and sweating.

Mystra doesn’t have a musk. Nor does she sweat.

So really the question is… when was the last time he was actually touched more than on the hands? I wanted to see that touched-starved desperation. I just love the idea Barbie Bard took a man with his head in the stars and fucked him back to his own humanity.

Very Hozier if I do say so. I like the theme of finding salvation in human after being failed by a god with unobtainable expectations. (Mystra and God god aren’t 1-to-1 so not perfect fit)

Anyway I don’t know where I’m going with this except I guess it’s time to bust out Procreate. I wanna hear other’s thoughts on this too

[featheredclover]

Shab-e-intezaar

Oneshot inspired by this word prompt by @arshifiesta

The night of awaiting 

_________

The streetlight burned as dusk coiled around the city of Lucknow. Like a bunch of princes to their favourite courtesan, a flutter of moths were drawn to the light.

Khushi stifled a smile at the impish comparison, as she hurried along the narrow roads of Lakshmi Nagar. 

———

“Amma, I am home” , she said with flourish, dropping her handbag onto the chair and her jootis kicked off elegantly over the mat.

“Hmm”, came the buzz of mild acknowledgment from Garima Gupta.

Khushi huffed out a breath in mock exasperation. 

“What is there in this god forsaken serial that I can’t get you to give your eyes a break for a second? The same old rich man- poor girl nonsense!”

“Hush Khushi!”

She tied her hair into a quick knot, and left for her evening bath, leaving her mother with her precious LED box.

———

“You just have to cook the chapatis baccha, I have made the curry” Garima smiled fondly as Khushi stood bent over the stove.

“Aah! AD break I assume?” She smirked.

“Of course!” Garima laughed, “Love stories…..”

Khushi spun around at her mother’s change of tone.

“They remind me of what your father and I shared”, her eyes misty with memories.

“Lies” Khushi smiled , “Papa wasn’t rich”

“He was rich in his heart! Joke all you want, but one day you’ll realise what I am talking about Khushi. So many proposals have come your way, but I have rejected them for I know that you deserve to marry for love”

“What rubbish! I’ll marry someone who mints money!”

“We’ll see”

And with that Garima was off to the living room again.

If she had paused, she would have seen the tell tale signs of a lie on her daughter’s face. The flushing of cheeks, the biting of lip and the nervous gesture of hands.

Khushi Kumari Gupta was in love.

————

She laid the fresh bed sheet over her mattress, humming an old Bollywood tune. Her room was set in muted tones of pink. She was a magpie in all essence. Her nani’s jewellery, her papa’s books and all the gifts she had ever received, were all stored beautifully in this room.

Her parents had worked hard over the years to buy this flat in the heart of Lucknow. Her papa’s death in that fatal car accident years ago didn’t dim her mother’s will to work. And so Khushi grew up with her mother as the headmaster of a government school, with ambitions of being a teacher herself.

She placed the test papers she had taken pains to correct in a file, and pushed them away on her desk with a sigh of relief.

“Semester exams done!” She said out loud to herself.

Switching off the lamp, she stood up and plunged the room into dimness.

With the strategy of a woman in love, she grabbed a book from her bedside table and walked with measured leisure to the ornate window.

The moon hid behind the clouds as she searched for him. Her fingers flipped the pages, hoping its flutter would bring him to his window. The window framing the wall neighbouring hers.

And then like the bride waiting for the moon on her first fasting, she was assuaged as the clouds cleared and the moon lit up his handsome face, shining the harsh lines of him into light.

“Arnav”, she breathed out as if parched from his thirst. Thirst of the man who had stolen her dreams, her heart and her peace.

“How were the semester papers? By your expression I can guess you are glad to be rid of them”, he smirked wickedly.

“Laugh all you want, but at least I don’t sit hunched over a computer all day!”, she said tongue in cheek.

He smiled, hands lifted up in defeat.

“I am a verified corporate slave”

He took a sip from his cup, his eyes holding her captive.

“Beautiful night”

She shook her head, “You say that every night”

“And I mean it every night”, he insisted, his voice ringing against the dark.

She cleared her throat, “So the heroine and hero got stuck in a lift today”

He chuckled, “I am amused how Garima aunty suffers this everyday”

“Tell that to her,” she grinned.

“That her favourite show lacks originality? No way!”

“It’s cliche! But it works…”

Arnav set his cup aside, resting his forearm on the ledge, leaning over.

“They sell dreams don’t they? We wait all our lives. Some live and lose. But they sell our dreams to us..”

Khushi sighed, “Making the wait bearable?”

“Agonising” his whisper lit up her night.

—————

The staff room was not unaffected by the lazy afternoon. The fan whirred in the corner as the two friends sat hunched together.

“Her wedding was simply stunning! Her dad spent so much.”

She looked on, bored as Payal recounted their colleague’s wedding last week. She had missed it due to her cousin’s wedding the same day.

“Payal! What about the groom? Does he suit Sheetal?”

“Well….he is balding. And he has a paunch. But that won’t matter in America would it?”

“Sheetal had a poster of Salman on her wall”, Khushi mumbled.

“So what Khushi? Life is not a movie. No one is going to get a Salman or Shah rukh. We are going to get nice men with heavy pockets”

“Akash is certainly not just a nice man” she smirked.

Payal playfully smacked her hand, before settling down despondently.

“His mother doesn’t approve.”

“Does that matter? He is willing to fight anyone for you. He got that apartment near the junction-“

“Yes! But I didn’t want him to give up his family. I want him to have everything he wants”

Khushi closed her hand over Payal’s fist.

“He loves you. And if a few sacrifices are what life demands from him, that’s okay. Because how happy he’ll be with you matters the most!”

She smiled, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

“Thank you Khush”, she choked out.

————-

She stood by her window, gazing out at his closed one, her hand drying her waist length hair gently.

 Payal had texted her this morning, asking her to be one of the witnesses for their registered marriage. 

It was happening. After all the hardships, Akash was finally marrying Payal. She couldn’t be more happier for the two of them.

Raizadas were going to lose another son, she thought. Arnav had left the grandiose of Sheesh Mahal two years ago, to live in this humble settlement.

“Just exhausted, Khushi. They wanted to control everything. My life, my soul, my very breath”

She recalled his words with a pang. He had to suffer so much, before he could finally break free.

And now Akash…..

Walking over to her almirah, she looked for her favourite Anarkali. 

White. For purity. For innocence. For new beginnings. 

For Akash and Payal.

She was happy for them. Why wouldn’t she be? She had been a Cupid to their story, nonetheless.

But when her gaze settled on the neighbouring window, she felt a twinge of anxiety. She hadn’t revealed her own heart to Arnav, let alone expect him to return her love. 

She had her share of sleepless nights, worrying that any day now, he will bring home a woman. Her heart will break. And all those unplayed heartbreak CDs in her possession will finally get a chance to echo in her room.

Slipping on a pair of jhumkas, Khushi draped a dupatta over her and walked out to say goodbye to her mother.

———-

“Arnav!”

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Empty tea cups rested on the coffee table. Her mother greeted her with a soft, serene smile.

“Amma-“

“Isn’t it time? Payal will be waiting” , her mother interrupted.

“But-“ , she frowned.

“After all, you'll be late when you reach there”, she turned back to Arnav, “I think you should stay there tonight beta”

“The register office is fifteen minutes from here!”

“We are going to Agra. Did you think the Raizadas would let Akash get married here?”

She stared at him. Unsure of the change in plans, of this tea with her mother, unsure of him and the way he was looking at her.

“It’s a four hour car ride Khushi, you better leave now!” Her mother was now on her feet, almost pushing her daughter out of the door.

“Shall we?” 

Her hand slid into his.

Agra it is.

————

“Please sign here” the grumpy man mumbled.

