#Sometimes as a way to wind down from a work day

[seungsuki]

my dove - a dance between lovers on a thread (gn!reader) warning: spoliers if you didn't finish aot note: i havent been writing alot but i push myself to release this. enjoy :)

scars are beautiful, aren’t they? they tell a story of strength and survival. find the perfect person, and the scars turn into fallen stars on a once dark night, twinkling as a reminder. they don’t hurt, but they remain- preserved, better than any exhibit in a museum.

every scar deserves love. they act as a history book, each line portraying a different chapter of your life. that’s how you felt, gazing down at the sleeping figure on your lap, your fingers tracing the titan marks etched into his skin.

you took your time to feel each line, as if by memorising them, you could learn more about the man beneath the tree with you. they felt so fresh, perfectly carved into his face, a living sign of all he had endured. how could someone look so angelic? you often told him he was a sculpture, it’s unfair how his smile could stretch wide enough to draw you deeper into his world. 

maybe you’re just lovesick for him, to the point of wishing to see that same smile for the rest of your days. he was so engraved in your soul, intertwined with your very heart, making it impossible to separate. he often joked about how he’d like to be buried in one coffin, a perfect solution to keeping you close to himself.

call it selfish, but you wanted him all for yourself. no one else was allowed to see him the way you did. no one else could touch him the way your fingers did, brushing over the scars he hated with all his heart. no one was allowed to talk to him the way you talk to him. you would rather be devoured by a titan than watch someone else steal moments from you- moments that felt would end if you blinked too quickly.

his voice played in your mind like a cherished record, the silliest of conversations clouding your thoughts, but always bringing a smile. was there ever a day you weren’t thinking of him? 

you reached out for his hand, warm and familiar, as memories flooded back of  him inviting you for tea with his mother. his voice would always calm the oceans that flood your mind. he was your guide, always bringing you back to shore no matter what. he once brought up about loving him for his looks, to which you always tell him about loving his heart more than his face

even his titan form had a special place in your crowded heart. the way he would gently unfold his enormous hand for you to stand on his palm. allowing you to look down on the world from heights you never imagined.

he’d lie on the grassy field and you would take the biggest brush to comb his tangled hair. sometimes, he’d drift off to sleep, letting you work your magic. in those moments, you’d sneak in a flower and he would pretend to never notice, anything to make you happy after all 

his titan form would move boulders for you, quite literally. seeing a giant titan crouch down to hear you would be the funniest sight as he would be straining to hear your whispers. he would go to such great lengths for you. you remembered the day he brought you an entire apple tree just because you mentioned how much you loved the fruit, his titan eyes shinier than emerald

“will you release the dove? it’s fast asleep on your lap.”

you snap out of your thoughts, looking up to see armin standing in front of you. had you really fallen asleep under the tree? his words register as you glance down to find a dove resting peacefully on your lap, utterly unbothered by the world.

“a dove…?” you murmur, confusion creeping into your voice.

you don’t remember seeing a dove at all. your heart tightens, tears pooling your eyes. have you truly gone mad? you swear you felt him here with you, in this very field of grass. how is a dove here, but not him?

you gently raise your hand to wipe the remains of your tears, the salty reminders of your grief lingering on your cheeks. the warm winds push your hair strands to your eyes, as if trying to shield you from the truth resting on your lap.

brushing your hair aside, you catch sight of the tombstone beside you. your heart sinks further as you read his name, the date below it a haunting reminder of the reality you wish wasn’t true.

“again? [name]... he’s gone now”, armin sighs, settling down in front of you.

“no! he was just here! i-” 

you stopped talking,voice trailing off as you looked down. the dove stirs at the commotion, gazing up at you. you swear you could see his face on the same dove. his innocent head tilt, a carbon copy of the man you loved 

“you should seek help. how long will you keep sitting here? you come every day,” mikasa says softly, observing the two of you.

you look up to the girl before looking back at armin. they both shared the same look- pity. you shudder at the thought, already hating the sudden shift in the air around you.

“eren isn’t dead. i’m going to visit him so don’t wait for me” you insist

you flutter your eyelids shut, throat barely coughing out the words for them to hear it.  why do your eyelids feel so heavy all of a sudden? your heartbeat slows, breaths lengthening, as if time itself is stretching.

