#Land of the fallen fairies

[celestialsun123]

PEOPLE OF THE INTERNET

GUESS WHAT

@waitingforthesunrise @sm-writes-chaos @holdmyteaplease @full-on-sam @osbob-the-existent @awleeofficial @clearcloudlesssky @gummybugg @sleepy-vix @starryeyeddarlings @sea-dwelling-wizard @snowpoet123

NOTEBOOK

(DW, I got permission lol)

[sm-writes-chaos]

Too many notebooks?

Yet not enough??

Then here’s the perfect opportunity to add to your collection!

Bonus for fans of The Land Of the Fallen Fairies by @anulithots

Includes cute little doodles and thoughts in the margins

In just TWO DAYS

Even grumpy pants Norah approves, so what’re you waiting for? Support an amazing writer today!!

—

(Examples of pages:)

[kkglinka]

Finally twigged what rwby (+small animal companion) are walking through the field of red plants toward the red prince's castle reminded me of. It's the scene from wizard of oz where Dorothy et all are passing through the field of red flowers (poppies?) toward the wizard's city.

[ventique18]

It's rather interesting to look at the characters' preferred styles because you can infer a little bit of their personalities from them. I noticed that their first favorite, worth the most points, would usually be in-line with their outward personalities. But it's the second that interestingly says a part of them that others don't readily know.

For example, Silver's is basic and elegant. Basic is obvious, because he's a guy who yearns for nothing aside from protecting what he already has. The second one is a bit surprising. Elegant, which is probably the opposite of basic as its furnitures are usually gaudy and over-designed. But it makes sense-- because he's a prince of a fallen peoples.

Sebek and Lilia are also rather obvious. Lilia likes cute things! Sebek likes stylish things, which is usually the theme for more traditional furnitures and is a pattern common among the characters who are rather gentlemanly by nature. Malleus himself has stylish as his most favorite.

But Lilia and Sebek have something in common: unique. While yes they're both a bit weird just like the furniture within this category, it might actually convey something deeper than that. It's that both of them feel ostracized in their own homes. They at times feel like people who just don't belong, what with Lilia being the shamed general of a dead princess and Sebek being a half-blood mutt in a land full of purebloods.

It's their preferred style that isn't worth as much as the first one and maybe try to shake off, but even so is a part of them that stays with them wherever they go.

As for Malleus... What's more surprising is the theme that he doesn't like rather than the two that he likes. It's stated in-game that the Thorn Fairy is the height of elegance. Malleus himself frequently mentions elegance because it's something he strives to maintain every waking moment.

But he doesn't like Elegant things. Because unlike Vil who doesn't stray from his goal of becoming the most beautiful of them all, Malleus personally doesn't actually care to be elegant. It's just something expected of him; something he'd get scolded over for if he was caught lacking.

In a way, elegance is his prison.

So in its stead, he likes simplicity instead. Because in his heart, he just wants to fit in with others and not be constantly reminded that he's just different. He wants to make normal friends. He wants to live a normal life. He finds solace in Ramshackle dorm and its absolute simplicity in the most truest sense.

I'd write about the other boys but this'll become an entire research paper lmao. Try to look at your other faves' styles and come up with reasons why they like it! 👀

[humanpurposes]

Hi hiiii I couldn’t resist to not slide into your inbox and request a Christmas fic based on this prompt with a Aemond who isn’t used to his girl’s flirty behavior and gets flustered soo easily👀 you can totally ignore this if you don’t like it<3333

“Since I can’t ride in Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?” “Sorry, what?”

HI RUE ✨ Kinda put my own spin on this but I'm sure you'll love it <3

Can I Ride You Instead?

modern!Aemond x reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: smut, Aemond being a workaholic while his girl has needs

A/n: It's tiiiiime, happy 1st December!!

Main Masterlist // Christmas Masterlist

One more night in King’s Landing. You look out from the window at the lights in the city; street lamps; lively pubs; offices that have been abandoned until new year; and all the festive lights lining the highstreets. Conquest Street is your favourite place to be this time of year. You love the displays in the shop windows, the market in the square, the little wooden huts selling scarves and handmade jewellery, the smell of mulled wine, sugar and cinnamon, almost tangible in your nose and on your tongue. What you wouldn’t give to be there right now.

Aemond’s apartment is bleak by comparison. He doesn’t see the point in decorations, not when he’ll be spending Christmas at his family’s estate– at Dragonstone, Christmas is Alicent’s territory. Aemond’s place is clean, lit by lowlights with no bursts of colour or fairy lights and no tree.

He’s sitting at the dining table. The cold glare of his laptop shines over his face and reflects in the lenses of his glasses.

This boy never takes a break.

Term technically doesn’t end until tomorrow but everyone you know has already gone home to make the most of the break. Not Aemond. He wants to stay for as long as possible. He doesn’t talk about his family much, but you can put pieces together. You booked your own train ticket home according to his because you could think of nothing worse than leaving him alone on the run up to Christmas.

“Sit down, you’re making me anxious,” Aemond says, not looking up from the screen.

He’s been on the verge of irritation all day. You’re in the kitchen trying to make hot chocolate? Too much noise, he says. You’re at the dining table wrapping presents for your parents? Too distracting.

You take slow steps across the floor, behind his chair, draping yourself over his shoulders. He’s working on some project for an internship and simultaneously trying to get ahead on the research for his dissertation.

You love how he looks when he’s focused, the frown that means he’s utterly absorbed in what he’s doing. It’s not quite so endearing when he could be focusing on you instead.

Your arms wrap around him. He pushes his glasses up and puts a hand over yours, a featherlight touch. You want more.

“It’s getting late you say,” letting your lips ghost over his temple.

“It’s not even six.”

“You should take a break. We could order food?”

“Yeah, when I’m done with this, I just need to–”

“Aemond.”

Your arms fall away from him and he looks up at you with a slow breath. His expression is soft, his eyes slightly hooded, his lips fallen. He knows he's upset you.

“Aemond, it’s our last night together before Christmas.”

He shuts the lid of his laptop and leaves his glasses on the table. As much as you love how he looks with them on, there’s something about the unobstructed view of his face that never fails to take your breath away. Especially his eyes, one blue, one glass and made to imitate a sapphire, framed in a neat scar running down the left side of his face, an injustice of childhood.

He leans forward, snaking his hands to your waist, pulling you in towards him. 

It’s an unfair move really. Suddenly all you want to do is run your fingers through his silver hair, tilt his chin up, hold his face in your hands.

“You’re right, darling,” he says, stroking his thumbs in circles where they fall against your belly. You feel the pressure of it through the knit jumper you wear. “Let’s go out. Pub? Restaurant? What’s the market thing on Conquest Street, didn’t you mention that a while ago?”

“It’s a bit late to go out now, I’d have to get ready.”

“We’ll stay in and watch a Christmas movie then, yeah?”

“I didn’t think you’d be in the mood for something festive.”

He makes a quick face. Not that long ago you’d tried to get him to watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, and he was far from impressed. What horrors will you have in store for him next? “Whatever you want. I want whatever you want.”

You coax him to the sofa, big and plush and expensive. Aemond throws a blanket over the two of you and with a few taps of his phone arranges the food. Without much deliberation you put on Love Actually, meeting Aemond’s eye with a wide grin.

He hides his face in his hands but survives the ordeal.

By the time the credits are rolling it’s not particularly late, but you’re dreading the morning. You’ll have to wake up early, pack a bag, then you and Aemond will go to the train station together and go your separate ways until the new year. A whole two weeks apart.

You cozy up to him, breathe in the smell of his aftershave.

“What now, another film?” He asks, trying to find the remote.

Another idea pops into your head. “We could do something else?”

Aemond catches your eye, trying not to smile. “Now let me think, what else could we possibly do, hmm?” He’s awful at playing coy and has been since the moment you met him. He’s too observant, too intent on the details to play dumb.

“Well,” you say, tracing fingertips along the material of his sweats, over his thigh, “since it is the season, and I can’t ride Santa’s sleigh, can I ride you instead?”

His mouth bursts into a messy smile. “Sorry, what?”

You mean to huff out of annoyance but it comes out like a laugh. “I’m trying to be cute!”

Aemond takes your chin in his fingers and your body freezes. “You really don’t need to try,” he says, and leans in to capture your lips with his.

The way Aemond kisses makes you melt every time. He’s slow and commanding, like he’s savouring every precious moment. His hands slide underneath your jumper, dragging along your skin to hold your waist. The promise of what will come next puts you on edge.

Sparse gasps for breath hum in the back of your throat. Aemond smiles against your lips and holds you tighter, dragging you to straddle his lap. He pulls away from your mouth, to your frustration, and places a wide palm at your navel, the waist of your jeans. “Stand up, need to get these off.”

You move off him and go to undo the top button, but Aemond grabs your wrists and pulls you closer. You watch as he smiles slightly, his fingers moving to undo the button and the zip. He’s teasing you, drawing out the anticipation as much as he can. 

You sigh in relief once they’re off, dragging them down your legs, tossing them aside and coming back to straddle Aemond. 

His hands settle at your thighs. “Look at you, so eager, hmm?”

“You can’t blame me, you’ve been ignoring me all day,” you say, grinding your clothed core against the bulge in his sweats. You can be teasing too, with drawn out movements of your hips.

Aemond’s jaw tightens. You can see he’s trying to stay smug. “Well, we’re fixing that now.”

You press a kiss to his cheek while your fingertips curl at the top of his sweats, dragging them down enough to free his cock. He’s taught you what he likes and if you were feeling patient you might have come to your knees before him, but at the slightest touch of Aemond’s fingertips against the fabric over your clit, you know what you need.

He pulls your panties to the side, dragging you along his leaking cock with a hand at your lower back. He’s hard and you’re achingly wet. He holds you where he wants you, lining himself up to pull you down onto his length. The stretch is sharp and sweet, hollowing you out and filling you perfectly. 

Aemond’s head falls against the back of the sofa as you sink down.

“Does it feel good?” you tease him.

He’s breathless, helplessly watching the space where your bodies meet. “Fuck, perfect little pussy– feels so good,”

You cradle your arms around his head as you ride him, unhurried, hands restless as you feel his hair and the sides of his face, along his jaw.

Aemond hardly has to do anything, as soon as his fingertips are on your clit you feel your spine straighten and something inside you tighten. He circles over you lazily, watching your face with a soft, admiring kind of amusement. 

“Right there,” you whisper, “don’t fucking stop.”

“Are you gonna come for me, darling?”

Your thighs are burning at the effort but you don’t care. You’re so close, so close.

“Beg me,” Aemond murmurs.

A slew of slurred and breathless pleas fall from your lips. You can feel the slickness between your legs, how easily he glides over you, how deep his cock reaches inside of you, pushing against the right spot.

Aemond hums as he grabs your hips with his free hand, fucking you faster and harder until you’re falling apart, convulsing, melting. 

You fall against Aemond, holding each other closer as you wait for the deliriousness to fade away. Suddenly the air is unbearably cold. You cling to Aemond, to his warmth, content in his arms.

“Happy with your ride?” Aemond asks. You can hear him grinning.