She looked on as Akash’s two colleagues signed the paper.

“Khushi”, Arnav placed a hand on her waist, pushing her forward.

She took the pen in her hand, muttering a prayer under her breath before noting down her signature.

Joy and claps filled the air as the couple was pronounced husband and wife.

Khushi looked on with tears in her eyes and a smile on her face, as Akash kissed Payal softly, ignoring the registrar’s gasp of outrage.

Love had won again.

————-

She was a romantic. She had always been. Even when she had first visited the Taj Mahal with her mother at the young age of ten, she had found her heart aching at the majestic symbol of love. Shah Jahan’s number of wives or his harem didn’t matter. There was love that thrived beyond graves, and that’s all that mattered.

Khushi soaked in the beauty the monument was, under the cover of the night. Wrapping her dupatta, firmly around her shoulders, she walked beside Arnav, who seemed so deep in thought, she almost felt jealous.

“I never thought it could be more beautiful”, she broke through the silence.

“You love the nights, not surprising”, Arnav smiled.

Rows of trees lined their path, the distant lights illuminated their footsteps, as the breeze swayed.

“Shab-e-intezaar”, he said out loud.

“Shab-e-intezaar? What are you waiting for?”, she asked, puzzled.

He smiled in that mysterious way of his.

Her breath left her as he caught her wrist and pulled her against him. Wide eyed, she looked up at him, pure shock and pleasure running through her whole being.

“This”, he whispered, before his mouth came down on hers. 

His lips were unbearably soft. The slight way he moved against her was driving her crazy. Something primitive rose within her, as her hand clutched his shirt, pressing herself against him firmly.

He was quick to know her. Entangling her within his arms, he tightened his hold.

Breathless she broke away, resting her head against his. She felt his warmth on her nose, before her head was tilted up.

“I love you Khushi”, he kissed her again.

Khushi’s hand tightened on his wrist.

“I love you too”, she whispered back.

Arnav broke into a delicious smile. Holding her hand he stepped away.

Ignoring the sudden bout of shyness flooding her, she held his eyes as if her life depended on it.

He bent down on one knee.

“Happiness found me, while I was leaning against my bedroom window one night. I still thank whatever gods are up there, who brought me to you, Khushi. I am in love with you. With your spirit, your heart, your eyes. I am just a man in love with you”, his voice wavered at the end.

She swallowed thickly, her vision blurring with emotion.

“With the blessings of Garima aunty”, he cracked a wry grin, “I would like to ask you if you want to be my wife? Spend the rest of our lives, no longer separated by walls and windows?”

“I will”, she let out a sob.

She crashed into him, arms entwining around him as he almost tumbled onto the ground.

His laughter filled her ears, and she glanced up at the beautiful Taj Mahal, framed by their night.

Love had found them. After a long shab-e-intezaar.

----------

Hope you liked this story! Dedicated to all those beautiful nights ~ I urge you to look out your window tonight and wish something special for yourself ;)

Let me know what you think of the story! All constructive criticisms welcome ❤️

Tagging:

@hand-picked-star @phuljari @msbhagirathi @thenainitaldisaster @thedupattaknowswhatsup @jalebi-weds-bluetooth @barshifan @andli @shiyaravi @chutkiandchotte @laad-governess @minpdnim @bigfatreader @arshiradio @simplycurlz @scorpio-smiles @bengudill @exosexosekai @0218fm

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list!

[aishangotome]

Elbert Greetia: Mad Love Chapter 24 Premium Story

Mad Love Chapter 24

♡———♡

Elbert locked the first-class cabin door securely from the inside.

The faint sounds of nighttime London were cut off, and silence filled the room.

Kate: Elbert, my lo—

Before I could finish, our lips met.

Kate: Mmm... Is it okay not to return to the castle...?

Elbert: ...Yes.

Elbert: I can't wait until we get back to the castle.

Kate: Ah... Mmm...

Elbert: Tonight, I won't let anyone else see you or hear your voice...

As we shared a kiss that seemed to melt our souls together, we fell onto the bed. Elbert traced my body with his palms, quenching his thirst like a man parched in the desert.

Kate: Ah...!

Elbert: Tell me, Kate...

Elbert: What were you doing and thinking while we were apart...?

Kate: Mmm... I was thinking about you, Lord Elbert...

Kate: Always, in the corner of my mind...

Elbert: ...Me too.

Elbert: You were always in the center of my heart.

Elbert: Wondering if you were safe. If you were hurt anywhere...

Elbert: ...Strip off your clothes and show me everything.

Elbert's feelings for me during our time apart seem to burn through my body, and wanting to respond to that heat, I gently untied the ribbon at the back of my neck.

Kate: I'm alright. See...?

Elbert: ...Kate.

Overcoming my shyness, I slipped off my blouse and revealed my bare skin. Elbert traced my skin slowly with his palm, as if to confirm.

Elbert: Thank goodness...

He kissed my chest, looking a bit relieved.

Kate: Mmm... Lord Elbert, are you...?

Elbert: Me...?

Kate: ...Are you hurt?

I reached out and touched him through his clothes, as if to confirm with my fingertips.

Elbert: Even after what I went through... you're worried about me.

Elbert: Thank you. ...No, I'm not hurt at all.

Elbert took my hand, which was touching his body, and gently led me to the bed.

Elbert: Kate...

Elbert: Did anyone touch you while I was gone?

Kate: ...

For a moment, Alfons' face flashed through my mind.

Elbert: .............

Perhaps he noticed my slight panic, as a shadow crossed Elbert's eyes.

Elbert: ...Don't hide it.

Elbert: Tell me.

(If I tell him, Elbert will...)

Elbert: ...Al?

Kate: ...

Seeing my hesitation, Elbert asked, as if he had sensed something.

It was phrased as a question, but it seemed almost like a certainty.

(...Staying silent will probably make him more uneasy.)

Kate: Well... Alfons...

Elbert: ...What did Al do?

Kate: ...

Elbert: Kate... Tell me.

Kate: He kissed me on the lips, just once—

Before I could finish, he cut me off with a biting kiss.

(I shouldn't have said anything.)

(But... I couldn't hide it.)

Kate: Mmm, ah... El... Mmm...

He relentlessly stole my breath, leaving me no room for excuses as I melted into him.

His blue eyes, without even blinking, stared at me throughout the entire kiss.

Elbert: Hey, you... who do you belong to?

A thick, syrupy desire is poured into the sweetly melted center of my mind.

Kate: To Lord Elbert...

As I answer with a hot breath, Elbert gives a chillingly beautiful smile on his wet lips.

(I can't believe it, but)

I remember being blamed for calling out another person's name in bed, but I can't help but ask, and I open my mouth.

Kate: A-Alfons...

Kate: You wouldn't kill him, would you...?

Elbert: .............

Elbert: If it had been someone else who kissed you... maybe.

A shiver runs down my spine as his eyes suddenly darken.

Elbert: But... Al wouldn't take what's mine.

Elbert: Al hates being "special" to someone...

(... Now that I think about it, Alfons said something similar)

He said it would be troublesome if I trusted him – after he kissed me.

(Does Elbert... know the true meaning of those words?)

The two of them may have a part that only they can understand.

(Alfons is probably the only person in the world who Elbert would allow to kiss me)

The thought of it stirs a little jealousy in my heart.

Elbert: But... if you ask for him, he will respond.

Elbert: ...Al is that kind of person.

Elbert: That's why... don't ask for Al.

Kate: I-I won't ask for him. The only person I want to kiss is Lord Elbert--

Elbert: --I know. But for now, listen to what I say.

Kate: Ah...

My hands are tied together above my head, and I can't move an inch.

Elbert: So that you don't look for Al,

Elbert: I need to fill you up with me.

Kate: .....!