“you’re back,” a familiar voice rings out.

you open your eyes and look down, and there he was. eren yeager, lounging comfortably on your lap. he looks up to you, waiting for a response. the same small smile dressed his usual look 

“i’m back,” you whisper, reaching down to stroke his hair

“are you leaving again?” he asks, sadness lacing his words.

“no,” you reply firmly. “i’m staying here. for good.”

his smile widens, brighter than before, and you lean in closer, letting your fingers trace the scars you’ve always loved. he lifts his hand, resting it over yours. together, you both sat at the same tree, clouds replacing the leaves. 

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator. all images are from pinterest

[merumis]

kuroo loves thunderstorms.

the first time he tells you this, he's standing just before the threshold of your balcony—the door cracked open but the screen still closed, feeling the wind curl its way around your building.

it's early november and he's wearing a sweater you gifted him last christmas. you bought it two sizes too big and he insisted on wearing it again the moment the weather started to get colder anyway. it's a rich blue and warm and soft enough that you constantly find yourself leaning into him—on the couch, in public, even before your balcony's screen door—sometimes you wonder if he wears it just for that.

between that and the way your cat swirls around his feet, his tail dragging along kuroo's calf, he seems to almost melt into your apartment. your first place post-grad, that weird mix of childhood, college, and new-adult decor muddling the whole of it: a couch that you got at a discount furniture store but fell in love with anyway; stuffed animals your friends send you every birthday; a childhood favorite of a book sitting on an old thrifted coffee table, a dark oak that you wouldn't be able to afford otherwise.

and kuroo. warm, thunderstorm-watching kuroo, whose mug of herbal tea has been long forgotten on one of your homemade coasters.

you're never quite sure what to call him. the man you sleep with some nights; the guy who will always match your halloween costume if you ask; your cat's favorite of your friends; the name your grandmother keeps asking you about every time you call. you know you told you him you loved him once—really loved him—in some drunken college stupor that feels more like watching a movie from across an open-concept's kitchen island than a memory now.

(that's a lie. you know every detail. the rum warm in your throat, being fresh off the high of his birthday. it was the first snow of the season but the rain the next day mingled with it and turned it to muck that ruined your favorite pair of boots. his breath was hot against your cheeks, the stoop of his apartment building a hollowly adored wind tunnel that decorated your instagram—stone chipped away at the corners, moss growing up the sides, a buzzer that only worked if you pressed the button three times. you kissed him like you always have and his nose was cold as it pressed into your cheek. you whispered it to him and he laughed. you didn't text him for three days.)

there's a familiar pull at your tongue now. a burst of lightning briefly illuminates your apartment and is then followed by the crack of thunder.

"you should probably close the door," you say—instead of i love you.

kuroo shrugs, turns back with a lazy smile on his face. "if you say so," he replies, like every word is a game that the two of you play. he swings the door closed and twists the lock shut. he moves in a way you want to describe as "moseying" tonight, like all of his limbs are relaxed four times more than they should be.

"you should stay here tonight," you tell him as he moves to your couch. your cat follows after him, pawing up his leg as he sits down. he jumps up and settles deep into his lap—there's a brief moment where you envy him. "rain and all."

"so you're telling me i brought my umbrella for nothing?" he teases.

you laugh. "you can use it on the balcony."

he has a pair of sweatpants in your top right drawer of your dresser. you reluctantly washed them last week after spilling apricot jam on the third wear. you never choose to dwell on how a pair of sweatpants gets left at your apartment—you can imagine what his answer would be.

kuroo hums, "it's almost like you want me here."

"i don't," you lie, "just figured my apartment had a better storm view with how much you've been lingering." his apartment is about four stories higher, a few blocks down—closer to his work. it has more windows, a larger living room, a leather couch that you can feel sticking to your bare back if you close your eyes.

it's the better view. it gets fog in the early mornings so you can only see the bounce of headlights from the street below. his bedsheets like to twist between your legs at night in a way that pulls them from the mattress, though—so you suppose you always win there.