You lift your head and rest it against his shoulder. The light of the TV catches in his features, his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, the details of grey in his right eye and the unnatural bright blue of his left.

“Can I go again?”

Aemond leans into you, pressing his nose against yours. “You can ride me as many times as you want, darling.”

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[mommyslittlebird]

Puppy’s Adoption Day

Whoops this is almost 2k words 😅

It had been a rough week for Wanda. There was no doubt about it. But, finally, her now ex boyfriend had moved all his stuff out of there and this whole nightmare was finally over.

It was her first weekend as a single woman, and she decided she was long overdue for a self care day. She started the morning at a coffee shop and got lunch with her best friend. She even took a little shopping trip to get herself a new outfit for the club that night.

But still, all her efforts to lift her own spirits fell flat. She sighed. She knew it would take time, but god she wanted to feel alive again.

She walked aimlessly along the sidewalk of the small shopping center. When she finally landed in front of the pet store, she figured she might as well look around. They had a wonderful program called the “Toy Fairy Program” in which a donor purchases a toy and donates some money, and they get to give it to a puppy visiting from a local shelter in return. Who wasn’t uplifted by playing with a puppy?

She carefully picked out a toy: a stuffed rabbit/teddy bear looking creature with a soft squeaker in the middle. It was simply adorable. When the volunteer asked which puppy she wanted to give the toy to, she looked over each of the options.

That’s when she saw you.

You were the littlest of the bunch: a small Jack Russell Terrier mix. You sat in the back of your cage, but she could see your fear was tinted with curiosity. When you lifted your head to look at her, one of your ears was bent weird, protruding awkwardly from the side of your head.

She pointed to you. “I’ll take this little darling.”

The volunteer carried you out of the cage, setting you down in a turf enclosure with Wanda. She knelt down on the ground while you pushed against the back fence.

“Hey, buddy,” she cooed gently. “You don’t have to be scared. I just wanna give you a toy. See? Look.” She set the toy down on the ground in front of her, pressing into it to activate the squeaker.

She watched your eyes widen at the noise. Finally, you curiously approached her, cautiously pressing your front paw into the toy. It squeaked again. You smiled, huffing like you were trying not to laugh. You pressed it again, chuckling this time.

“Is that funny, baby?” She asked, like she was talking to a small child. She reached out and squeaked the toy a few times in succession.

You laughed, taking it into your mouth to try and mimic the noise. The attempt only made you laugh harder. You set it down in front of Wanda, pouncing on it with both of your front paws.

She picked it up and squeaked it again and again until you were laughing so hard you’d fallen over onto your back, paws kicking aimlessly in the air. She had never seen anything quite like it: the pure innocent joy of a little puppy enjoying their first squeaky toy. You were belly laughing and your big eyes were squinted, but still sparkling up at her.

When the volunteer came back to usher you out of the pen and back into your cage, she wanted to protest. But she couldn’t. She didn’t need a puppy right now.

“Thank you for my toy, miss,” you said before picking it back up and reluctantly heading back to your cage. You curled up with your toy in your arms, resting your head on the plush material. She smiled softly before finally leaving the store.

Over the next few days, she couldn’t get her mind off of you. She had tried to go to the club, spend time with her friends, read, watch television, anything to get her out of her slump. But nothing had successfully made her feel as alive as the few minutes she spent with you. She thought of your laugh, your smile, the way your little ears flopped around. It would be so easy to go back to the store and bring you home. She wouldn’t even need to get all the new things for you. Her friend Natasha had hybrids. She would have a cage, a leash, food bowls, everything she needed. Sure Wanda was a busy woman. She had to go to work several hours a day. But leaving you alone in the house would be so much better than leaving you in that cage for 23+ hours a day.

No. She didn’t need a puppy. Besides, you were so cute, someone had probably already taken you home. You probably already had a happy life without her. Maybe she would just go check. The pet store was on her way home anyway.

But when she stepped into the pet store and saw there was another hybrid in the cage she saw you in, she couldn’t bring herself to feel relief.

“Excuse me, ma’am, can I help you out with anything today?”

She was torn from her thoughts by the same volunteer worker that she’d seen the day she met you. She stammered. “No. No sorry, I was just… looking for the little jack russell that was here a few days ago.”

“Oh, sorry,” the worker sighed regretfully. “The puppies from last week were sent back to the pound this morning. We’ve got all new ones this week. I can show you some of the new ones if you’d like. We just got this precious group of pomeranian hybrids if you wanted to-”

“The pound?!” Wanda gasped. She had thought you’d been adopted, and gone home with a nice family. She could hardly cope with that thought, much less you rotting away in a pound.

The worker was taken aback. “Uh… yeah. The one on Wabash Ave. We get all the puppies from there.”

Wanda searched up the address on her phone. She was in her car headed in your direction before she could even fully process her decision.

The worker at the pound brought her back to see you, curled up in a small cage close to the ground. You were crying, curled up against the back wall, facing away from her. She got down on her knees so she could see you better. “What’s wrong sweetheart?”

You didn’t turn to face her, too upset from how the rest of your day had gone. You didn’t want to talk to anyone ever again. “The mean man tooked my squeaky toy away…” you cried in a quiet voice.

Wanda frowned. “Oh no, baby. I’m so sorry. I bet it was a very beautiful toy.”

“It was!” you cried. “The most prettiest lady gaved it to me. She was so nice and she made me laughed and I loveded her!”

“Oh angel…” Wanda smiled. She reached her hand through the bar of the cage and rubbed your back. “I loved being with you too.”

You finally turned around, lifting your head to face her. She watched as the realization slowly came over your face. Your tail slowly started to wag, clanging against the metal of your cage. You crawled towards the front to the cage, wrapping your paws around the bars and looking up at her with hopeful eyes. “You camed back for me?”

“I did, baby,” she cooed, scratching you under the chin. “I should’ve never left in the first place.” She turned to the worker, who bent over and unlocked the door.

You hesitantly crawled out towards her. She pulled you into her lap and wiped away your tears. “Are you gonna take me home with you?”

She nodded. “Yeah, baby. I’m gonna take you home with me. We’re gonna go get you clothes, and a bed, and all the squeaky toys in the world.”

You rubbed yourself against her, wrapping yourself around her waist. “For real life?”

She giggled. “For real life.”

She picked you up, squaring away everything with the worker and filling out all the paperwork to take you home. You were a very excited, squirmy puppy when she tried to buckle you into the car. She made a mental note that you would need a harness from the pet store.

You seemed to always want her to be carrying you. She had a hard time even getting you into the cart at the pet store. Luckily, with lots of scratches, kisses, and reassurance, she was able to get you settled enough to get the shopping done.

All of her previous notions of using Natasha second hand stuff went out the window the second she saw your wide eyes try to take in all the accessories. You deserved all the new things that she picked out, special for you. You got to pick out your leash and harness, a nice new bed, your favorite collar, and, of course, plenty of toys, including a new version of the squeaky toy she’d bought when she first met you. How could she even dream of cutting corners when you curled up in the bed, still in the cart, wrapped around your stuffie. You were too precious.

Getting you home was less difficult, as you were now too tired to squirm. She rubbed your cheek as you fell asleep in your seat. “Sweet baby. All tuckered out after such an exciting day.”

She gathered you up in her arms to bring you inside. Tomorrow you would need to sniff every corner of the house to find your favorite, learn how bad the traction is between your paws and the hardwood, and rub yourself up against every fabric surface you could find. But for tonight, you were content to let Wanda carry you upstairs and lay you down in bed.

“This has been the bestest day of my whole entire life,” you yawned sleepily, nuzzling her chest. “And you're my favoritest person in the whole entire universe.”

Wanda smiled. There was something so innocent about your freely given love and devotion to a woman you’d just met. Then again, she couldn’t deny that she was also feeling an irrationally strong connection to you too. “That’s wild because you’re my favoritest puppy in the universe,” she giggled, tapping your nose.

You sneezed, making her giggle even harder. “I love you, miss… what do I call you again?”

She cradled you under her chin. “You can just call me your mama.”

“I love you, miss mama. Goodnight.”

She giggled. “Goodnight my little sugarplum. I love you too.”

Puppy collection

[yuurei20]

Thoughts

Fae lands were stolen by their own neighboring countries banding together under Henrick. Immediately afterward, “an endless series of wars broke out over resources.”

Almost as if they had intentionally united under a weak leader (Henrick) to overthrow a strong one (Maleanor), intending from the start to take the Fae lands for themselves once she was gone.

In a flashback a fairy says, “our enemies are closing in and the Dawn Knight has fallen,” but who exactly were those “enemies”?

The same countries that had been their allies against Maleanor?

It was a fascinating example of history repeating itself: neighboring countries coming together against a common “enemy,” first Maleanor and then Henrick, the very person who had led them against Maleanor in the first place.

And this is not the first time we have heard of this in Twst:

Eliza’s grandparents explain that their neighbors, too, betrayed them, attacking their kingdom without warning.

The fae were forced off Briarland and holed up in what became Briar Valley, a space that is only a small fraction of what used to be their home.

Eliza did not survive the war, as Maleanor did not, but what of the rest of the country?

Did they, too, retreat to somewhere in order to escape the carnage brought upon them by their neighbors? If so, where did they go?

Eliza's kingdom fell 500 years in the past.

Lilia's dream is 400 years ago.

General Lilia: “A century ago, it was one little sailboat that came ashore at Cape Sunrise…”

Did Eliza’s people fall to their invaders, flee to Briarland and apply the same lessons taught to them by the people who stole their country, becoming the invaders themselves?

(Assuming that Leah is of the royal bloodline, would this make Silver a distant relative of Eliza? 📝)

(Thank you so much to @prince-kallisto for the use of this wonderful graphic I love so much ♡)

[psformybss]

For Mama, With Love

series masterlist

warnings: soft domestic fluff, girl dad!drew, toddler chaos, breakfast disasters, heartfelt moments, homemade cards, sleepy cuddles, way too cute

The house was still in that soft, golden way only early mornings could bring. Sunlight crept gently through the curtains, the silence broken only by the quiet scuff of small feet on the hardwood and the swish of a dog’s tail brushing the rug.

From the hallway, a chair scraped faintly against the kitchen tile, followed by a voice barely trying to whisper.

“Mama’s sleepin’. Be quiet, Teddy.”

The golden retriever gave a low huff, trotting behind the pajama-clad toddler as she tugged a chair across the floor with far more determination than grace.

Drew was already in the kitchen, sleeves of his hoodie pushed up, hair tousled from sleep. He leaned against the counter, sipping coffee, and watching his daughter’s mission unfold.

“Hey, let Daddy help with that before you take out the whole kitchen,” he said, setting his mug aside and catching the chair just in time.

“I wanted to do it myself,” Ellie grumbled, cheeks puffing with effort as she climbed up. “I’m makin’ pancakes for Mama. Like the real kind.”

Drew smiled, steadying the chair with one hand. “Real kind, huh? Well, you’re in charge. But no touching the stove, remember? We’ll do it together.”

Ellie nodded with all the seriousness a four-year-old could muster. Her curls bounced as she reached for the whisk.

“Can I mix now?”

“Almost. First, we need flour.”