A shiver ran down my spine as I looked into his eyes, tinged with a hint of danger.

It was as if my entire being was about to be painted over with his colors.

(It's a little scary.)

(But...)

I relaxed her body and gently closed my eyes.

I wanted him to know, deep down, even with his twisted love, I wanted to stay by his side.

(Elbert, that's why... )

(Because you're the one who's most sensitive to sadness and pain.)

(It's okay.)

Kate: ... Please, fill me up.

Elbert: Kate...

Elbert: ...You're trembling.

Gently, he cupped my chest with his palm.

My heart pounded wildly, echoing the rapid beat of his own.

Kate: Mm...

Elbert: Are you scared, Kate?

Kate: No... I'm not scared.

Elbert: --I'm the one who's scared.

Elbert: Even if you don't want to, I'm afraid I won't be able to stop.

Kate: Ah--

Elbert's hands slowly distort the shape of my breasts as he presses the tips between his fingers.

A sweet numbness crept up my spine, and I kicked the sheet, my leg caught in the other hand.

Kate: W-wait, Lord Elbert... the light...

Elbert: ...I won't turn it off.

Elbert: Show me everything.

He removes my skirt and underwear, which were clinging onto my waist.

Elbert takes them off gently as to not hurt me, but he spreads my legs more forcefully than usual, making my heart beat harder and harder.

Elbert: ......You're so wet.

Kate: L-Lord Elbert....ah, ahhh.

Elbert: Listen...can you hear it?

His fingers penetrate into my wetness, making a lewd squelching sound as he continually went inside.

Kate: Ah, no... Lord Elbert, don't look...

Elbert: Why not? You're so cute.

Kate: N... ah!

Elbert: See... it's overflowing.

Elbert: This place already knows my fingers.

His fingertips stimulate all my sensitive spots over and over again, heating up my body and making me feel cornered.

Kate: Elbert, wait, wait---

The core of my body convulses with a strong stimulation that I had never felt before.

Elbert: To see you in such a disheveled state... it's a sight that belongs only to me.

Kate: Ahh.... Elbert, ah...Nnn...!

Before the lingering sensation had a chance to fade, I was once again pierced by heat, deep within.

Kate: Mmm...

My hands were already free, and I reflexively tried to cover my mouth, but he caught them again and pushed me back onto the bed.

Elbert: Haa... Don't hide it. Tell me everything.

Kate: But...

Elbert: ...Kate.

Even though he was holding me a little more forcefully than usual, he looked at me as if asking for forgiveness, and my chest ached with love.

Kate: Ha... Mm... Alright.

Kate: I won't hide anything anymore...

Kate: Please, just for now, let go of my hands... I want to hold you.

Elbert: Kate...

My arms were freed from their restraints, and I wrapped them around Elbert.

Elbert narrowed his eyes lovingly and nuzzled his cheek against my neck.

Elbert: ...Thank you.

Kate: But... I might make those strange sounds again.

Elbert: I don't think they're strange. Every sound you make is lovely.

Kate: Th-That's not true... Ah!

Elbert: It is, to me.

Elbert: I want to capture them all... keep them forever.

Elbert: I love everything about you... Kate.

Elbert whispered in a blissful voice—

And he didn't let me go all night long.

-

The next morning—or rather, a little past noon—as we walked through the streets of London on our way back to the castle, I suddenly remembered the inn decorated with blue poppies.

Kate: I didn't know you had bought Daisy's inn.

Elbert: Ah... I was planning to tell you once it was all fixed up.

Kate: I see... The blue poppies looked lovely there.

Elbert: ...Yes, I think so too.

The place, once shrouded in sad memories, would one day become a beautiful shop overflowing with flowers.

The thought of Daisy brought a pang of sadness to my heart, but the thought of a warm future brought a smile to my face.

(I wonder if Elbert felt the same way when he decided to get that shop.)

(He even told Alfons about his feelings. Behind my back...)

(...What has he been thinking about since yesterday?)

I couldn't help but feel a growing sense of jealousy.

Kate: Yesterday, did you do anything else... without telling me?

Elbert: Huh...?

Kate: I did my best to not follow you around. So... you could at least tell me, right?

Kate: About the inn, and why you left the castle...

Kate: Alfons seemed to know.

(Oh no... what am I doing?)

My true feelings spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Kate: While we're apart, what are you thinking about, what are you doing...

Kate: I want to hear it from you, Elbert.

Elbert smiled at me, seeing my slightly petulant tone.

Elbert: ...Hehe.

Kate: ...What?

Elbert: You're jealous of Al.

Kate: ...!

Elbert: Cute.

Seeing his happy smile, the embarrassment of my childish behavior faded away.

Kate: ...I'm sorry. I was jealous.

Elbert: If you're apologizing for this kind of jealousy, I'll have to apologize a hundred times over...

Kate: Hehe... You don't need to. I'm happy.

Elbert: Me too... So we're even.

Elbert: Yesterday... I got rid of all the unnecessary things in that mansion.

Kate: ...!

Elbert: The servants, the things I collected when I lived there...

Elbert: I don't need them anymore.

Elbert: The only things I want to put in that mansion now are the things I need to be happy with you. That's all.

Elbert smiled with gentle eyes.

Kate: I see...

(Elbert... let go of so many things while we were apart.)

I couldn't tell how much sadness and loneliness swirled in his heart from his calm expression, so I gently took his hand and squeezed it.

Elbert: Kate...?

Kate: Once again... welcome back, Lord Elbert.

Elbert: Ah... I'm home.

Elbert squeezed my hand back tightly, looked out over the bustling streets of London, and muttered as if to himself:

Elbert: Even after having you all to myself yesterday... when you smile, I start thinking strange things again.

Kate: Strange things...?

Elbert: ...I want to take you away from that castle.

Kate: Huh...?

Elbert: I was thinking about it on the way to the mansion.

Elbert: I wondered if I could take you to that mansion and live there together.

Kate: Together... in your mansion?

Elbert: ...Yes.

(I had thought we would continue to live together at Crown Castle, but...)

(Now that I think about it... after a month, I can live anywhere, right?)

Victor had said that my choice was free.

(Living together in Elbert's mansion...)

I tried to imagine this unexpected option, feeling a bit flustered.

(If we did... I'm sure I could help him replace the sad memories of that place with our happy days together.)

I remembered the entrance of the inn decorated with blue poppies.

There was a warm, gentle, and peaceful atmosphere.

Kate: That sounds... wonderful.

Elbert: .............

Elbert blinked, surprised by my agreement, even though he was the one who brought it up.

Kate: Oh... was that a joke?

(I took it seriously... How embarrassing.)

Kate: ...Oh.

Ignoring my worry, Elbert hugged me tightly.

Elbert: It wasn't a joke. I was just a little... overwhelmed with joy.

His whisper was filled with a reassuring calmness.

It dyed my heart with the vibrant colors of spring buds.

.

.

.

.

.

Mad Love Chapter 25

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[tojisun]

going feral for toxic!biker!simon or dbf!biker!simon grrrgrrrawrarrara

hhhhhehehe im going feral too omggg!!! and im sorry for how late i replied to this 😭 i was spiralling when i saw it and i couldn’t contain the desire i have for this man ahhhhhh

this got too long (and dark) and i made simon an ass so im sorry! i was hit with a writing bug and i never looked back

!! brief smut - minors dni; age gap (40s vs 20s); dad’s best friend!simon; power imbalance; toxic relationship // biker!simon mlist

the attraction had been one-sided, you know that, so you wonder why simon's come to reciprocating your affections like this – spoiling you in front of his friends, the ones that you know he kept separate from his and your dad’s usual circle, and lovingly calling you his.