"it's homey here," he replies, and you feel the smile tugging up at your lips, "smells like spruce." he eyes the candle he bought you on your kitchen counter, lit and melted to the edges. three wicks, because he knows it's your favorite.

the candle, your favorite expensive lamp your professor gifted you last summer, and the range hood are the only lights in your apartment at the moment. kuroo calls them homey, you call them headache-reducing.

he pulls a hand away from your cat to gesture towards you over the back of the couch now. a palm upwards towards the ceiling, fingers outstretched in a subtle beckoning of your own. your tongue curls with that sickly desire as you step towards him, slip your fingers into his as you round the couch, settling into the cushions as his arm slides across your shoulders.

you reach up to play with his fingers—absent-mindedly. you swore you would do better when you graduated, that maybe things would start to fall into place and, for once, you wouldn't find yourself chasing after a man you could have if you would just allow it to happen.

but you don't know how to say i love you on a thursday—because you swear friday will feel right. you don't say it friday because it's too young, a whole weekend ahead of you that you can't mess up. a movie on saturday, brunch on sunday. you don't say it sunday night because you won't see him until wednesday, but then you catch him for happy hour on tuesday. and you don't know how to to say it.

"you know my grandfather loved spruce," kuroo says, and you look over to catch his eye. he's staring out at your coffee table, looking at nothing in particular as he speaks. "he used to whittle—before arthritis and tremors and whatever—but his dad told him that spruce was the hardest to work with. something about how soft it is or the grain or whatever." he shifts with your cat, letting him crawl up his arm onto the back of the couch. his tail falls over kuroo's shoulder, and now you get the curl into him a little more.

he pulls you closer before you really get the chance to move.

"but he always loved spruce. the smell, the needles, the look, all of it, you know? it was just one of those things, so he learned to whittle with it.

"and when he met my grandmother, he started whittling her all these little things. a duck for their first date, a wooden box for her jewelry, eventually toy blocks, when she was pregnant with my dad." kuroo pauses, and for a while, you think you have something stuck in your chest. you thumb traces up his forefinger and he catches your hand, finally moving to look you in the eyes.

"it's nice to come here and remember him sometimes."

there's another burst of lightning and it crackles across the whole sky behind him, dodging in and out of buildings and making the texture of the clouds pop out against the whole open expanse of it all.

his breath is hot against your skin, his ears are tinged with a bit of red and for a moment you consider running to your thermostat to turn it down a few degrees, but then his lips find yours like they always do.

and in the muddle of lips, you don't even think before you whisper an i love you, murmured into his mouth as his nose traces frigid shapes against your own.

you don't have to listen to know he says it back—though you do, listening for the timbre of his voice and feeling the vibrato of it against your throat—but you can smell it, you can hear it, some days, you can taste it.

spruce-scented candles, thunderstorms that make the whole city colder, the burning of rum against the back of your throat.

you think you can feel it: leather that sticks to your skin, hands that only whittled while his grandfather was alive, but are calloused anyway, a sweater that you'd buy him in the right size if he asked.

you tell someone you love them without ever saying the words. you know he drinks three drinks at happy hour and you only have one—he insists on walking you home anyway and he always stays the night.

and you know he never brought an umbrella, that he works from home tomorrow and his laptop is sitting in his backpack next to your door.

you know that he's warm, that he's kissing you, and that he told you he loves you on the thursday evening as a thunderstorm turned into rain and fog.

[pinkaditty]

Who's Passing NNN? Tokyo Debunker Pt 2

this is SO cliche i know. please. let me... have this...

a/n: 2 posts in less than 24 hours!?!?! yes!!! enjoy, please. im kinda proud of these. not even gonna tell y'all how i am bc u already know. quick disclaimer that i write these under the assumption the tokyo debunker boys are at least 18 years old. they appear to be present at a university considering there are professors and a chancellor. not to mention the boys drink, smoke, gamble, and refer to themselves as adults. summary: part 2 of the whole 'who out of the tokyo debunker boys is passing NNN?' thing. pretty self-explanatory. cw: fictional men jorking it!!!!!! MINORS DNI!!!!!!!! not really proofread i fear Frostheim || Vagastrom || Jabberwock || Sinostra || Hotarubi || Obscuary || Mortkranken (jabberwock already written yea currently working on sinostra)

MINORS DNI AS USUAL! THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!

Vagastrom:

Alan Mido: Fail

NOW! Before you jump me! He failed by accident. Forgot it was November. Needed to get his rocks off after everything pissing him off for a while. Sometimes though, he manages to hold out for a while. 