Before he could stop her, Ellie plunged her whole hand into the bag. A puff of white dust rose into the air, settling on her nose and cheeks. She froze and looked up, wide-eyed.

“You look like a snowman,” Drew said, trying not to laugh.

She giggled, then shook her floury fingers over the counter like fairy dust.

Cooking took longer than it should have, and the mess multiplied quickly. Ellie cracked an egg with such gusto that half the shell landed in the bowl. Drew fished it out, biting back a chuckle as she stirred with both hands, tongue sticking out in concentration. When he added vanilla, she wrinkled her nose and said it smelled like toast, which he took as a win.

Teddy sat nearby, ears perked, eyes scanning the floor for fallen strawberries. Ellie dropped them often—some made it to the plate, but more disappeared into her mouth.

They had made the card the night before. Drew folded the pink construction paper while Ellie scribbled crayon drawings of their family. Her people had wobbly legs and stick arms, but she gave herself a crown and her mama a heart beside her head. Drew wrote the words as she dictated, carefully sounding out each one.

“Happy Mama Day. Thank you for brushing my hair, and for cuddles, and for singing the sleepy song.” She paused, then added, “I love you more than pancakes.”

He kissed her forehead and told her it was perfect.

Now, the card rested beside a breakfast tray, next to a little glass jar holding a slightly wilted daffodil Ellie had picked from the backyard.

“Ready?” Drew asked.

Ellie nodded, wiping flour on her pajama top. “I’ll carry the card. You hold the pancakes.”

“Deal.”

They tiptoed into the bedroom, where soft light stretched across the bedspread. She was still asleep, one arm curled beneath the pillow, her face peaceful.

Ellie climbed up with effort, crawling carefully across the blankets.

“Mama,” she whispered, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Wake up. We made you pancakes.”

She stirred, blinking sleepily. Her eyes landed on Ellie’s excited face, and a sleepy smile spread across her lips.

“Hi, baby,” she said, voice raspy. “What’s all this?”

“Pancakes,” Ellie said proudly. “I stirred. And I made you a card.”

The card was slightly wrinkled from being clutched so tightly. She sat up slowly, adjusting a pillow behind her back, and unfolded it as if it were made of glass.

Drew placed the tray on her lap. “Happy Mother’s Day.”

She read the card, taking in the crooked hearts and uneven letters. Her hand came to her mouth, eyes shining.

“Oh... honey,” she whispered.

Ellie curled up in her lap, just like she used to. “You like it?”

“I love it,” she said, kissing the top of her head. “It’s the best card I’ve ever gotten.”

“I drawed Teddy too,” Ellie added. “He has a bow.”

“I see! It’s perfect.”

Drew sat beside them, resting his hand gently on Ellie’s foot.

“You helped her with all this?” she asked, looking at him through soft tears.

“She had a vision,” he said with a smile. “I just did what the boss told me.”

“I’m the boss,” Ellie said proudly, thumping her chest.

Teddy hopped up onto the bed and flopped at their feet with a heavy sigh, like he’d carried the whole morning on his back.

She picked up a pancake, still warm, and dipped it into a little pool of syrup. It was shaped vaguely like a heart. “Mmm. Who made this one?”

“I did the strawberries,” Ellie said, tugging gently on Teddy’s ear. “And I ate some too.”

“The best kind of helper,” she said, grinning.

They stayed there for a while in a quiet that didn’t need to be filled. Ellie leaned against her mama’s side, thumb in her mouth, body soft with sleep again. The air felt slow and kind, like the day itself was making room for them to be still.

Later, cartoons played in the background while Ellie brushed her mama’s hair with a pink plastic brush. She stood behind her with a serious face, working through a tangle like it was brain surgery.

“Don’t move,” she said. “I’m doin’ it gentle.”

“Okay,” she replied, smiling up at Drew as he watched from the bed.

“There,” Ellie announced. “Now you’re pretty.”

“I wasn’t before?”

“You were,” Ellie said matter-of-factly. “But now your hair’s nice too.”

They went outside for a while, just the backyard. Ellie picked more flowers and tried to tuck one behind her mama’s ear. Teddy rolled in the grass like a dog with no worries in the world.

They sat on the porch steps, Ellie in her mama’s lap, juice box in one hand and a sticky granola bar in the other.

“She’s growing up so fast,” she said softly, watching their daughter hum to herself.

Drew nodded. “Yeah. But I think this version of her is my favorite one so far.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Mine too.”

For a moment, it was all warmth and sunshine and the kind of love that didn’t need to be spoken to be known.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He kissed her hair and held her a little closer. “Always.”

[rose24207]

Heyyy, i’ve got an idea for a Lando x reader fic!

Basically Lando and the reader have been friends their whole life since their parents are good friends and they go on vacations together all that shit. And the reader has had a crush on Lando for some time now and what she doesn’t know is that Lando likes her too and one night they’re celebrating midsummers (or whatever) and he tells her he likes her and they kiss and talk all night and cuddle and stuff like that, but the next day Lando is ignoring the reader and pretends like nothing happened and goes on to ignore her for like a good year or two until one night they talk and he says he’s sorry for all that and they have their happy ending. Super angsty and sad but fluff at the end!

Don’t feel obligated to write this if you don’t want to, it’s just something i came up with and could never write myself (i can’t write to save my life) but i really like your fics and thought you could!

I‘ve missed this

Summary: Lando confesses his love on midsummer night but pushes you away for years before finally apologizing and winning you back.

Genre: angst, fluff

Lando x f!reader

TW: None!

A/N: DW girl I got your back!! again sorry that you had to wait! School is kicking my ass and I’m about to crash out because of my driver license (that shit is expensive af) English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist pt. 2

The golden glow of the midsummer sun bathed the lawn in a warm, ethereal light. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed overhead, and laughter filled the air as family and friends celebrated another year of togetherness.

You sat at the edge of the garden, the sound of the waves from the nearby lake mingling with the music. Your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on him—Lando Norris.

He stood by the fire pit, laughing with a group of friends, the amber glow highlighting his cheekbones and the soft curls that framed his face. You’d known him your entire life, thanks to your parents’ friendship. Vacations, holidays, birthdays—he’d always been there, your constant companion.

And somewhere along the way, you’d fallen for him.

It wasn’t just his boyish charm or his crooked smile that made your heart race. It was the way he made you laugh when you wanted to cry, the way he always seemed to know what you needed without you having to say it.

But he didn’t know how you felt. And you weren’t sure he ever would.

“Why are you sitting here alone?”

His voice startled you, and you turned to see him standing there, hands shoved in his pockets. He tilted his head, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

“Just… thinking,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Thinking, huh?” He dropped down onto the grass beside you, his knee brushing yours. “Care to share?”

You hesitated, glancing down at your hands. “It’s nothing important.”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, you can tell me anything.”

You looked up at him, your heart skipping a beat at the way his eyes sparkled in the fading light.

“Alright,” you said, forcing a smile. “I was just thinking about how much has changed since we were kids.”

His expression softened, and he nodded. “Yeah. Feels like yesterday we were building sandcastles and arguing over who got the last popsicle.”

You laughed, the memory warming your chest. “You always took it, by the way.”

“Only because you let me,” he teased, nudging you gently.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. The sounds of the celebration faded into the background as you both stared at the lake, its surface shimmering like molten gold.

“I’ve missed this,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet.

“Missed what?”

“Us.” He turned to you, his eyes searching yours. “It feels like we’ve both been so busy with life lately. I hate that we don’t get to spend as much time together anymore.”

Your chest tightened, his words hitting a tender spot in your heart. “Me too.”

He reached out, his hand brushing yours. The simple touch sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you had to fight to keep your composure.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure he could hear it. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands. “I’ve been trying to find the right moment to say this, but… I like you, Y/N. More than a friend should.”

The world seemed to stand still, his words hanging in the air.

“You… what?” you managed to say, your voice shaking.

He smiled nervously, his fingers tightening around yours. “I like you. I have for a while now. I just—”

You didn’t let him finish. Before you could overthink it, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.

For a moment, he froze, and you thought you’d made a terrible mistake. But then his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer as he kissed you back with a fervor that made your head spin.

When you finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Wow,” he murmured, a soft laugh escaping him.

You smiled, your cheeks burning. “Wow.”

That night, the two of you talked for hours, sharing secrets and dreams you’d never spoken aloud. When the celebration wound down, you ended up curled in his arms under the stars, your heart feeling fuller than it had in years.

The next morning, you woke up with a smile, memories of the night replaying in your mind. You couldn’t wait to see Lando, to talk about what this meant for you both.

But when you went to find him, he was distant.

At breakfast, he barely met your gaze. Throughout the day, he kept conversations short, avoiding any moment that might leave you alone together.

By the end of the week, he was gone, leaving you with a hollow ache in your chest.

The weeks turned into months, and the months stretched into years. Lando’s career in Formula 1 took off, and you watched from afar as he became a household name.

He texted occasionally, but it was never personal. Just polite pleasantries, as if you were mere acquaintances. The memory of that midsummer night haunted you, the unanswered questions gnawing at your heart.

Why had he pulled away?

It wasn’t until two years later, during another midsummer celebration, that you saw him again.

He was standing by the same fire pit, his posture tense as he stared into the flames. Your heart ached at the sight of him, the familiar longing resurfacing like a wave crashing over you.

Before you could stop yourself, you approached him.

“Lando.”

He turned, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you. “Y/N.”

The sound of your name on his lips sent a shiver down your spine.

“Can we talk?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

He hesitated but then nodded, leading you away from the crowd to a quieter spot by the lake.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The tension between you was palpable, years of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your throat tightened, and you looked away. “Why, Lando? Why did you pull away? After everything that happened… I thought—”

“I was scared,” he admitted, cutting you off. “That night… it meant everything to me. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how much I had to lose if I screwed things up between us. You’re my best friend, Y/N. I couldn’t risk losing you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, his words both a balm and a dagger to your heart. “So you thought ignoring me for two years was the better option?”

“I thought it would be easier for both of us if I put distance between us,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “But I was wrong. God, I was so wrong.”

You wiped at your eyes, the weight of his apology sinking in. “Lando… do you have any idea how much that hurt me? How much I missed you?”

He stepped closer, his hands trembling as he reached for yours. “I missed you too. Every single day. And I hated myself for what I did. But I was stupid and scared, and I didn’t know how to fix it.”

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. Despite everything, you still loved him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “I’m so, so sorry.”

You closed your eyes, your tears mingling with his. “You really hurt me, Lando.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “But I swear, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

For a moment, you hesitated. But then you thought of the boy who’d been your rock for so many years, the boy who’d held your hand when you were scared and made you laugh when you wanted to cry.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly as if afraid you might disappear. “I missed you too.”

That night, as you sat by the lake with his arms around you, the pain of the past began to fade.

For the first time in years, you felt whole again.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris

[osbob-the-existent]

Ooh, fae seem interesting! I can almost see some of the evolution of Kamari out of fae, maybe? But Maidoe as a character has a lot of fascinating potential, I think- whether fae remains in the story or continues floating around in your head. A sort of parallel journey to Anuli's, where fae is exploring the forest and putting faer plans in order as Anuli is trying to piece together a proper thread for faerself in the network

do yall ever have those ocs that are part of a wip in theory, but you have next to zero actual ideas for the wip in question, so the oc is just kinda floating around in your brain with no story attached, but you love them so much you can't bring yourself to actually scrap the wip?