-

simon sent you the message at three in the morning, when you were still asleep, and it read: I’m picking you up tonight. Dress cutely, you’re meeting friends.

you replied back, asking him what he meant or even where you two were going, but simon had gone back to giving you radio silence, pretending that your messages aren’t coming in. your heart broke but it wasn't like it was anything new – simon offered pieces of himself to you, sometimes as a reward and sometimes as an apology, and you always foolishly thanked him.

then when you ask for more, he pulls away, giving you silence and letting you stew in his sudden detachment. so really, it shouldn't have been a surprise to you anymore. still, you laid on your bed, blinking up at the ceiling as you tried not to drown in the weight of your sorrow.

which is why this is new. unusual, even for simon.

he picked you up from your dorms just like he said, although you were surprised to see him roll in on his bike. he never let you on his bike, always choosing his car when picking you up. you fooled yourself into thinking it was for your safety, that it was for your own good, but you've seen simon bring dates on his bike.

you've seen how he's always brought extra helmets for the pretty dolls he proudly flaunted around whenever your parents invited friends for parties and dinners, possessive arm curled around their waist like he wants to brand his claim on them. or how he's always ignored you when they're around, his attention so sinfully glued to his dates like a man starved of affection. or how he'll sit back and watch as they pat your head and pinch your cheeks because, “well, aren't you a sweetheart?”

simon's bikes are reserved for the people he brings home. people he fucks. so it was never extended towards you. never something you had the privilege to, until tonight apparently.

“simon?” you asked, hesitating to climb up behind him.

simon grunted, twisting until he could see you and you watch yourself from the visor – wide eyes and tensed shoulders – as simon tipped his head down just enough to study the way your pretty dress fluttered as the wind blew. you did not hear it but you've seen the way his chest moved as he sighed. instantly, you felt like a bother, and you curled further into yourself as though it could hide you from his knowing eyes.

he lifted himself from his bike before turning to walk towards you. you averted your eyes from him even though his visor was still up – yet another wall that kept you away from him – before seeing scuffed boots stop just in front of you.

“look up f'r me, kid.”

you did as he told, your eyes flicking up and peering through your lashes. simon's still helmeted, still distancing himself from you, and you wondered what sick power play was he trying to accomplish.

you twisted your fingers together, waiting, obedient – just like how he wants them – even when you simmered in the heavy silence, until simon began to strip his jacket off.

you felt lightheaded, your throat parched with a sudden thirst at seeing the inked arms you have been shamefully daydreaming about. he has a new tattoo, you realized as you trailed curious glances over the fresh ink but not able to properly see it for what it was.

simon huffed a laugh and you startled, blinking up at him again only to realize that he's moved so close – closer than what he's ever allowed before. you stammered on your words, glossy lips parting in surprise, but simon remained unmoved by your clear interest and began to tie his jacket around your waist in silence, tucking your skirt underneath and securing the sleeves tightly.

“there,” he said, his voice a muffled rumble. “now y'r ready for the ride.”

you trembled at the sinking reality; that what had been daydreams and wishful thinking were now laid before you. you bit your lip to stop a sniffle because there simon was, holding your hand throughout as he hefted you on his bike. you felt overwhelmed with the intensity of your affections, trailing your eyes away from him again when he fixed a spare helmet on your head. you jolt when he snapped the visor down, and simon laughed, a pretty muffled sound.

you watched as he climbed in front of you, shaking hands unsure as they held onto his hips. simon, of course, noticed.

“y've gotta hold on tighter, sweet girl,” he said before tugging at your hands and wrapping them around himself. you bit down a broken squeal, feeling jumpy now that you're actually touching him. the purr of his engine blanketed your spiralling thoughts and you held him tighter when he drove off.

-

“why, aren't you a bonnie lass?” johnny, the one who had been too excited at meeting you, says before snorting when it makes simon wrap his arm around you tighter, pulling you ever so closer to him. “and big man's too possessive, isn't he?”

simon grunts from beside you, taking over when you continued to blink at him in shocked silence. “well, y'said it already, johnny.” you freeze when you feel his lips press on the top of your head. “my girl's too pretty, it's making me greedy.”

your breath hitches, your fingers twitching in phantom desire to fist at your dress if only to ground yourself. my girl, simon said, the lies slipping past his lips easily. my girl, he told his friends as though it is the truth. as though you could ever be.

simon’s hand glides down to your hips, squeezing the flesh, and it makes you squeak. both him and johnny croon, flashing matching grins at each other like you’re not there, while simon’s other friends – kyle, the youngest, and john, the one with a storm hidden in his eyes – snicker to each other.

“little mousy, isn’t she?” john asks, the rumble of his voice stark even amidst the booming music filling up the packed space of the bar.

simon hums, still caressing your hip, his hand occasionally dipping towards the side of your thigh, teasing the hems of your dress, before tugging upwards again.

“she is and it’s endearin’,” simon replies, still continuing the facade. because what else could it be?

simon had given you bits of his attention, entertaining you just enough that you keep running after him and chasing the softness you know he has, but he’s never given more. not an honest touch nor a whisper of affection.

so this – whatever this is – makes you tremble. it makes you ache.

you cross your legs together, squeezing just enough to put pressure in your throbbing core. the action was smooth, almost unnoticeable, and it should’ve been, but simon’s trained eyes catch the movement anyway.

he lets out a quiet groan, the sound bundled around a tinge of pleasure as he presses his lips on the top of your head again. you gasp at having been caught, bright eyes flicking up to see if his friends had noticed but johnny’s body is already turned towards a pretty brunette and kyle is tapping on his phone and-

oh.

john’s eyes are on you.

there is a moment when you are reduced to cold dread and static, lost in the smoke hidden within john’s eyes and simon’s possessive touch, before the band snaps and by then, you are on your feet. the action causes the empty beer bottles to clatter against the table which snag the attention of johnny and kyle, but you ignore them all as you sidle away from simon’s side, batting away his outstretched hand, before bolting towards the washroom.

you feel like a fool. like a doll made to entertain their sick and twisted games because that is what it is, isn’t it? simon got too bored with his dates and decided to string you along – someone easy. someone desperate for all he can give.

your eyes blur as tears pool and you barely make it to the bathroom when a hand curls around your wrist, yanking you away from the door.

“kid, stop-”

“no!” you scream, whirling around to look at simon. big and beautiful and not-yours simon. “i’m tired of playing your sick games, si. get away from me!” you try to shake him off even though you know it is futile.

simon continues to stare down at you, his lips pinched in disappointment – a look you are too familiar with.

and it’s that which makes you cry, a broken sob ripping from your throat and into the space between you two. you had hoped at least that the loud bass booming across the bar could drown it out, but you hear your whimper ring amidst the noise. jesus.

simon continues staring. continues to be silent. you don’t know how much more of this you can take.

(more. gods, you can take more as long as he allows you. as long as he is in your life. you know whatever this is between you and simon have long sizzled into something toxic. something codependent. but you need him, no matter how twisted he’s become because simon indulges you, anyway.

you remember the quickies in the bathrooms. the rumble of, “y’r doin’ so good f’r me, sweet girl,” whispered on the top of your head as he fucks his fingers into you. the marking, the nipping. the praises. the growled, “y’r only mine, aren’t you, pretty?” when he licks along your slit.

simon gives in a way that teases the yawning in your soul. in a way that carves more of himself into your very being. so how could you let go? how could you move on?)

simon tugs you towards him and you follow on unsteady feet. he wraps you in his arms, his lips falling onto your forehead. he breathes you in and you crumble, nuzzling your face into his scent – leather and ozone and forest.

“let’s get you home, yeah?” he asks.

you sniffle. “can i come home with you today?”

and simon stays silent, backing away just enough to tug you out of the bar and towards his bike. your lips wobble but you do not ask again, not when you know you can’t come back with him to his place.

the cold wind isn’t all that makes you tremble.