He’s working on a car right now, laying on the car roller, fixing it up after an unfortunate accident while dealing with an external anomaly. He lets his thoughts wander as he fixes the car. So many things had pissed him off this week. Ishibashi needing to meet at ridiculous times, Leo being unreliable, even his grades slipping. This car was just one of them. Maybe he needed to blow off some steam. Maybe he could go for a drive? No, not enough. Spar? No, he’d already taken enough of Sho’s time. Maybe… a different way? 

A sudden itch makes itself known just as he thinks that. He stiffens under the car, clenching his jaw. None of that. He was in the garage. He had to hold it together. He shakes his head and continues working on the car, ignoring the itch. He tries to come up with other ways to blow off steam. Studying, exercising, anything. The itch grows stronger. He sighs angrily and forces his attention on the car. He was in the garage, for fuck’s sake. The itch continues and then grows into a twitch. He presses his thighs together on impulse, before realizing how that may look and coughing, spreading his legs apart again. He bites his tongue and continues fixing the car as the twitching persists. His face becomes flushed and his composure cracks just a little. He couldn’t ignore his twitching cock forever.

And, maybe it’d be a good way to blow off some steam… 

Shohei Haizono: Pass

Well. As much as it seems like he may have a crazy sex drive, and as much as I would like to subscribe to that idea, I just don’t think it’s true. He doesn’t have a strong one. That said, he hardly goes a month without masturbating. He manages, but when he goes so long without it, it can get kinda frustrating. 

There were far too many customers today, he thinks. He’d gone several days without being able to wind down, since his food truck had been so busy. He’s glad for the success, but it’s become so time-consuming. The feeling had come out of nowhere, but since the last few customers and all throughout cleaning up, he’d been feeling a little pent up. His half-hard cock pressed insistently against his pants as he wiped down the counter, ensuring it was clean before he let out an exhausted sigh. The cool night air responded with crickets chirping and some owls hooting. 

Well… There wasn’t anyone around. 

Before he knows it, he’s turned off the lights, tucked himself underneath the counter where he wouldn’t be visible, and has eagerly pulled his cock out. He can’t be bothered to care about his surroundings as he starts, biting the sleeve of his uniform to prevent himself from being heard. Unfortunately, some light, breathy groans escape through the fabric of his shirt, but the noise mingles well with the pap pap pap sound of his hand over his cock and the shuffling sound of his legs opening and closing, overwhelmed with pleasure. His body shakes as he releases, careful to catch it in his palms, not wanting to have to clean again. When clarity finally hits, he sighs and shakes his head, observing his mess. God, how many sanitation laws did he just break?

And… did he remember to close the window?

Leo Kurosagi: Pass (Miserably)

Had to be clear. Yes, he passes, but barely, and miserably so. He’s doing it for clout and he’s posting about it, too. He’s letting his fans run wild with speculation at his announcement and letting them make all the claims they want when he successfully completes it. However, I’m quite confident that the second it was December 1st, Leo couldn’t fucking stand it anymore.

November 31st, 11:59pm. He lays on his bed with a half-hard cock pressing unyieldingly against his boxers and his phone in his hand with a drafted post congratulating himself for completing NNN, ready to be sent the moment that clock hit December 1st, 12:00am. He keeps his eyes fixated on the time, letting his hand drift downwards and hold himself through his pajama pants. The time still hasn’t changed. He gives himself a light squeeze, and is shocked at the needy sigh that passes through his lips. Fuck, he just needed this time to change. He just needed this time to change. He bites his lip, keeping the pressure on his cock as he gently strokes through his pants. He shifts his legs around, progressively getting more and more antsy as he stared at the time. 11:59 still. Who knew a minute could last so fucking long? He continues stroking gently, getting himself to full mast, twitching the entire time. 

Just as he’s about to give up, the time changes. 12:00am at last. He hurriedly presses “Post” and practically tosses his phone to the side, reaching inside his pajama pants and boxers to wrap a hand around his stiffened cock. He wastes no time in stroking, surprising even himself with his needy whines and unintelligible phrases and throaty moans. He spreads his legs apart and grips his thigh with his free hand, speeding up his pace. He moans through gritted teeth before his eyes roll back and his jaw goes slack, yielding a strangled moan as he covers his hands and pajamas with his release. He allows his legs to collapse on the bed, and picks up his phone again, checking his post. 