[celestialsun123]

So this is what I do with my Lotff notebook

I dishonor Anuli 🥲

That drawing could've been so much better.... Oh well, it's been done!

@anulithots

[toruro]

— ✧ devil by the window

temptation touched my tongue / spread the wings of desire (a friday the 13th special)

description: all your fairy friends warned you not to get tangled up with the demons that lurk on the ground, but you swear on every star in the sky that minghao is different.

warnings: smut (18+), consent is clear but reader is somewhat unaware of what sex is

tags: enchanted forest au, demon hao, fairy reader, corruption kink, loss of virginity, innocence kink, pet names (fairy, pretty), condescension, brief implied exhibitionism

w/c: 5k+

request: hiii for hao could u write fairytailesque theme umm like vibes of love between fairy and devil cdrama! mean dom hao secretly a softie for u<33 i feel like u would rock it!!

a/n: i got something out for friday the 13th! sorry to anon for losing the og ask, hope u see this! for those who saw the first version of this, i am sorry. i popped this out by listening to freefall while being high as hell

Joshua was the first to warn you about those who live below. Those who lurk in the shadows, waiting, and waiting, and waiting to pounce on the first naive soul to cross their path.

You didn’t quite believe him at first. Your head was in the pristine clouds that float above; living your little fairy life among the heights of the forest, days spent buzzing around with your friends, glowing smiles and shining eyes, petal-cloth dress flowing over your soft skin as you flutter from tree to tree—your life was perfect.

Seokmin tells you about it next. He recites a story of one of his friends, Chan, who got a little too close to the ground. The young boy hardly escaped the luring hands of a demon who crept up on him, and to this day, Chan has a scar on his left ankle.

Maybe catching sight of the little mark on the other fairy’s skin the next time you saw Chan was a little bit of a reality check, but still, you don’t worry too much.

After all, how could you? Your life was perfect, so what need was there for all this tension? All this trouble, worrying about a world so, so far away …

⟢

You’re falling.

You’re falling unimaginably fast.

You’re not really sure how it happened—you were floating through the trees and something in your magic spasmed for a second and the next thing you know you’re flailing around, unable to get those sparks flying again.

And you try to yell for help, call for Seokmin because he’s the last one you’d seen, a cold rush overwhelming your body when you realize you’re too far down for him to hear you anyways. You close your eyes tight and brace for the impact as you feel the bases of the trees grow thicker as you near the ground and then—

Wait, what? Why didn’t you hit the ground and—oh, you’re floating again. Reflexes must’ve kicked in upon realizing the difference in air pressure.

It takes a few moments to get yourself back on balance using what little energy you’ve got left. You’re dangerously close to the ground—mere meters hovering above it, really, but right as you think you’ve managed to flutter up a bit higher, you lose control again, dropping straight down with no luck on your side to stop you.

You crash down into the ground, letting out a soft shriek as your body thuds. It shakes you for a moment but as you look around, you’re endlessly grateful to have fallen on a relatively soft patch of grass. Dusting yourself off as you try to sit up straight, the fact that you are now on the ground without your magic is dawning on you.

You aren’t sure how long you sit there, just gazing at the thick, dark trees around you. It’s rather peaceful, you wonder if you landed on the same grounds that Chan did when he got that scar. You doubt it.

You gaze up at the sight, soft breaths and gentle eyes, and you start to think that the ground is much nicer than anyone has ever told you but suddenly, there’s a rustling in the bushes behind you. In an instant you feel cold.

Dreadfully cold.

So cold, you don’t dare to turn around, figure cowering in on itself as you shut your eyes tight when the rustling intensifies, turning into thudding footsteps that approach you. And then, it stops, and you believe for a gracing second if the thing has left you alone, but you know better than that because after just five seconds of silence, you hear it breathing from above.

“Wh—who are?” you murk up the courage to whimper, wincing as you hold a hand up to face your face.

Through the fingers, you catch the silhouette of a man. He doesn’t look much different from all the other boys you’ve seen before, and you wonder if you should take your chances and let your hands drop. 

“Are you …” Your breath hitches in when you finally look at him—chiseled jawline and sharp, cold eyes that watch you carefully. You feel your palms sink into the ground as you try to scurry back, but suddenly, it feels as though your hands can’t move. “... a demon?”

The pretty man smiles, but some funny feeling in your stomach tells you he isn’t exactly happy. He smiles oddly, and then he chuckles. He chuckles oddly, and then he laughs.

“What do you think, fairy?” His voice is cool and crisp, cutting through you like a blade of ice. The chill is thrilling. You think back to the story Seokmin always tells you. The scar on Chan’s ankle. The words of caution Joshua is always careful to remind you of.

“Y-you don’t look l-like the other—” You stop yourself from speaking because the shake in your voice is too much. You never even knew you could produce such a sound so potent in … fear? Enthrallment? Heat? You aren’t sure.

“The other what?” Slowly, he inches forward, and still you can’t find it in you to move away. You’re starting to think that you simply don’t want to.

His long, black hair wisps over his forehead and a few strands sit above his nose, and you can’t help but admire his natural elegance. He’s standing right next to you now, and as you look up at him, something in the back of your head buzzes.

Your ears are flooded with a white noise and some part of your brain is telling you you should be scared. You should be terrified, and you should wail for Joshua or Seokmin or Mingyu to come help but a much more convincing part of your brain tells you to stay put. To look up at this demon with wide eyes and parted lips. To whisper, “Demons. The other demons.”

He crouches over you now, so close that you feel his warm breath on your forehead. “Have you ever seen a demon?” You shake your head no, too afraid of the sound your throat might make if you try to speak.

He grins, and this time you don’t question the sincerity. He holds out a hand, and you think to yourself that such beautiful fingers could never taint skin like Chan’s.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs into the hazy air.

You don’t hesitate to take his hand.

Your magic comes back by the end of that day, and you are able to flutter your way up with Minghao’s name and a bidding farewell on your tongue.

You don’t tell the other fairies about what you do at night now. You don’t tell the other fairies how after everyone’s settled into their little abodes that linger from the branches, you creep out of your own. You don’t tell the other fairies about the beautiful views you see as you wisp through the trees, catching cool leaves on your skin as you slowly start to flutter down.

You don’t tell the other fairies of the little, illuminated pond you dip your toes into, or how when you turn around as your feet plant into the soil, Xu Minghao is already slipping into your line of vision from behind a thick trunk.

Dark cloth hangs off his chiseled figure, loose ends flowing with the night zephyrs. He sits on a rock by the pond as you cross your legs over on the verdant green grass, light dress splaying thinly over your thighs, skin shimmering under the moonlight.

He talks to you, tells you about his life, his friends. Every night, you listen with your lips slightly parted as you watch him and his dark hair. He teaches you about the ground, about the soft soil you sit upon, he teaches you about the roots of trees, about the little animals that scurry by the trunks, he teaches you that there is so much that lies beneath the tree tops, that there is so much you still don’t know.

Seungcheol laughed at Minghao earlier when he crept away from where he and his friends usually spend the night. “Going off to see your little fairy?” (Minghao wonders if the weird feeling in his stomach erupts from embarrassment at Seungcheol’s tone, or from a growing warmth when he refers to you as his.)

His friends find it a little funny—a fairy and a demon conversing at the dead of night, but he doesn’t really find it amusing at all.

Enthralling, would be the right word actually, because you come down every midnight where he teaches you, and he teaches you, and he teaches you so much, and your eyes are so beautiful, your voice so kind, your smile so bright, and so you teach him what it means for his heart to race.

You two sit together tonight, your hands neatly folded over your lap as you sit on your knees; Minghao sits next to you, legs out in front of him as he leans back on his arms. Under the light of the half moon above, you’re both silent.

You don’t have anything to say, not tonight. The cool air that sits between says enough.

Some time through the moments you sit in silence, Minghao has a hand brushing over your knee. The touch is gentle and cool like the breeze that washes over your bodies. He leaves his fingers there for a few, graciously long minutes, watching you from the corner of his vision to see if you’ll turn away.

He thinks he might lose his damn mind when you don’t move an inch. And so he moves an inch up your thigh, another inch and then he’s under the pretty petals of your skirt, another inch and then he’s almost brushing against the soft fabric that’s nestled between your legs.

Minghao watches you carefully—the way you chew on your bottom lip and your hands squeeze each other a little tighter and then—fuck, you’re squirming already?

“W-what are we doing Minghao?” you ask him so sweetly he feels he might melt into the ground and take you down with him. You have the vaguest of ideas of where this is going to go, and the thought makes your skin bloom with shivers.

“I …” His breath hitches in his throat when you look at him with eyes that look at him like he holds the universe. “I can show you.”

When you flutter your eyes shut, nodding as you whisper, “Show me,” into his mouth, Minghao wraps his arm around your torso and pulls you onto his lap. His kisses are slow but telling; pressing his lips into yours, tongue lapping at your mouth until you gasp and open yourself to him again. Legs locked around his sides as his hands grip onto your waist, your noses against each other in tandem in hopes to dig deeper into the kiss.

You’re shy against Minghao, lips working fervently—you can tell just from the way his fingers glide up and down your sides, the way his tongue melts into yours, the way he holds you—you feel so safe with him.

And then there he is, hands sliding beneath the skirt of your dress and bunching the shining fabric up to your waist; the cool air hits your skin as you gasp into Minghao’s mouth, hugging him closer instinctively. In doing so, you shift forward, core brushing dangerously close to the hardness between his dark pants, and you swear you hear Minghao mutter a curse you’ve never heard before. The sound makes your tummy do tumbles.

“You’ll let me take this off … hm?” he murmurs as he pulls away, fingers toying with the sheen hem of your skirt.

“Y-yeah,” you murmur, shuffling backwards so you slip off his lap. You lean back on your hands in the grass with a deep sigh, legs spreading out in front of you as Minghao climbs onto his knees. His fingers start at your ankle, and the way his hooded eyes watch you lustfully has your breath caught in your throat.

He slowly trails his fingers over your legs, starting from your calf and moving up until it’s brushing past your knees and suddenly his palms are pressing on your inner thighs and shoving your legs apart to reveal the pretty white panties that sit in the middle.

Your core buzzes with a heat, and you find your bottom lip clamped between your teeth as you try not to whine when Minghao’s finger grazes over the thin fabric. “M-mingh—hao,” you breath out, when he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck and sucks hard against the skin.

Your skin flushes with heat and a sharp sting when his teeth graze over you, but the small moan that leaves your lips sings a melody of pleasure as he swipes his tongue over the bruising mark. Your mouth falls wide open, neck falling back, and Minghao slots one hand between your legs, pressing the pads of two fingers against that one bundle of nerves that has you squirming into the ground.

“O-oh,” you mutter as your hips start to erratically swivel against his in hopes for more friction.