RUNNING AWAY WHOOP WHOOP!! update: it’s now edited <33 yippeee

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 99 }

the man who carries sunshine in his veins.

vash x fem.reader

story specific tags: @bunny-kio

meeting vash was like being exposed to the warmth of the sun-

and it was a meeting that you weren't going to forget, nor regret, any time soon.

the shifting sands felt blowing across no man's land was close to stinging at your eyes, disrupting you from your slumber as you winced. the cold air seeming to blow across the desert landscape was what ultimately forces you to instinctively take cover, inching your form closer to the young man that slept beside you.

upon feeling his warmth seep into you, you allow yourself to let out a quiet sigh and spend this time to admire vash when he was the most vulnerable. his signature sunglasses were tucked somewhere within the confines of his red coat. his calm, blue-green eyes hidden beneath closed eyelids whilst his lips were parted as soft breaths were felt tickling your skin.

lifting up a hand, you gently grace at his soft features, feeling soft giggles escape from the confines of your throat as your voice whispers to him. "thank you, for if it weren't for you, i surely would have died while being buried within these sands..."

you trail off and allow the memories to wash over you, bringing you back to the day where your eyes first laid eyes on him-

the moment where your soul felt the warmth of the sun for the first time.

it was difficult to survive out on your own while in the midst of no man's land. surrounding you were sands that seemed keen on drowning you as your boots seemed to sink within such heated depths. the sweltering sun did little to appease the sweat that runs down your form, making the clothes cling to you like a second skin that you couldn't peel away from.

the stark contrast of the heated days and the cold, lonely nights whilst spent in such a desert were truly taking a toll on you. you had always been alone, not quite fitting in anywhere nor with anyone as you spent your days simply trying to survive when you found yourself castaway within the desert lands.

your usual activities for survival consisted of scavenging for any items you could find. what truly became a scarcity for you was coming across any sources of water. be it bottled or dripping from a leaking pipe, the search for such precious liquid to help with quenching your thirst was becoming quite the challenge for you-

which made your day particularly difficult.

you were dehydrated; that you were sure of as a haziness seemed to put cogs from within your mind. your heart was beating erratically as your whole body seemed to burn up in response to the sun that continues to beat down on your form.

the winds blowing across the lands makes you cough in response to how you had swallowed some grains of sand. your throat was parched, and your vision was steadily becoming blurry. your body ached as your muscles seemed to cramp with each step that you took, making it truly difficult for you to go on.

with a gasp, you succumb to your exhaustion and fall down to your knees. your breathing comes out as labored, the sweat seeping from your frame was making you feel even more fatigued. you lose your consciousness then, ready to simply die from dehydration as you allowed yourself to finally sleep after fighting for so long.

there was a darkness spreading through the depths of your heart and soul. you just felt so hopeless and alone. the same coldness that mirrors that of the nights spent in the desert was felt coursing through you when you finally resign yourself to falling into a deep slumber that you had no plans of awakening from-

only to feel something cold splashing against your skin just as you were close to drowning. you wince at such an odd sensation, eyebrows physically furrowing in response as a soft groan was elicited from your throat. all you wanted was to sleep; to rest and appease the weariness that was felt within your very bones.

"hey! come on, wake up! you can't sleep like this!"

this time, the splash came with a concerned voice, finally rousing you from your sleep as you slowly opened your eyes. your irises were lifeless, defeated almost, when you saw a young man with spiky, golden blond locks of hair looking down at you with pure concern in his gaze.

his eyes were hidden beneath sunglasses, but you swore you saw eyes that shared the same hues of a blue sky from beneath such shades. the stranger's lips were tilted downwards in a frown as he lifts the flask once more, allowing you to finally realized that it was water he was splashing on your face. when one of the droplets manage to slide down your cheeks and into your open mouth, you could feel the life slowly get back into you as your eyes widen in response.

the kind, yet strangely beautiful young man helps you sit up all while holding the flask filled with water towards your dry lips. "careful, take slow and steady sips. i don't want you to choke or anything." you follow his advice, even if it took you a herculean effort to simply take gentle and careful sips when you were parched for so long.

when the flask was emptied, you found that you had regained your strength as you were able to sit up, remaining close to your savior as he settles your form between his legs. your eyes were filled with gratitude for him, yet you struggled with finding the right words to say.

the young man was silent as well, but he had a smile appearing across his soft, yet handsome features. lifting up a hand, to gently grace against your features. such a gentle caress catches you off guard as you end up instinctively moving back, nearly falling in response-

only to have the man steady you as you felt something cool touching against your back. from your periphery, you could see the metal prosthetic arm that takes over the entirety of his left arm. seeing such a thing makes your heart ache in response. just what horrors and pain had this young man been through to warrant him wearing a prosthetic arm?

"what's your name?" his voice was soft, as if reading your mind based on your expression alone when he asks his question after spending quite some time in silence. meeting his curious gaze, you relinquish the syllables that make up your name to him, earning a smile from the young man as such a soft visage was enough to make your heart race in response. he says your name for a few more times, repeating them in a way as if to cherish such syllables before telling you his own name.

"it's nice to meet you! and- well, you can call me vash, if you want...?"

his smile was sheepish now, making you giggle in response- such a happy sound even catching you off guard as you held your hands over your lips in response. for some odd reason, you felt embarrassed, but the sounds of vash's own laughter was enough to make such feelings disappear.

gently, he removes your hands away from your lips, making it impossible to hide the sudden grin that graces your features as his own smile paints his expression, "don't hide your laughter, it actually sounds really...really sweet to me."

your heart was filled with joy just then, the icy cold loneliness slowly retreating from you as you allowed the rays of sunshine to melt the iciness away from the depths of your heart. you were becoming enamored with the man who seemed to carry sunshine within his very veins, and you were certain that had it not been for him, then your life would have taken a dire turn.

"i- vash, thank you so much, for helping me. for saving me when i needed it the most."

his eyes widen in response to your words, detecting how your voice had taken on such a soft yet reverent quality. and the way you were looking at him-

well...

it made him feel like he were the most important person to you, like you were somehow captivated by him.

such pure and raw emotions being exuded from your gaze was enough to make him smile once more in response. being mindful of your semi-exhausted state, he stands back to his full height while taking you with him. somehow knowing that you were alone in this world, vash asks if you would like to join him in his own travels-

and truly, you would be a fool not to accept his offer.

so here you were, still close to vash as he kept you by his side. the more time you spent with him, the more you felt as though you were losing your heart to him. you knew that vash held your heart within his hands, but you weren't brave enough to come clean to him when it came to your true feelings for the young man.

yet, you couldn't deny that vash truly cared for you, at least, in a way that a good friend should care for their friends. but your heart sang for him, and you found it hard to keep your emotions in check when it came to him.

vash seemed to lead a lonely existence, building walls around his heart that you wished more than anything to break down. you wanted nothing more than to share his burdens; to listen to whatever aches he was going through while getting to the source of why he was traveling across such dead lands to begin with. the gratitude you felt for him when he saved you that day simply served as a starting point for your feelings for him, and you wanted nothing more than to remain by his side for the rest of your days.

your yearning must have made you act on an impulse when your hand reaches out to gently touch at his sleeping face again. your fingertips lightly caress at his cheekbones, but this time he actually feels your touch. vash was felt stirring just the slightest bit as he lets out a soft groan. his arms were still loosely wrapped around your form, providing you some warmth while in the midst of the cold, desert air as you held your breath, witnessing vash waking up.

you let out a soft gasp when vash fully opens his eyes, revealing his blue-green eyes to you. a shyness was felt coursing through your very veins as you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. a sleepy expression paints vash's expression, and his gentle beauty was so mesmerizing to you that you found it hard to speak.

you watch as the sleepy expression slowly morphs away from vash's features, being replaced with something unreadable. you couldn't tell what was floating within the depths of his mind, and a part of you wanted to speak and ask him if anything were bothering him. yet before you could speak those words, you felt vash lift his hand to brush against your strands of hair.

he appears nervous, his expression filled with an anxiety that was certainly out of character for him. letting out a soft whisper of your name, you listen as he heaves out a sigh before telling you,

"i'm sorry for this."

you weren't given the chance to ask him what he meant before he suddenly surges forward to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. your mind was spinning as you felt fireworks going off, making your heart pounding in response as you felt the pure, unbidden happiness suddenly coursing through you. vash had his eyes clenched shut, and you had to swallow back a soft moan. you end up shutting your own eyes in response as you slowly kissed him back, allowing his hands to delve themselves within your locks of hair as he seemed to pull you even closer to him.

vash ends up pulling away from the kiss first, earning a tiny whine from you. he chuckles at the sound of your neediness for his affections, gazing at you with a fondness as he allows his fingertips to trace at your lips.