1k likes, 200 comments. It was 12:01am. Sheesh, that didn’t take him long at all…

a/n: wowee! i spit this out at 2am yesterday and fine-tuned it 2day so enjoy. eat this. i will be back 2 post jabberwock's soon, hopefully.

note that, as per usual, i enjoy likes, comments, and reblogs!! please tell me how much you enjoyed my work!

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Hope is in Buns, Life is in Stars, Promises in Vain

Okay so I'm gonna be honest, the Local Executioner!König is the hardest AU to work on. I don't often because it takes immense effort, but I did make another addition. This is a hella long post, and hopefully you all like it.

I admit, of all my fics this is the one I treasure most. It's a somewhat medieval fantasy, but the world is entirely my own. This is not your average fantasy. This is not DnD fantasy. This has been carefully crafted over years to be its own thing. I have so much about this AU its insane.

In truth, this AU will one day be its own story. I am telling you, this is a fic I want to publish under my own name. When it happens, I'll let you all know. Until then, enjoy the fic I work the hardest on.

EDIT: I exceeded the character limit. Y'all lucky bastards get two parts. As punishment for my mistake, part two goes out tomorrow.

TWs: Executions, death, gore, torture (referenced), period-sexism, threatened homelessness (it's an empty threat, your aunt is just mad)

Wordcount: 7.5 of 11.7k (This is my longest fic to date)

Art from This Post

Long Story Blow the Cut

Hope is in Buns, Life is in Stars, Promises in Vain

 You watched as Luit(1) rose into the night sky, followed by her faithful servant(2). Luit’s bright light cast long blue shadows over the golden brown wheat fields that surrounded the home. Far into the horizon, the Culling Woods crawled in a serpentine fashion through the hills and valleys. You just hoped that the person you were looking for wasn’t home.

You’d made a promise before and you damn well planned to keep it. You repeated this motto over and over as you carefully crawled across the creaking wood floor and gingerly descended the aged winterwood(3) stairs to go into the shadowy kitchen below. You found The Axe’s provisions tucked away in the back corner of the shop shelves, covered in a loose white linen rag. You fished it out and plopped it all into a wicker basket, brushed down your dress of crumbs, and set out into the night.

You thought the night would’ve been bright enough, but you were glad to have brought the family’s old wormglow(5) to light your way as you walked along the road. Shadows danced among the wheat fields as you passed by. Sometimes, a whisper of wind would crawl through the stalks and up the back of your neck. You shivered, pulling your coat around you tighter and hurrying your step, fearful of what might lurk among the treeline. You couldn’t help but feel that the bobbing light might attract more than moths and gnats as you made your way to the Criahlin’s stone. You hoped and prayed that only The Axe would find you there.

You dimmed your light as you made your way into the edges of the forest. You feared that behind each tree there might be a wicked bandit prowling. Worst yet, there might be a drunkard, maybe even a lost man of the village. You worried about their wandering eyes falling on your virgin form in the night. With a shiver, you hurried your step along the dirt path.

The Criahlin’s stone rose up on a mound in the forest. You passed by the swinging remains of long-decayed bodies to make your way up to find the great stone stage cleared of any fallen leaves. You looked around nervously as you made your way to the center of the blood-splattered shale stage. A part of you wondered if The Axe truly was a monster, that maybe he lured you out into the dark against your will. Maybe he’d decided to take you for himself out here under the shadow of the trees. For all you knew, he wasn’t even here, and had set up some vagabonds to descend upon you in the waning light of Luit.

Just as you were about to turn back, you heard a great shuffling coming from behind you.

You whipped around to face down the newcomer. In the shadows of the forest, you could hardly see the being, only making out a great and massive form. He drug something through the leaves, something long and heavy. In the other hand he carried a full and heavy sack of some strange bulging contents. You trembled as the figure drew closer to you, slow step by slow, dragging step. You stepped back quickly, stumbling over your feet as you tried to make space between you and the figure.

The figure stopped when you gasped. Slowly, it raised a big hand and waved at you.

You squinted, then sighed when you realized who it was.

“By Halax, you gave me a fright!” you called out to the figure.

“I’m sorry about that,” The Axe stepped into Luit’s light and threw the great cloth sack over his back with a grunt.

“What do you think you’re doing there, creeping around in the forest like that?” you huffed, “and what’s that in your hands?”

The Axe looked down and raised up the stick to reveal his great black axe. This one didn’t have the engravings you knew of. It looked smaller, too. 