“Patience fairy,” Minghao sings in that sickly sweet tone of his. You wonder if he dropped from the treetops himself from the way he coos so kindly.

“It feels—oh … Oh, Minghao—”

“Tell me pretty … tell me what you’re thinking,” he whispers in a dangerously low tone, breath fanning over your neck in a way that sends shivers down your spine. Minghao traces methodical circles around your clit, and you can feel a warm wetness grow beneath your panties, causing the fabric to stick against your slick core.

You want to thrash in his arms and squirm into his hold—you want to let tears well up in your eyes and cry because everything’s feeling so good and you can’t think … can’t manage a single damn word.

“Feels—feels good,” you manage out in broken huffs of breath, legs spreading wider than you thought they could. Minghao chuckles as he lifts his head back to watch the way you tremble in front of him, and if you weren’t so dizzy on pleasure, you’d be burning from embarrassment.

“Yeah? Can make you feel even better if you …” He shrugs casually and gestures towards your dress and panties. “If you move some stuff out of the way.”

You don’t hesitate to yank at the straps of your dress,  shoving them down haphazardly with trembling fingers. You’re on fire, if anything, and Minghao grins widely as he helps you desperately shimmy out of your clothes.

You start with the dress, flowy fabric slipping off your shoulders and falling down your stomach, finally pooling at your hips where Minghao takes control and pulls it off your legs. You’re left clad in only your panties which are now sheen with arousal, cool air pricking at your bare skin under the moonlight.

“Oh fairy,” Minghao nearily moans when you finally lay back down on the grass, tits bare and spilling all over your chest as your naked legs make room for him to sit between them. “So pretty … so naughty …”

“‘m not naughty,” you try to mumble, but the hoarse desperation in your voice gives you away. “J-just, wanna feel go—oh—good,” you finish with a heavy sigh when Minghao’s fingers are at your core again but this time, sliding your panties to the side to reveal your folds.

“Feeling good, huh pretty?” Minghao murmurs, not giving you a moment’s rest as he plunges his fingers right into the dripping mess. You cry out, back arching off the soft grass as you feel the length of his long, thick fingers slide between your pulsing folds.

“Oh, f-fu—” Your eyebrows furrow when you feel one finger circle around your glistening hole, causing your whole body to twitch with an ache you didn’t even know was possible to feel.

“Say it fairy, say it,” Minghao groans, hearing the dying words on your lips.

“It’s dirty,” you whimper, one hand shooting down to circle around his wrist as you try to guide his finger into your throbbing hole, but Minghao holds his stature firm.

“Say it, or I won’t make you feel good,” he threatens, and your eyes widen as a complaint bubbles at your throat. The way Minghao gives you that warning, predatory look shuts you right up.

“Oh—oh fuck,” you finally mewl. The way your plush lips let the word fall so kindly from your lips has Minghao’s head spinning, and he can’t even find it in him to control himself when he finally sinks his fingers into your hot cunt. “Minghao—”

“So scandalous, huh pretty?” Minghao asks you with condescension dripping from his tone as your eyes roll to the back of your head when he rubs his fingers against your gummy walls. “The perfect fairy … messing around with some fuckin’ mean-faced, bad, bad demon.”

“‘s’not like that,” you try to gasp out, core throbbing when he somehow sinks his fingers in deeper. Your legs writhe around Minghao, but his firm hand plants itself on your right thigh, pressing you down and into compliance.

He hums lowly, the sound rumbling deep in his throat as he watches you struggle to keep your composure; Minghao can see it already—the way your forearms tremble under your weight as you lose yourself to him entirely. “You sure fairy? ‘cause from what I’m seeing … it’s exactly like that.”

There’s a protest right at the tip of your tongue but then he grazes against this one spot inside your hot, tight cunt that has you crying out, head thrown back, eyes rolling all over the place until you’re panting: “M-Minghao it feels—oh, don’t stop!”

There’s a dark sort of grin that tugs at his plush lips as those words leave your mouth. With one eyebrow raised, he starts to fuck his fingers into you faster, thumb toying roughly with your clit as you mindlessly buck your hips into his hand. “Aw, my pretty’s gonna cum? You gonna cum?”

There isn’t a single thought in your mind, and even if there was, you wouldn’t be able to comprehend what Minghao was saying, yet still there’s that funny, burning feeling building in your stomach as all you know is that you don’t want to let it—you can’t let it stop. “Y-yeah,” you whimper as your walls tighten around his fingers. “Yeah … H-hao—I wanna cum.”

Minghao smirks at the slurred words, placing a kiss on your shoulder blade when he feels you spasm under him. “Cum for me, fairy,” he murmurs when you cry out his name, hands flying up to grip his shoulders as waves of pleasure crash down on you.

Broken words die at your lips as you erupt into high pitched moans , orgasm taking over you; Minghao sucks and nips at your neck until finally tracing his lips up to yours, engulfing you in a deep kiss as you ride out the high.

“There we go fairy, pretty fairy … looks so cute when she cums …” Minghao says once he finally pulls away, gazing down at your blown out eyes as you struggle to sit up right. Steadily, he lifts his hand from between your legs, tracing the warm stickiness across the insides of your thighs before holding it up in front of your face.

“Th-that’s—” You inhale deeply before continuing, still staring at the glistening arousal that coats his fingers. “—that’s embarrassing, Minghao,” you rush out, reaching out to swat his hand away, but he dodges and instead plunges the fingers in his own mouth.

His eyes don’t break away from yours, staring down at you in a way that has your sensitive core buzzing all over again with that sweet excitement. “You taste so good, pretty,” Minghao says lustfully, finally pulling his fingers out with a loud popping sound. He watches you carefully for a few moments—the way your pupils are dilated, your bare chest heaving gently, skin wearing a glossy layer of sweat, face flush with swollen lips …

Minghao wants to ruin you.

“You’ll let me do more, pretty?” he asks, and the way he peers down at you with dark, alluring eyes has your head nodding before you can even think to imagine what Minghao means by more. “Good fairy,” he purrs, crawling onto his knees back between your legs, nudging your thighs apart.

“What—what are we doing?” you ask him innocently, eyes widening when he reaches for the dark, ragged shirt that hugs his torso and pulls it off. Your first instinct is to reach out and touch because fuck, he’s beautiful, and you’ve always been one to admire the beautiful.

His body is firm with muscle, heavy round shoulders shining under the moonlight as you back into the ground. Minghao is on top of you now, hands on either side of your head as he hovers over you. “You’ll feel good,” he tells you, watching how you run your hands all over his sides as if you were a child being shown candy for the first time.

“Again?” you ask innocently, eyelashes batting up to look him in the eye as your hands instinctively find the waistband of his pants. Minghao lets one corner of his lips lift up in a half smile, nodding his head as if to tell you to go on.

���Yeah, again,” Minghao reaffirms, and you’d be lying if you didn’t squeeze your thighs just a little closer together at the thought. “We’ll feel good together,” he says, and oh this will mark the loss of your sanity, because something in your blood buzzes at the thought of Minghao feeling good right alongside you and you spiral.

Suddenly desperate, you’re yanking down his pants—you don’t even know what’s coming your way (have no clue really), but you also don’t care because you’re just so needy and you know (you just know) Minghao will give it all.

“There we go,” he coos, helping you out with one hand to shove down the dark pants and black underwear that sits beneath. His length springs out in an instant, firm as it hits against your inner thigh with a loud slapping sound that rings in your ears.

Eyes glossy as you mindlessly gaze down at him, your mouth watering at the mere sight of the flush red tip, milky white oozing out from the top and glittering under the minimal light. “You like the sight, fairy?” he asks, reaching to pinch your cheek lightly. Your nose scrunches up for a moment, but you soon lean into his touch when your eyes trail back down to his thick length.

“Y-yeah,” you admit bashfully, letting him shuffle closer between your legs until his length sits on your stomach, balls pressed against your puffy folds. The light contact has your head going dizzy already, and takes every ounce of self restraint to not moan at the feeling.

“G’na be right here here,” Minghao mutters, running his wet fingers over the base of his length, holding it up just to tap it back down on the base of your stomach. “Cock’s gonna fuck you all the way here,” and the thought of being so deep seems to be just as numbing to Minghao as it is to you because you catch the way he gulps down hard.

“Please,” you choke out when he shifts against you, his cock brushing against your throbbing clit a bit harder. “Please—fuck, I need it now, Hao—please.”

“Poor fairy,” Minghao groans, pulling his hips back so his cock no longer rests against your stomach but now slides between your sticky folds. “Poor, poor baby … begging a filthy demon for his cock.”

The way your cunt tightens around nothing at his words has you questioning everything anyone has ever told you, but the thoughts are wiped from your mind when his fat tip nudges against your now aching hole.

“Oh fuck, it’s s’big Minghao,” you murmur when he presses himself into you. “O-oh, I don’t—I don’ think s’gonna fit,” you gasp out when he slips in further, eyes stinging with tears of both pain and pleasure.

“You want to stop?” he asks, stilling his movements.

“No!” you exclaim, a little too quickly maybe, because your excitement has Minghao’s eyes darkening in a way that tells you you’re really in for it now. “I-I—no … I don’t want you to stop.”

“Hm,” Minghao hums while nodding. “Then there’s nothing to worry about,” he says casually in that low, gravely voice that has your breath getting stuck in your throat. “I’ll make it fit.”

Your legs tremble when he sinks his length into you even deeper, punching moans right out of your lungs and squirming under his arms until you feel his pelvis brush against your clit. You’re a babbling mess right now, Minghao having his chest pressed against yours as you whisper into his mouth about how it “feels so good,” how you “feel s’full,” how you’re “in love … so in love.”

“See fairy,” he murmurs, dragging his length out at a dangerously slow pace before shoving back into you at once so fast his balls slap against your skin with a harsh sting. “Made it fit, didn’t I?”

You wanna cry out and say yeah, yeah he fucking did, but your tongue feels like lead when you try to speak, only moans and squeaks of pleasure escaping your lips as his cock fucks into you faster. Minghao’s got one hand by your head, the other trailing all over your body—tracing the curves of your torso, cupping the flesh of your tits, playing with the sensitive nub of your nipple—you might as well be insane from the way your blood rushes at the feeling.

It’s so much—so, so, so much and you aren’t even sure how your body is taking it all, but there Minghao is, whispering sweet, dirty nothings by the shell of your ear.

“You like it? You like it don’t you fairy?”

“Wonder what the other fairies would think of this …”

“Moan louder pretty … put on a show for the whole damn forest, will you?”

It’s a muddled mess in your head, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you dig your heels into the ground to help thrust your own hips upwards to meet the snap of Minghao’s hips. The sloshing puddle of wetness between your thighs lets out obscene sounds that bounce off the trees around you. You wonder if you should be ashamed by how the sound makes your cunt clench.

“Put your hands up pretty,” Minghao grunts through sharp, pointed thrusts. The words fly over you for a moment, not understanding a bit of what he’s saying until his movements still and your eyes widen.

“W-what—why’d you��”

“Put your hands up.”

“S-sorry,” you moan in blind compliance, quickly lifting your hands and crossing your wrists above your head. Minghao’s larger hand is over them in an instant, pressing them into the soft grass as he goes back to fucking into you.