"i-i like you, m-maybe feel even something stronger than a mere like." vash lets out an adorable cough, clearing his throat as his shy smile returns, "and i...i take it that you feel the same way?"

you allow the light sounds of your laughter to fill the night air, inching closer as you rubbed the tip of your nose against his. "of course... but perhaps, i'm more inclined to admit that my feelings for you run so much deeper than a mere 'like,' vash."

with your own admission lingering in the air, vash shares a few more soft yet sweet kisses with you. he only stop when you close your eyes once more, letting out a yawn as you cuddled yourself even closer to him. feeling you pressed so intimately close against his chest makes vash smile as he engulfs you within his embrace.

whilst you slept, vash allows his eyes to trail towards the wide expanse of the sky, admiring the twinkling stars while thanking whatever entity was above him for allowing him to meet you; for allowing his path to cross with yours.

someday soon, he will tell you of his life and his goal of finding his brother, of how he had experienced such loneliness and pain-

but for now, vash will simply bask in your presence all while thanking fate for giving your heart to him.

a.n. - this goofball is so lovable, i really wanted to write something so fluffy and sweet for him 🥹 this is currently unedited, but i will fix any glaring errors once it is posted.

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[the-pen-pot]

The stench of its fur: musk and stale blood. Muscles bulging beneath its pelt as it moved, too quick for anything but a creature of magic. Obsidian claws, sharp and black, raking the ground beneath its feet as it watched him with all the intensity of a predator latching onto its prey. The serpent in the place of its tail, reared back and ready to strike.

Fangs sinking through his chainmail and into his sword-arm. A shout: Merlin's voice, rough over words Arthur did not know. His blood burning through his veins. 

Merlin's eyes, dazzling gold.

Cold raked its talons across him, making him shudder, touching everywhere except the hot, heavy throb of the wound on his arm. He shivered, torn right through as fever consumed him. Maybe this was yet another dream. A figment. Nothing more than the shattered glass of his own addled mind, slicing at him.

He tried to rouse himself, to open his eyes and find Merlin. 

Merlin, who had magic.

The thought skittered away from him, retreating to hide in the shadows. Arthur could not recall ever being so tired in all his life. He kept struggling to marshal his wits, only for them to slip through his fingers. Questions bobbed through his aching head, lost and untethered.

Was he back in Camelot? What day was it? Time was like air, impossible to catch, and whenever he dropped the thread of his thoughts, he could not be sure whether he fell back into slumber or merely lost a moment. His mind was wreathed in fog. Memories loomed from it, grim silhouettes that took on definition only to fade once more.

Merlin. 

Magic.

A cool cloth blotted across his brow, dripping fresh water against his mouth. He licked at it, parched, but his request for a drink was little more than a cracked moan of sound: pained and wretched. He would be embarrassed by his own weakness if he were not too broken to care. Yet it did not seem to matter that he could not find the words. The mattress dipped. An arm slipped beneath his shoulders, supporting his weight as a cup pressed against his lips.

He drank greedily, rivulets running over his chin to collect in the hollow of his throat. Someone bade him to sip, not gulp, and he tried, but his body cried out for the water: feral in its thirst.

His stomach ached and clenched. There was one dizzy, awful moment where he thought he might just expel it all again, but he mastered the urge as he was eased back to the pillows' embrace, lain upon them as if he were something fragile, liable to shatter. His lashes fluttered, his eyelids too heavy to lift, leaving him in the strange, disjointed shadows between dreams and the waking world.

Those hadn't been Gaius' arms cradling him. It had not been the old man's strength raising him up. He did not need his burning, aching eyes to confirm it, not when he could smell the herbs-and-clean-sparks fragrance he knew always clung to Merlin's skin and hair. The perfume nestled in his clothes, too, mixed with laundry soap. It was familiar: comforting in a world that seemed to know only pain, and Arthur's fingers twitched against the blankets, grasping for something that seemed forever out of his reach.

' – delirious, Sire.' Gaius' old voice seemed to come from very far away. He sounded as if he spoke from another world, eerie and lost within the veils. 'The fever must break soon.'

'And if it does not?' 

His father. Broken and bloody over the rack of his own guilt. Braced, as always, to rule and rule and rule despite his tragedies. Did he even see a son in the poisoned shell upon the bed, or was it merely an heir failing to live up to his duty? A dynasty in pieces?

'I fear the prince's strength will be spent.'

There was a noise then, a tiny crack of sound that Arthur suspected was a figment of his fevered imagination. Yet when his father spoke again, the strain in his voice was evident.

'Heal him, Gaius. There must be something you can do?'

'I will try everything in my power, Your Majesty.'

'Use any means necessary. Any means. No questions will be asked.'

If Arthur had the strength, he would have laughed at his father's hypocrisy. He knew what the King asked of Gaius. Once again it seemed that, when all else failed, Uther would turn to the magic he reviled. Now, it was not only the poison that burned in Arthur's blood. Rage blazed alongside it. It surged, rising ever higher in the name of those he had seen led to the executioner for no greater crime than trying to save a loved one from the vagaries of fate.

By his own laws, what Uther asked of Gaius was punishable by death, and still, he did not hesitate.

There was a whisper of cloth and the click of a door in its threshold. In its wake, the silence was punctuated only by the crackle of the fire in the grate. Someone shifted nearby, the mattress bobbing like a small boat in a calm harbour.

'Arthur saw you.' Gaius' voice was closer now. 'You're certain?'

'Yes.' That reply contained multitudes in a single word. Merlin should not sound like that – hurting, resigned: a man already condemned. 'He looked right at me. I saw him see.'

'He might not remember.'

'He will.' A hand rested on his brow: long fingers cool against his arid skin. They teased his sweaty hair back from his brow and brushed over the vault of his temples as if he were something fragile to be treasured. 'He'll know I've lied to him all this time about what I am. What I can do.'

Merlin's words hitched, wobbled, broke. A breath stuttered between his lips, crying out for comfort which Arthur was powerless to give. He could not so much as lift a finger, let alone stir himself back to awareness. It was like he was present but not, an unwilling eavesdropper to Merlin's grief.

'Yet you will heal him.' It wasn't really a question. Gaius said it as if he knew that any alternative would be unthinkable. How easy it would be, Arthur thought, for Merlin to do nothing. He could let him slip from life, vanquished by his fever, and take his secret with him. It was no small thing, after all: a death sentence. Perhaps his father had said no questions would be asked, but it did not matter. If Arthur awoke with accusations of sorcery on his lips, Merlin would not be spared.

He wanted to speak, to promise that it would not come to that, but he could not form the words. Only tiny, tight breaths escaped him, broken upon the blade of his pain. He was a prisoner in his own body: a captive in poison's chains.

'Yes.'

'I see.' Gaius sighed, a world-weary sound, full of melancholy. 'I will pack your bag, just in case.'