“It was getting late. I figured I might pass the time by chopping some firewood,” The Axe explained and gestured to the full sack on his back, “what about you? What took you so long? I was worried you’d never come.”

You grimaced, “My aunt and uncle didn’t want me to come out and see you,” you explained as you brought the wicker basket to your aproned front, “I brought you a couple of extra rolls as an apology.”

The Axe stepped up onto the stone slab stage and came forth to stand in front of you. He picked out one of the rolls and held it up to see it.

“These are… There’s something different about these ones,” he squinted at the offending bun.

“That one’s a honey nut bun,” you explained, “there’s also a sap bun and that one’s a beetle meat bun. I was probably going to take the beetle meat home with me as a snack for the road.”

The Axe gently lowered the bun down to the basket as he whispered, “You didn’t have to do this. Just getting bread is enough.”

“Well,” you shrugged, “maybe you can tell me how good they are.”

“I don’t know how good of a judge I’d be,” The Axe shook his head, “I’ve never had any special buns like these before.”

You laughed, “What do you mean? Everybody’s had some of these buns! They’re the best in town!”

The Axe looked at you sadly, “Not me. I’ve never had one of these before.”

“Never?” you pushed.

“Never,” he repeated, “I could never justify the price.”

“Are you saying my uncle is unfair in his pricing?” you rose an eyebrow.

The Axe shook his head firmly, “No, not at all,” he put his axe from his shoulder and struck it deep into the soft earth, “I just never had enough coin to buy one.”

“Really?” you blinked in a stupor.

“How could I afford a bun when I can’t afford tinder for my fireplace?” The Axe replied, “I can’t afford such lovely things. I’ve always wanted one of these, but two? I can hardly believe my luck.”

He looked at the basket sadly, “I… I can’t take this. It’s… It’s too much. You’re being too good to me.”

“What?” you frowned and crossed your arms, “of course you can! I’m giving them to you!”

“But I can’t take such nice gifts for free,” The Axe complained, “you’re too kind and generous to waste such precious goods on someone like me.”

“Well, not really,” you admitted meekly, “I mean, I did forget your rations yesterday. Think of this as just something to make up for it.”

“But-”

“No buts!” you cut him off quickly and held up a finger to point at his chest firmly, “look, I brought you the buns because you deserve them. I mean, it’s fair, right? I forgot your rations yesterday, this is to make up for it. And anyways, they were probably not gonna sell. They’re old. I mean, well, maybe they would’ve sold, but who cares. I think you should have them.”

“Not sold?” The Axe tilted his head to the side, “but aren’t these the best buns in the village? Father Kim and judge Holten always tell me so…”

“Sure are,” you grinned briefly before frowning, “and as I said we probably would have, but we made too many again. If you didn’t take them, I’d probably give them to a farmer to feed their animals or something. That, or add them to Father Kim’s offerings. That’s probably how he knows they’re so good, actually.”

“Well, anything you give me is a treasure,” The Axe said softly as he took up the wicker basket. He looked around himself, but seemed to be at a loss.

“Is something wrong?” you asked.

“I thought I brought a bag, but the only one I have is full of firewood now,” he muttered, “I… Hm… Do you think you can wait a bit?”

You looked up at Luit and down at the horizon. You’d been out for a while already, and the thought of being out at night, alone in the Culling Forest, completely at the whims of nature and her crew… You shook your head.

“I really don’t want to be alone out here,” you said, “what do I need to wait for anyways?”

“I need to go back home and get a good bag for these,” The Axe replied, “it’d be a shame to get wood slivers all over these.”

“Why don’t I just go to your place with you?” you offered.

The Axe straightened up above you. His eyes sharpened in Luit’s light, ghastly blue in the pale hues of Densis’s-watch(4). He heaved his axe back up from the dirt and swung it over his shoulder with a dangerous grunt. You withered under his watch as he glared down at your shivering form, cold in the night and weak under his watch. You’d never felt so small before. Had you offended him? Had you maybe insulted his good nature?

You were about to say something when he held up a hand.

“That’s fine with me,” he replied hoarsely, “I just… I haven’t had visitors before. You’d be my first.”

“Your first? Doesn’t anyone visit you?” you asked.