It’s messy now; hips jamming into hips in a passionately frantic pattern that has your body throttling in all kinds of directions until that familiar feeling balls inside of you once more. “Hao, ‘m gonna cum—”

“Wait. We’re supposed to feel together, right? Isn’t that right fairy?”

“Fuck!” you whine, hands thrashing under the strong hold Minghao has on you, desperate to touch him. “Don’t think I can wait, Minghao—oh—”

“You can do it fairy, do it for me,” he demands, punctuating the last word with a deep thrust that has your stomach feeling like it’s being pushed just to make room for him. “Hold it,” he orders, and you would be damned if you disobeyed Minghao, and so you dig your fingers into his back and pull him down for a deep kiss, trying to hold off from your impending orgasm.

He kisses you sloppily, and there’s tongue and teeth and lips all over each other until you’re both pantining into each others’ mouths. “Are you gonna cum?” you ask frantically when he pulls away, eyebrows furrowed with pure desperation. “Please—please, oh my g—Minghao, I need a cum!” you cry out as your walls begin to flutter and your legs begin to shake.

“Cum fairy—cum all over me,” Minghao groans when you tighten around his cock as he rails into you relentlessly, feeling his own end come near. “Lemme cum inside, pretty, fuck—”

Your mind spins at the thought of Minghao filling your hot cunt up and you can’t even think straight before you start to beg, “Yes, yes, yes please.”

“Fuck, gonna let me fill this fairy pussy all the way up, huh? Oh—pretty, fuck I’ll cum if you keep squeezing me like tha—oh.”

Something warm fills your core, walls spasming in an overstimulated mess as Minghao continues to fuck the oozing liquid back into you with vigor. “Shit—Minghao,” you whimper once his hips finally start to slow and eventually still, softening cock flopping out of your drenched folds.

His eyes are sharp as they watch you look up at him hazily. “That felt nice,” you murmur, swaying a little as the aftermath of two orgasms leaves you a trembling mess. Minghao is quick to reach for you, steadying you in his arms and onto his lap, bringing you in for a kiss.

It’s soft and sloppy, and you can feel your senses getting muddled up all over again as you cuddle into him. Minghao chuckles softly, looking down at your figure and then the dark trees that are around.

“Fuck, fairy …” He grins when he catches a glint of a dark eyed demon in the shadows. “You really put on a damn show, huh?”

(Minghao wonders how many times he’ll get to fuck you before Jeonghan starts telling the other demons about your guys’ little secret. Not that that’ll stop him anyways—he’s got the prettiest fairy in the whole damn forest at the palm of his hands, and he’d be damned if he let you go.)

[skyrigel]

“Come back, be here ...”

Pairing: fancast! Benji blackwood x Bracken!reader

Benji masterlist

“ You and Benji meet when sky goes blaze and sun comes up, by the woods. But this time somthing hits different.

Nsfw 18 +, sexual content ahead ( blow job ) and hinted sex, enemies with benefits, smug! Benji, gn! Bracken! Reader, choking, physical shoving and rough reader, Benji being adorable, fluff, sprinkle of fairy dust ( angst ) some team black vs green dispute.

“ What are you doing here ? ”

The twigs crunched by your soles echoed in ten empty woods, the sun was coming up from the horizon where land met sky.

“ You're late.” Benji said, rubbing his eye like he had fallen asleep, bones cracking as he got up from the bottom the trunk where he was sitting, a leather pouch discarded.

“ This wasn't even meant to be.” You spat, eyeing him as he grinned at your anger, already making his way towards you.

“ Why ? ” He said nonchalantly, knowing how much you hated that tone, slurring the ends, “ Because your coward king—”

“ Shut your mouth.” You shoved him, his back hitting the nearest bark, wrapping your fingers around his throat, his eyes locked in yours.

“ or what ? ” He challenged, every sound resonating back in your skin, waves shooting up and down, rippling your heart, he was very much amused when you had no answer.

“ Go, before I kill you traitor. ” You loosened your grip, satisfied to see the four red marks clinging to his cartilage rings, adam apple bobbling when he swallowed hard.

“ Why are we doing this ? ” He pulled you by the back of your neck, his face turning to a scowl.

“ Doing what ? ”

Benji shaked his head like you were being an idiot, “ This.” he said, with more urgency and you huffed before he caught you off guard.

He kissed you, not the first time and as you hoped, not the very last.

But it was different, like all your kisses were more crashing and shearing and reaching for each other while this, this— it was everything the rest weren't. Soft and sweet, a breeze on your mouth, slow and musical, like you had all the time, it was how lovers kissed, so close that his heart was beating in your ribs, so close that sides didn't matter and he was all along in you, with you.

“......” You pulled away when your chest ached for breath, his face was beaming with the crimson patches and lips swollen by you.

“ Do you...” He started, biting his lower lip, you looked away, “ ...you happen to have time.”

“ Not much.” you grabbed at his tunic, pulling it away while his face only heated up like the sun itself.

The moment you took him in your mouth was the moment you changed what has changed, ofcourse, Benji slipped into another person while you were at it, sometimes he would call you ‘darling’, ‘love’ and all those sweet names lovers had the luxury of, but it was forgotten as soon as both of you were in your clothes and senses.

But when he tugged at your hair, whispering sweet nothings with moans only you could make him gasp, or you hoped ( you wished ).

He was praising and guiding as your mouth devoured him whole, sniffing in his musky scent and drowning in his thick juices, he came with cursing “ oh love...” so loud that neither of you could forget it didn't happen.

There was hardly any talking, speaking meant acknowledge of what you were doing and in that case — you both were clueless. You hardly remember how and when this became something that was meant to be.

To meet by the horizon and fuck daylights out of each other wasn't the most fierce rivalry, to speak ill and crude before pulling each other for a kiss that could last lifetimes.

To hold hands as one reached heaven, or presumably hell, each thrust driven with hate, passion and anger and most of all — hope.

Benji and you never kissed after, it was only the initialisation, the ‘ hey, let's fuck.’ and a glare or pathetic attempt to insult was used as ‘ now get the fuck out of my territory ’ with an unsaid, ‘ but be back to me, soon’

So when Benji helped you up your knees, his head leaning against the bark as he show stars in morning blazing sky, before his eyes met you, flushed and pink lips pressed in warm summer sun, softly and sweetly.

“ You are getting good.” and here it was, his pathetic attempt but you were so wrong because that smile, which reached his eyes could never be an insult, and he was still clasping your hand.

You swallowed hard, the sun came up and he was looking at you, his gaze was softer when you looked back, was it today or was it all this time and you never saw, too afraid to fall in those devastingly beautiful eyes, lighting up like mischief.

“ Now get out.”

He chuckled as you pulled, clutching your wrist near your heart, arching your brows because that made you feral — another useless fact Benji had told you.

“ Don't be late—” he bent down, picking his leather pouch along with cloak, displaying his fine ass, shit “ — next time, there's more I want to do. ”

Despite you struggled, keeping the blush under control, or to blame the sun, you felt your whole body stiffening with the mere thought, arousal lurching in your stomach.

“ If you really want to do something,” you took three step back, facing his forward, the sun almost in the sky, blazing his whole face, “ then you could tell your troops on the western front to calm the fuck down, it's annoying.”

“ You didn't answer my question.” He pouted to himself, waving you off.

“ which question ? ” you blinked.

“ Nevermind, next time.” He smirked, you nodded, so there's going to be next time, you held the smile clutched in your cheeks.

“ Right.” you said, nodding while he bobbled in chin in courtesy and walked out of the woods to the blackwood fields.

--------------------------------------------------

“ My leige” A beaded man came rushing, his hand waving a parchment that was crumbled around the edges.

“ Make sure the mother is provided good care —” you turned to him, “ yes ? ”

“ The Blackwood troops dreaded the west aisles... there's been no dispute.”

Something inside you soared high, like bird's first flight and dropped like a free fall, no certainly just a hope.

“...” The said man stared at you, that's when you realised you were smiling your brightest.

“ that's... that's very nice.” You stood up, the woods awaited you.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Fantasy Creatures

Fantasy species are types of fictional creatures that inhabit the pages of fantasy books. Crucially, these different species do not exist in the real world. Some fantasy species are the creation of individual authors, but a great number come from longstanding folklore and may have appeared in fantasy stories for generations.

Common Fantasy Species

Dragons: Massive, flying, fire-breathing reptiles. They are often portrayed as ferocious and untamable, but some dragons allow humans to ride them. They appear in countless fantasy works from The Hobbit to Game of Thrones.

Wizards: Wizards—sometimes called sorcerers—are human-like beings who possess magical abilities. Some wizards can only access magical powers sometimes; others seem nearly omnipotent. Many wizards are shapeshifters and can assume different identities.

Giants: Giants are massive beings that tower over humans. There are many different types of giants, including brutish ogres and the one-eyed cyclops.

Merfolk: Merfolk, including mermaids and mermen, share qualities with both fish and humans. Most live exclusively in water but have amphibious qualities that briefly sustain them on land.

Lizard folk: These reptilian hybrids fall somewhere between lizards and humanoids. Friendly lizard folk often resemble geckos while evil lizard folk may take on the appearance of crocodiles.

Hobbits: Also called halflings, these creatures are among the central protagonists of J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings series. They are noted for their small size and sage wisdom.

Elves: Wood elves typically live in the forest. High elves live in marble palaces. Dark elves typically live underground and may behave wickedly, while other elves tend to have noble intentions. Still other types of elves include night elves, snow elves, moon elves, and aquatic elves.

Dwarves: Dwarves are typically depicted as an ancient humanoid species. Dwarves are squat, burly, and master craftsmen. They are often associated with mining and tunneling.

Gnomes: Gnomes are short and squat like dwarves, but they tend to have a friendlier disposition in fantasy stories. They tend to be tinkerers more than craftsmen. Their signature accessory is a pointy red cap.

Trolls: In standard fantasy literature, trolls are massive, primordial creatures that humane recruit for major battles. During peacetime, they are typically regarded as a nuisance prone to ransacking villages.

Nymphs: Characterized as protectors of the wilderness—particularly trees and plants. In most works of fiction, they are closely related to fairies.

Dryads: Dryads are also known as tree nymphs. In works of fantasy, most dryads bond with a particular tree and consider it an extension of themselves.

Satyrs: Half human and half donkey; typically have an appetite for carousing.

Centaurs: Closely related to satyrs, they are half human and half horse. These hybrid mammals tend to avoid human civilizations in works of fantasy. Sometimes they appear as barbarians and sometimes they appear as stewards of nature.

Demons: Demons can take many forms in fantasy stories, but they are almost always motivated by evil and malice.

Imps: Imps are connected to both demons and fairies. Most are motivated by mischief more than evil. Like dryads, imps closely associate with trees; some are even born grafted to trees in fantasy novels.

Orcs: Orcs are commonly depicted as brutish monsters motivated by evil and cruelty. In some traditions, orcs are corrupted elves. Orcs had fallen out of standard fantasy tropes until J.R.R. Tolkien made them the key horde of antagonists in the Lord of the Rings series.