It took Arthur's tired mind far too long to unravel that statement. It wobbled in and out of the haze of his mind, baffling – until it dawned, cool, crisp and cruel: a winter's daybreak.

Gaius was packing in case Merlin needed to flee. Not from Uther, who would assume the spell was Gaius' work and turn a blind eye, but from Arthur. Until that moment, he had never realised the truth. He had thought Merlin was a permanent fixture in his life. A certainty. Now, there, in fever's haze, he saw that Merlin was instead always on the cusp of leaving. The secret he held was not simply words unsaid. It was a breach waiting to yawn between them. A precipice. A desolation.

Merlin had lived for years in Camelot with one foot always out of the door.

And Arthur ached for him.

'Clǣnsiġe besmitenblod.'

The magic came upon him, as soft as moonlight. It did not blaze and burn, but seeped across his skin, sinking to flow through his veins and nestle in his bones. It captured the sharpest edges of his pain, peeling them back until he was free of their clutches. His fever roiled, then simmered, ebbing in the tiniest of increments as Arthur lay before it: a victim of its ferocity.

Yet, at last, power's cool balm suffused him. The haze lifted and the shadows retreated, and Arthur's mind, exhausted and battered by a battle he could never have won alone, finally cleared.

He opened his eyes, gritty and disgusting, to blink at the canopy of his bed: a splash of crimson that may as well as be as big as the sky. The blankets weighed him down, pinning him to the mattress, and his body panged with the bitter recriminations of flesh that had fought too hard for its own survival.

Merlin still whispered those same, soft words in a language Arthur didn't know, his voice broken with exhaustion and his eyes shining gold between the seam of his lashes.

Arthur twitched, and Merlin blinked himself awake from his reverie. The invisible net of magic that had woven itself through the chamber spun away to nothing, its gossamer fading from Arthur's senses. For a moment, they stared at each other, and Arthur saw the split-second when Merlin's courage – and he would never, ever again call him a coward – abandoned him.

'Don't.' Arthur gritted his teeth against the ache in his arm as he grabbed Merlin's wrist, stopping him before he could turn-tail and flee. Merlin could break away with ease if he tried, but instead, he hesitated, his body turned towards the door but his gaze, familiar blue now, taking in Arthur where he lay. 'Don't go. Please.'

He could feel how Merlin shook beneath the grasp of his fingers: a subtle tremor born of true terror. And how could he blame him? One word from Arthur, and the guards would come running. Merlin's life would be forfeit.

He had magic, and he had used it to save Arthur's life.

And this was not the first time.

'Merlin, please.'

Maybe it was that last word that did it. After all, Arthur rarely bothered with his manners outside of court. He was a prince, and he was to be obeyed. His father would be appalled to hear him almost begging a servant, and yet the words fled Arthur anyway, desperate and hollow. A strange dread had awoken in his chest, one that told him that if Merlin ran now, then he would never see him again – he would never get the chance to explain, or to listen, or to thank him.

'You should rest,' Merlin rasped, his grief like a bruise upon his voice. Any other man of Arthur's acquaintance would try to hide their feelings, but Merlin had never been one to bother with that. Not once in all the time Arthur had known him. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and it meant every emotion was there for Arthur to witness: guilt and terror, remorse and heartbreak. Yet beneath that, there was relief, as if some huge burden had been shed.

Cautious, Arthur increased the pressure of his grip, no longer merely hanging on to Merlin's arm, but tugging him towards the bed. He did not have the strength to sit up and face this. The aches careening through him warned him to not even make the attempt. Yet nor could he do it at this distance, held at remove. He needed to see Merlin, cast not just in the stark shadows and highlights of the fire, but right at his side.

'Come here?'

'I don't think –'

'I won't hurt you. I would – I would never hurt you.' Arthur swallowed hard, putting as much of his certainty into his gaze as possible. 'Magic or not.'

There. Confirmation, not accusation – but important all the same. In many ways it would be so much easier to pretend it never happened - to feign ignorance and let things carry on the same, but he couldn't do that. He did not want to do that. There, on the fading cusp of fever and delirium, all Arthur cared about was the man at his side. He wanted to know him, all of him, everything he put on display and all that he kept hidden.

That would never be possible if they couldn't face the truth.

He saw the moment of Merlin's collapse, saw it in the sway of his body and the tears threatening to spill over his lashes. It was no swoon. Rather, it was a body sacrificing all its strength beneath the flood of its own emotion. Merlin sagged to sit on the bed as if he couldn't stand a moment longer, his shoulders rounded and his head bent, one hand pressed to his mouth to stifle to the sob that threatened to tear itself free.

'I'm sorry.' It sounded as if it was punched from him, little more than a breath given shape in a scatter of syllables. 'I wanted to tell you, but –'

But his father was the bloody tyrant of Camelot, and Arthur had been taught his whole life to hate magic.

Arthur shook his head, stifling a grunt of pain as he plucked at Merlin's sleeve, tugging at him, nudging and pulling and shoving with all the pathetic tatters of his own strength until Merlin seemed to get the message.

He hesitated for a moment, indecision flickering over his tear-stained face before he sagged down to lie in the empty space at Arthur's left side. He did so on top of the covers, chaste and acceptable, though something in Arthur despised even that much distance. He had a feral urge to wrap Merlin in his arms and make sure he didn't slip away in the night. He still looked wary – a horse about to bolt – and Arthur scrambled through his sluggish mind for the right words to rein him in.

'You saved me.' He wet his lips, rolling on his side so they were facing each other, the space between them intimate and warm. They were like a pair of brackets, their knees knocking, and Merlin's hands clasped in the blankets. 'More than once, I suspect.'

He reached out, cautious, at first insinuating only his smallest finger into the lax curl of Merlin's grasp. Yet it was the leading force in a battalion. The others soon followed, until he was holding Merlin's hand in earnest, his fingertips exploring familiar calluses and the spaces between, the sharp angle of his knuckles and the occasional scar that painted his skin. It was easy to see, in retrospect, how wilfully blind he had been. Now, through the lens of magic, he could see the truth of so much of his good fortune.

'You saved me even though it would have been far safer to let me die.'

Merlin shook his head, and Arthur smothered a smile to see the gaze behind those spiky, wet lashes spark with outrage. Yet he didn't give Merlin a chance to speak. Instead, he squeezed his hand, ushering him back to silence with a simple pair of words.

'Thank you.'

A shivering breath whispered past Merlin's lips as he released it, closing his eyes for a moment and shaking his head against the pillow. 'You aren't... angry?'

Arthur pulled a face at that. He was. He suspected he would be, anyway, once his strength had returned and the full measure of all this had sunk in, though possibly not for the reasons Merlin assumed.

It stung that he had lied, but Arthur could not honestly say he would have done any differently in his place. Not considering how much was at stake. Instead, his anger frothed and simmered around the notion of Merlin taking one look at Camelot – at all its rules and risks – and deciding to use magic anyway. As if he thought anyone, anywhere, was worth the cost of his own life!

'A bit,' Arthur acknowledged at last, knowing that Merlin would catch him out in a lie. The truth was written all over his face, after all. He was too weak and spent for royal masks now. 'Later, maybe a lot, but Merlin, not enough to – to condemn you. Not enough to make you leave.' His voice cracked on that last word, thinning to almost nothing at the thought of him gone from Arthur's life, never to return.

In his youth, he had imagined capturing a sorcerer in Camelot. He had envisioned the adoration of his people and his father's pride as the fiend was dealt with. They were childish fantasies, of course, and he had grown out of them some time ago. Now, all he could think of was the need to protect Merlin, to keep his secret and hold it close, away from the prying eyes of his father and anyone else who would see him burn.