Goblins: Closely related to orcs, they are smaller, smarter, and easily spotted thanks to their green skin. Hobgoblins are larger goblins that closely resemble orcs.

Werewolves: Werewolves are typically depicted as humans that turn into wolves during a full moon. In some folklore, they are revenants—the undead corpse of a human killed by another werewolf.

Hydra: A many-headed serpent that traces back to ancient Greek mythology. Depending on the work of fiction, some are aquatic and some live on land.

Some fantasy novels describe worlds entirely inhabited by fantasy creatures:

The Goblin Emperor (2014) by Sarah Monette (pen name Katherine Addison)

The Crucible of Time (1983) by John Brunner

More commonly, fantasy settings feature invented creatures interacting with humans and real-world animals. Examples include: 

The Lord of the Rings trilogy by J.R.R. Tolkien

A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin

Source ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[meadow-of-daisies-and-lavender]

Summary: The winter ice has melted, and the spring blossoms have bloomed. But as the elders continue their tyranny over your village, your gods seemingly disappeared. Or had they? Eventual Poly 141.

A/N: Please comment and reblog. Thank you to @ethereal-night-fairy and @wildflower-and-honey for feeding my brain worms. I love you three and cannot thank y'all enough <3 Thank you, @saradika, for the beautiful dividers I use in everything.

CW: (18+) Children begone! PIV smut, swearing, a Dyslexic wrote this, Religious Kinks, some violence. Let me know if I missed anything!

NO AI

Leave a comment and reblog!

There was something in the air that had come with the visiting traders. Perhaps it was the joy of seeing fresh faces or new goods for the village, but you knew it was the change of winter melting into springtime, coaxed by the longer days and warmth of the sunshine peaking hopefully from between the rain clouds. Who couldn’t help but stretch their arms and sigh as if waking from hibernation? Even the trees reached their blossoms to the sunshine, eager to play in the rays of light, drink from the rain once more, and splash in the mud.

The melting waters came with the waking warmth, opening the trade routes in time for the Spring Festival. What once was a holy holiday to celebrate the addition of Kyle Garrick to godhood, the creation of youthful spring, was now a feast to celebrate wealth, trade, and alliances between villages.

You sat beside your neighbor, adding your dish to the feast to share, before twisting in your seat to watch the village elders light the bonfires for the evening’s celebrations. After a week of trade, your village offered a feast and celebration on the night of the holy spring festival as thanks to those who had traveled far and wide to come to the village. You only remembered the Spring Festival being a sacred holiday as a young girl. Somewhere along the way, the spring celebration had fallen from the gods and landed on mortals' laps, becoming a jovial, insignificant matter.

“Why do you look so sour?” Elder Sheppard spoke with a stern face. You would have turned, but his hand clamped down on the back of your neck, squeezing until you grit your teeth.

Elder Sheppard jostled you around like a kitten who needed scuffing. He was known for a forest fire of a temper, flaring into dangerous territory when he was the one who wanted you dead in winter.

You stumbled to your feet as he pulled you from the bench, holding you closer to his body. It was one thing for the elders to plot your murder in the wintertime, to speak ill of you until you had a reputation of a rumored curse. It was another to dehumanize you into their little doll, playing with their food until they decided it was time to eat. He shook you, squeezing your neck until you whimpered, speaking words you couldn’t make out over the ringing in your ears.

The hand disappeared as Elder Sheppard was pulled away by a trader in white, leaving you stumbling onto the table bench, shivering. You rubbed away the touch of Shepard until your skin felt hot.

A mouse had more fight than you did when Sheppard rattled you around. It was how the elders had managed to get you into the woods in the first place, even when you knew it would be your death. Being around the elders left your mind limp and your body frozen in fear, unable to breathe in the fumes of their reign, poisoning you slowly to death. A slow death was still a death- and the miracles to save you were used up and dried out.

The wind picked up as the clouds gathered overhead, threatening rain the next day. You ate silently as musicians began to play, dancers gathering around flames, emboldened by the flowing alcohol. Since winter, the elders made it known you were being watched. You were supposed to be a frozen corpse in the snow or a slaughtered woman at the hands of the gods.

Instead, you had been saved by the gods and granted a miracle of one more day alive. You had slept with the god of winter, partially in thanks, partially because you wanted to. John Price left his marks on your skin as the winter ice marked the rocks, splitting them over time. Apparently, even the gods wanted nothing to do with you now that John had his fill, leaving without a word or answered prayer over winter.

“Look!” Your neighbor gasped. Turning, you covered your mouth as Elder Sheppard hobbled from the trader in white, spitting insults at him as his broken nose gushed blood. The trader, who wore a hood and a mask, glared at the man oozing blood while he remained spotless. You quickly turned to your meal as if you saw nothing and took a drink of wine.

“He will have to leave in the morning as soon as dawn comes if he wishes to leave alive,” Your neighbor spoke. “Elder Sheppard is not a forgiving man.”

“He deserved it. A right bastard, treating people like animals on leashes like that if you ask me.”

A man’s voice from behind made you jump, nearly spilling your wine. With a sigh, you turned in your seat, looking up at the trader in white. Now, closer to the firelight, you could see the golden sparkle gliding through his gaze.

“Punching a stranger from a different village with high standings is like asking for war, trader,” You spoke, rubbing the back of your neck. “Doesn’t do much of anyone good to irritate the elder more than necessary.”

“Well, if he knows what is good for him, he’ll keep his hands off of a pretty bird like you,” The man’s eyes crinkled as if he was grinning under his mask. “Care to dance?”

“No. I only came for the food.” You stood to go home for the evening, appetite lost for the night. “Besides, you already have enough of a death wish with your hot-head actions.”

“Hot-head actions?” The man scoffed. “What he did was a right improper thing. What kind of leader treats his people like that? Yet, I’m the hot head?” The man spoke as he followed you away from the fires, his thumbs looped in his belt pockets. He walked side-by-side with you, only brushing your arm on occasion.

“It is said to be bad luck to speak ill of the elders around here, trader. A man died last winter because of it,” You scoffed, thinking of the soldier who traversed into the woods before you. “I’m lucky to be alive and do not wish it jeopardized, nor should you.”

“Pity. I heard dying is in fashion nowadays,” the man joked.

“Only for those lucky enough to be immortal,” You blandly replied. The man did not respond, deciding to pluck a blossom from a tree and examine it between his fingers. You kept walking, leaving him behind.

“I don’t remember the Spring Festival being a thing about trade.”

You rolled your eyes before stopping to respond, “It’s more lucrative to twist the meaning to bring trade opportunities in. They believe the old gods are dead, and only the new god of power reigns over their hearts and minds.”

“And do you, Fawn, believe the old gods are dead?” The trader spoke, making you squint in the darkness. You hadn’t been called Fawn since...

Tears welled in your eyes, and you unexpectedly felt your stomach drop. The whisper of John’s care still hovered in the memory of your body, keeping you awake and praying for his return. You had tried returning to the woods so many times over winter. But the elders were always there, watching and waiting for your failures. Your prayers echoed in the temple's vaults, responding in a puppet of your voice, mocking you. The gods had gone silent. For whatever reason, they did not want you anymore, casting you aside to deal with your mortal issues alone.

“There,” You swallowed thickly before clearing your throat. “There is a difference between the gods being dead and the gods not caring. Why should the gods not care for what has not cared for them?”

You furiously wiped at your eyes with your sleeve. Your village did not care for your gods anymore, but did it mean nothing that you still cared for them? That you still prayed nightly to John, Kyle, Ghost, and Johnny? That you tended to your altar within your home out of your love for them? Was it all for naught?

“Have you stopped caring for us, Fawn?” The man whispered.

Whirling around, the man had removed his hood and mask to reveal the god of spring, Kyle. His brow was knit low, the bud he had picked now plucked to parts on the road by his boots, and the golden sunshine in his eyes dark to match the reflection of the moonlight. Memories of waking in the north and east gods' presence were cloudy. Of Gaz, you only recalled his bright grin and his brown eyes. The shapes had gone fuzzy in your recollections, lost to time.

“I,” You paused as a light flickered in the distance, growing larger as the shape of an elder grew, walking down the road. Kyle turned, huffing once he caught what you saw.

“You would think your village elders had nothing better to do,” He huffed, placing a gentle hand on your lower back.

“They won’t bother me at home. I’ll make you some tea,” You offered, slipping your hand over his bicep and guiding him to your little home.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” You confessed as you deposited your muddy boots on the porch of your home. “I haven’t heard from you since winter, not even John.” You opened your door and began to busy yourself with illuminating the space.

“John wanted us to wait for you to come to us. He didn’t want us to overwhelm you,” Kyle mentioned as he followed suit, removing his boots. Standing, he moved to enter before pausing, holding the inside of your doorframe.

“What’s wrong?” You questioned, shucking off your outerwear.

“Well,” Kyle chuckled, fingers tapping along the oak, feeling the smooth surface. “We were waiting for you to come to us, but we never saw you enter the woods without the elders following you. And it seems whatever prayers you prayed had been blocked by… this.”

He tapped the top of the corner frame, where a very small sigil had been quickly etched into the frame. It was sloppy, the smooth curves of letters jagged in the rush. Such magic practices were unfamiliar to you but not unfamiliar to your people. However, very few still practiced the magic.

“It is made to keep anything from the spiritual realm out. Prayers, offerings, ancestors, everything is cast out,” Kyle informed you. “Even the fuckin’ gods.” Kyle reached into his belt, pulled out a knife, and whittled away the sigil until it was a scarred, scratched patch of splinters.

“I didn’t do that,” You muttered, fingers hovering over the spot. “Such magic must be an old practice if it works.”

“And it works all right,” Kyle spoke as he crossed the threshold, a gust of fresh air following him into the home. It was as if you had opened all the windows to chase away the stagnant build-up of air, a sudden wash of rejuvenation breathing new life into your space.

Glancing at Kyle, who had entered your home and leaned on the closed door, savoring the fresh air with his eyes closed, you couldn’t help but admire the scars on his cheeks and his tilted smile. You took a step forward, fingers itching to touch his cheek, to trace the plush swell of his lip and the divots of scars to the bridge of his nose. His eyes flickered open, and you froze, heat gathering on your neck. Stepping back, you retreated into the kitchen, rubbing your cheeks.

You loved the gods as a devotee. Out of that love, you let the god of winter, John Price, kiss your skin and cradle your love in his hand as if porcelain. Setting the kettle to boil, you jumped as Kyle settled his hands on your hips, but he waited to see if you would step away before slowly pressing his chest to your back.

“If we had realized the elders were keeping you from us, we would have done something,” Kyle confessed, lips moving as he spoke against your neck. “Price thought you wanted nothing of us after having you in our bed. That didn’t make sense to me, so I came to find you; figure out what’s happening.”

“Wanted nothing to do with you?” You scoffed, turning in his arms. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve heard.”

Kyle chuckled, squeezing your hips. You reached to cup his cheek, finally being able to brush your fingers over his scars. He melted into your touch, his shoulders hunching as if the world's weight had been shucked from him.

“That’s why I came to see for myself, Fawn,” he grinned, pulling you closer. “We can’t let you slip that easily.”

“We?” You questioned, leaning closer to his face.

“We. Who do you think allowed me to go?” Kyle’s eyes drifted down to your mouth, and he leaned closer.

“I didn’t realize it was a group decision,” You breathed.

“It’s always a group decision, love,” Kyle brushed his nose against yours before kissing you softly.

Kyle kissed you as if committing the taste of your flesh into his memory, unrushed and slow. He did not bother to move his hands when yours traced his shoulders and biceps and scratched the back of his head, urging him to devour you. He seemed fearless of the coming dawn, blind to time and her urgency.

Coaxed by his ease and gentleness, your impatience soon melted away. Becoming lax in his arms, you conceded to follow his pace.  His hand slowly slid lower on your hips, reverently smoothing over the bumps of fabric and fat to palm your ass. Your hips jilted forward, bumping into his, making you moan as he swiveled his hips teasingly against yours.

“Fucking, take me to bed already, Kyle,” You huffed playfully against his mouth.

“I don’t know where your bed is, love. Your home, not mine,” Kyle teased back. You rolled your eyes, making him chuckle as he took your hand to follow you into the bedroom. He removed his clothes as you removed yours, eyes darkening as he took in your form.

Asking you to lay on your back, he kissed down your neck, reverently cupping your tits in his hand. He did not pinch or twist; he simply squeezed and caressed the softness in his hands. You rubbed your thighs together, but he settled between them, forcing your wetness to drip down and cool your aching cunt.

“Kyle, please, hurry up!” You huffed, tugging at his short curls.

“Fawn, we have all night,” the god of the north grinned, nipping at your nipple. “Let me enjoy you.”

“What if I’m not enjoying your teasing?” You countered, mouth dropping as his hands covered the icy scars of John’s creation over your womb just as he sucked at the sensitive side of your neck.

“Tell me you aren’t enjoying my mouth on your body, Fawn,” Kyle goaded into your ear, dropping his hips to grind his length against your wetness. He grunted, letting out a moan in your ear. “But it doesn’t seem like you hate this, love.”

No, you did love it. Reaching to grip his pert ass, you tried to coax him inside your cunt, but he swatted your hands away, pushing you up the bed as he spread your legs even wider. Staring intensely at your cunt, he licked his lips, easing a leg over his shoulder.

It tickled as he brushed his lips over the inside of your ankle, made you shiver as he licked the back of your knee, had your hips bucking by the time he sucked the skin of your thighs into his mouth, biting the flesh or rolling his tongue against it.

The only reason for your existence was to give his mouth your supple flesh to consume and drink from. His hips shuttered against the sheets as he ground his cock into the mattress, his back and hip muscles rippling with the motion. You moaned, throwing your head back into the pillows and pushing your hips against his cheek.

“Absolutely soaked for me, aren’t you, Fawn?” Kyle hummed as he dragged his tongue over your pussy, drinking you up. He avoided your clit, deciding to agonizingly insert a finger into your heat, rubbing against your walls until you relaxed enough for a second finger.

“I want to suck your cock, Kyle,” You whined, gasping as his other hand rubbed circles on your clit. “Probably as pretty as the rest of you,” You babbled, thinking about being on your knees for him, reducing him into as much of a flustered mess as you were at the moment.

Quietly, you heard the shlack, shlack, shlack of him fisting his cock before he licked at your cunt. Squealing, your bucked hips were shoved back to the bed as he wrapped his arm around your body to anchor you to him. With one hand around his cock, and one now playing with your clit as he ate you out, you gushed, knowing your wetness was wrapped around his cock.

“Are you going to cum all over your hand for me? I want to see you cum- so good,” You couldn’t stop talking, rolling your hips in time to his hand around his cock. “Shit, I’m,” You groaned, grabbing the back of his head, but just as you neared your orgasm, he pulled away, panting into your thigh.

Your body dissolved into the bed with a frustrated squeal, your cunt still pulsing for attention. You sputtered out curses at Kyle before feeling him hoist your legs in his arms and pull you down the bed to his waiting mouth, building you back up.

Over and over again, he teased you. Bringing you to the brink of the edge, he’d ruin your orgasm until you were babbling and thrashing beneath him. Finally, as he sucked your clit and pushed three fingers inside your cunt, he pressed down on your lower stomach. He let you cum then, bursting and gushing with a cry over his hands, feeling a very small stream of liquid escaping you.

Ears ringing, you went limp, feeling your pussy pulse with distant contractions. Your chest rose and fell with each pant as Kyle gingerly set your legs on the bed, rubbing at your sore thighs.

“Feel good, Fawn?” He whispered, leaning down to kiss your temple and brush his nose against yours. You nodded, letting your heavy eyelids fall, sinking into blissful warmth.

Kyle had fucked you before he left that morning, entwining his arms with yours as he worked his cock in from behind, spooning you in the morning hours. After, he fed you berries and nuts from his altar, which you had chastised him for.

“What’s the point if I can’t share?” He countered. “Besides, I don’t want them to go to waste when you need energy after last night.”

You had managed to wobble out to the door to see him off, kissing him one last time before he tugged up his white mask, making his way north to his woods. The birds sang from the blooming trees, and even with the morning chill, you couldn’t help but melt against the doorframe and inhale, exhaling into the stillness of the morning dew.

But even in the stillness of the morning darkness, tinged with the dusty blues of dawn’s hatching, you could feel the eyes of another raking over your skin. Peering down the road, you glared at a neighbor staring intensely at you from their porch and returned inside your home for more rest, knowing the elders would hear of your guest by sunup.

When you were woken by the mid-morning sun, you were not surprised to discover your arms wrapped in silver scars shaped like ivy and vines, the god of Spring, marking you as his.

a/n: Please comment and reblog!

[vilhelios]

— WAIT FOR ME / I'M STILL SOMEWHERE ;

( you're getting older without me and i'm getting scared ) ; in which rafayel still hopes that there's a life where this works — where you do not crush his bleeding heart in your hands, & he still loves you despite, despite, despite.

cw: not beta read; spoilers for abysswalker rafayel's "sea of golden sand" myth, "fragrant dreams" card, "siren's song" anecdote, & main story ch. 7; angst ; some fluff ; mentions of blood, injury & death ; theories + headcanons about mc & rafayel's past lives ; kinda pretentious rafayel lore analysis ( can't help it, i just love him a lot! )

"RAFAYEL, do you think we're lovers in every universe?"

in the stillness of the night, as he mindlessly draws designs on your skin with his thumb, rafayel lies through his teeth: "yeah. i'm sure we are."

it's all he can manage. how do you tell your lover—your dear, sweet muse, whose presence makes the sea of your heart ebb and swell—that you've wondered the same thing lifetimes ago, and know the answer with bittersweet certainty? you continue talking about an article you read, in the morning—something about "consciousness energy fluctuations" and "that feeling of deja vu" and "soulmates."

and rafayel wonders, humming along to your rambling, if that's what you two are: soulmates.

"i wonder what we're like." you sigh, burrowing your head into the warmth of his chest. surely you can hear the rapid thrumming of his heart—he can't help it, the organ so helplessly weak in your presence. "you're the most creative man i know; got any ideas?"

"i think," rafayel starts, runs his fingers through your hair, "there's a life where i'm a merman, you're the human i've fallen deeply in love with, and the barrier between the waves and the shoreline is all that's stopping us."

rafayel remembers being younger, lifetimes ago. he remembers swimming upstream, through a little river that becomes a smaller creek, settling by your quaint home. he remembers playing you a song on his flute, an elegy for lemuria that became your song. he still remembers your head peeking out from the window and the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen staring down at him. you were like sunflecks dancing upon the water's surface—dazzling—and he, denizen of the deep dark sea, couldn't help but fall in love. he gave you his heart, his blood, his voice.

"hmm... reminds me of an old fairy tale." you press a kiss to the beauty mark on his chest, your lips curving into a smile against his skin. right above where his heart is, where the proof of your pact would shine bright. "do you think you'd have gotten a pair of legs and we'd live happily ever after on land?"

"of course i would've." rafayel smiles.

(he does not think about the way his voice grew hoarse as he sung lemuria's elegy. he does not think about the dagger he'd clutched so tightly in his hidden hand, as you approached him on the shore. he does not think about the hug, the warmth of your body making his resolve flutter. the warm blood on his hands, in the water, seeping from the heart he once loved and now carved out and cradled. he does not think about returning to a ruined lemuria, everything he's ever loved ripped away from him in a night.)

"then i like that one. what about another? knowing how we quarrel, do you think we were royalty hailing from opposing kingdoms?"

"hmm, close. i'd say that i'm an assassin, sneaking into your lovely highness's bedroom window."

"hah! i can see that." his heart flutters when he hears you giggle. rafayel wishes he could trap that beautiful sound inside a conch shell, it almost seemed possible, the way it felt like molten gold—sunlight. "i'd leave the windows open just so you'd have an easier time coming in."

"glad to know you'd still fall for my charms." he finds it in himself to smile, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "even if it might not be the brightest idea, dummy."

"hmph, but if we still loved each other then, you wouldn't kill me." your hand reaches upwards to cup his cheek, a thumb aimlessly stroking comforting lines across his skin. his breath hitches at how naturally it comes to you. "you'd fall for my charms too."

(why wouldn't it? you've done it so many times before, as you—dear highness of philos—gingerly removed his mask. he, who was destined to carve out your heart; and he, who could not bear to do so, who fell apart in the warmth of your hold. any hatred he'd held in his heart for the humans that desecrated his home —beautiful, sacred lemuria— dissolved with each ripple of the lake you both had danced across on that silent night. how could he ever hurt his beloved, who in another life he'd devoted entire oceans to?)

"yeah." he breathes out, almost a chuckle. "yeah, i guess i would, your highness."

"rafa?" you murmur, words slurred with the call of sleep, ushered in by him running a hand through your hair. "i really hope that we're soulmates even if it's in the silliest lives you could ever think up. do you?"

(and he hopes for more, a case study in greed. he hopes for the most blissful lives with you—where he's the receding sea and you are the sands of the shore, or you are an anemone polyp and he is the rock you've decided to settle upon, or he is the deepsea fish that looks longingly upon the warmth of the sunflecks that dance upon the water. he hopes there's a life where this whole thing works: where you do not crush his bleeding heart in your hands, & he still loves you despite, despite, despite.)

and rafayel smiles, presses the umpteenth kiss tonight to your forehead, watches you draw closer into his hold. and then he whispers his little wish against your skin, as soft as a siren singing lullabies to a sailor:

"yeah. i hope so too."

a/n: on this lovely valentine's day i offer the rafa stans: angst 🤩 the ending was a bit rushed because i... was no longer in an angsty mood. this fic is very much so a product of a time where i knew less of rafa's lore (see: did not finish the myth) so there may be some lore inaccuracies ... please do listen to berenstein by the band camino!!! l&ds' plot feels like an amalgamation of some of my favourite songs (berenstein, heartbeat by bts, isohel by EDEN)... and it's just such a good plot so far. please send me rafa lore stuff/general thoughts bc i'd love to try and play around with some of them (i have an idea for his birthday fic already) ,,, i'd love and appreciate you immensely ♡