'Stay?' The word slipped out of him, small and hopeless, painfully young even to his own ears. Part of him felt he had no right to ask it of him. How could he, when every day Merlin lingered here, he risked his life merely by existing. Yet nor could he hold it back.

'I'm right here, Arthur.'

'I don't just mean now. I mean – the bag Gaius is packing for you.' He let his eyes roved over Merlin's face, the slant of his brow and the sharpness of his cheekbones, the pink of those full lips and the scatter of stubble across Merlin's jaw that suggested the depths of his vigil.

'You heard that?'

'I heard everything, including what my father said. He is – his hypocrisy is...' Arthur trailed off, unable to speak of it. It sickened him right down to his bones, and he forced himself to push it aside. This was not about his father, not really. This was about him and Merlin. He could not expect Merlin to peel aside all the shadows of his secrecy with nothing offered in return, and he tightened his grip anew, drawing his hand towards him as he made his promise.

'I will never let him hurt you, and I will never be like him.'

Perhaps it was the lingering veils of fever's ebb that dismissed his caution. Maybe it was simply that he was too tired to hold back his natural inclination, but the brush of his lips over Merlin's knuckles, soft and sure, sealed his vow. 

He heard the catch in Merlin's breath and saw the hope – desperate and wild – that flared in his gaze. Yet there was belief there, too. Whatever else Merlin thought of him, whatever fears he harboured, he did not doubt him, and Arthur's heart swooped and thrilled in his chest to see it.

That was a sensation that intensified a thousand-fold when Merlin shifted closer, bowing his head over their joined hands and brushing his lips against Arthur's fingers. 'It's for you, Arthur. My magic, I mean, and I will never allow it to be used against you or your kingdom. I swear it.'

Arthur's throat clicked as he swallowed, feeling the noose of uncertainty loosen around his neck. He had not wanted to give credence to that subtle fear, and yet he could not deny it had pressed its mantle across his back. Yet in Merlin's eyes he saw the truth of what he said: loyalty and devotion on unapologetic display, irrefutable.

There would be time, later, to plumb the full depths of Merlin's secret. There would be the opportunity to learn all that he had done in Arthur's name, the good and the bad, but in that hallowed moment, they built the foundation of something new between them. It was writ in soft, shared breaths and the press of Merlin's brow against his own. It wove around them in the warm air and eased aside the aches in Arthur's muscles.

It began then, not with a kiss – which would come a little over a week later, hot and desperate and all Arthur had ever craved – but with two oaths shared, as solemn and certain as a hand-fasting.

And those were promises they would keep, day-by day and year-on-year, as Merlin led Arthur into the brightness of that promised golden age.

[hoffstrap-yuri]

Okay okay uhh writing prompts!! as a 3dshipping fan (but u know no pressure)

Holding hands - 42

Hugs - 16

Kisses - 56

Holding hands 42- dragging the other with them, holding their hand

Hugs 16- 'not wanting to let go' hugs

Kisses 56- angry kisses Of course, hope you enjoy!!

--- Hoffman hissed as the puke green light filled the space of the bathroom. He knew who would be perched in the doorway, waiting for his repentance. He didn’t say anything as the silhouette moved to turn the painful fluorescent lights on, his eyes had barely adjusted to the hall light. He snapped his eyelids shut before opening them again, watching as the other man paced across the room.

“My, you look famished.”

“Fuck you.” The man chained to the wall said. Or at least tried to say. It was supposed to come off confident but with the limited amount of water the doctor was giving him, Mark’s voice was hoarse. Just enough to keep him alive if he didn’t drink it all at once. Not enough to comfortably satisfy his thirst. Most of the time, Lawrence was careful enough to make sure not to get to close to Hoffman. He had learned the hard way that the man was still bitter, even though this was just a natural consequence of disobeying their master’s command. Mark lashed out like a wounded dog, and Lawrence had reigned him back in like the good disciple that he was.

---

The first time he had walked in after chaining Hoffman up the man feigned pity. Not that Lawrence bought it, but he got close enough to Hoffman that the former detective snatched the cane bitterly and sent the other apprentice down to the floor. His hand clasped onto Lawrence’s and dragged the man away from his mobility aid.

“This how that pathetic little guy felt as you held him in his arms?” Hoffman’s eyes were filled with anger, but Lawrence’s filled with rage. How dare Mark speak about Adam like he knew him. Without thinking, Lawrence’s hand jerked and connected with Hoffman’s head, shoving it into the white tiles stained by a decade’s worth of blood. The fresh blood from Mark’s head spilled beautifully into the grout as Lawrence used his disoriented state to his advantage, turning around and grabbing his cane from across the room. That was the end of that visit and Lawrence was much more careful now around the last one of John’s chosen.

---

“Fuck you.” Mark repeated. His voice shook as he said it. Lawrence seemed satisfied with himself, the giant wall of meat looked as though he might cry. What could be the reason this time, Lawrence wondered to himself. He put the water bowl in front of Mark, sliding it across the floor towards him. The water splashed onto the floor and Mark got onto his knees to lap up what he could from the bowl before more water could displace itself. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough, but until Lawrence grew a conscious or stopped playing Jigsaw pretend, Mark had to drink what was given and accept it. Lawrence turned away after Hoffman was finished, picking the bowl up after scooting it closer to himself. “Wait.”

“What?”

“Don’t go.” Mark pleaded. His ego had been chipped down to next to nothing so he couldn’t say he really felt shame in asking his captor to indulge in his request for company.

“Why not?”

“I…” His voice broke as he thought of a reason that would satisfy Lawrence. He came up with nothing and resentful tears started streaming down his face. “I need to feel someone.” Lawrence’s head titled to the side as he considered the words Mark laid before him. He had to laugh. He ran a careful fingertip over the parched lips of Hoffman before sliding his thumb over the center of Mark’s cupid’s bow.

“Like that?”

“More…”

“Like… this?” Lawrence paused for a second as his lips hovered over the other’s mouth. He applied on the slightest of pressure at first, but Hoffman seemingly melted at the contact. Hoffman poured what little strength he still had into turning the kisses from something soft and chaste to something more bitter, angry even. He would bit down on the inside of Lawrence’s lip if he didn’t know the other man would mistake it for a sign of aggression but he knew the other apprentice well. Hell he could know it was a sign of aggression and still punish Hoffman for slipping up. Sometimes it felt like he was trapped on his own ice cube trap dealing with Lawrence’s whims. “Who knew you would be such an emotional whore? That all it would take was a kiss from me to keep you under control?”

“Shut up.” Hoffman’s eyes started down at his feet. He knew he shouldn’t have kissed Lawrence and yet there they were. Hoffman’s arms weakly reached out for the soft love handles of Lawrence’s side before resting his hands there.

“I do not have a key, if that is what you are looking for.” Lawrence said completely deadpan. When Mark didn’t start feeling him up he actually wrapped an arm around the former prodigy’s back and held him against his chest. Mark’s face buried into the rather ugly dad cardigan that the doctor was wearing and took in his scent. So sterile. Clean. Like he keep himself separate from his identity as the Jigsaw killer. Something Mark never got. His lips came crash back onto Lawrence’s as he tried to swallow down the rage at John’s injustices. Lawrence returned the contact with not so much as a muscle out of place. Perfection. That’s the doctor’s aim. Lawrence pulled away from the kiss and looked down at his watch.

“I have a patient I need to meet with in thirty minutes.” He remarked callously, “I’ve had more than enough play time.” Mark’s grip on the fabric of Lawrence’s top got tighter. To feel his bulk after months of the cold in the bathroom felt like heaven.

“Don’t leave me…”

Lawrence pried his hands off of Hoffman and turned away. “Maybe if you’re this well behaved next time… well that’s if you can behave.” Lawrence walked away from Hoffman, leaving him in the dark alone once more.