“Not willingly,” The Axe replied, “nobody comes to me unless they absolutely must. Even Father Kim, good a man as he is, he avoids coming out here,” The Axe took a look around at the hanging bodies in the trees, “I can understand why.”

You watched as The Axe ducked into the shadows of the trees , only briefly checking over his shoulder to see if you were actually following behind him.

You trailed behind him quietly, letting him lead you him deeper into the woods.

—

The path creeped along the forest floor until it came to a small wooded grove. In the center, The Axe’s small rustic a-frame wood cabin stood tall among the shrubbery, framed on one side by a small vegetable garden and on the other by a lean-to wood shed. A small idol of Criah(7) had been mounted above his door.

“You know, you’re a lot closer to my place than I thought,” you muttered as you followed behind The Axe to his front door.

“My great grandfather fought for many years to build here,” The Axe said as he whacked his axe into a rotten stump.

“You guys had to fight to build here?” you wondered as you took in the glowing candle lanterns way up strung above you.

“Nobody wanted to live close to us,” The Axe explained bitterly.

He walked up to the door and briefly touched the head of the idol and muttered a silent prayer. Once he had given his thanks, he turned back to you and looked at the wicker basket in your hands.

“You can pass me the rations and I’ll bring them back inside,” he said as he opened his door.

You tried to hide the disappointment in your voice when you asked, “You’re not inviting me in?”

The Axe shook his head and nodded up at the idol, “It’s bad luck for anyone else to come in. I… I don’t know how much I believe in all those stories, but I don’t want to test it tonight. Not with you, at least.”

You looked up at the tree giant’s face, eyes painted like brilliant rubies shining wickedly in the dark.

“I don’t really want to test it out either,” you admitted as you opened your wicker basket for him.

It didn’t take long to pass The Axe his rations and get them into his kitchen. You were once again startled by how little he was actually allotted. He only got a single loaf and a handful of plain rolls. It was practically criminal to give the man so little. Half way through passing over the baked goods, an idea flashed through your mind.

“Alright, that’s the last of the regular rations,” The Axe said as he came to the doorway again, “I just need your ‘apologies’ now.”

You looked down at the mostly empty basket longingly. You went to pass over the bun, then paused. You looked up to him hopefully.

“Actually,” you said slowly, “I was wondering if maybe you’d like to eat a bun together.”

The Axe’s eyes shot wide open. His normally sorrowful eyes were wide and bright with boyish glee.

“You want to eat them with me?” he asked, unable to contain his excitement.

“I mean,” you shrugged and stepped out towards an overturned log, “I can stay out for a bit. I don’t have much to do tomorrow. Might as well enjoy Densis’s-watch, right?”

“Aren’t you worried about sharing a plate with Criah’s son?” The Axe slowly drew out of his dark home to stand in the light.

“Halax watches over me,” you smiled and sat down on the mossy seat, “I think I’ll be safe.”

The Axe followed you before sitting on the earth in front of you. You almost wanted to ask him to take off his hood to see the awe on his face when you fished around your basket for the buns. He looked practically euphoric as you passed him the sticky honey bun, wrapped in a parcel of parchment.

His thick fingers struggled to undo the twine, inhibited by his eager trembling. You almost had to laugh at how excited a man born of death and blood became over a simple honey bun. He looked less like a staggering colossus and more like a young boy shaking with unbound glee. He looked like he was unwrapping presents for the first time. You immediately sobered up on the thought that it was entirely possible that this was his first gift from outside his family. What a horrible, horrible thought.

He carefully held up the bun in his hands to Luit’s light. His blue eyes shine with unspoken delight as he slowly examines the treat in his hands. He looked at you, then back at the treat, then put it down sadly in his lap.

“What’s wrong?” you asked as you crossed your legs beside him.

“I…” he gestured vaguely to his face, “I don’t look very… Pretty.”

You snorted, “So? I look at my uncle every day; whatever you look like is bound to be a million times better.”

He shook his head gravely, “No. I assure you that what’s under here is far worse than you can imagine.”

You uncrossed your legs and leaned your elbows on your knees. Carefully, you turned to look at him properly, “You really think it’s that bad?”

“I know it’s that bad.”

You hummed as you drummed your fingers on your chin.

“You’re really not comfortable eating while I’m here?” you asked sadly.

“I just don’t want to upset you,” he wilted under your scrutiny.

You looked around carefully before your eyes lit up.

“I’m so stupid. Why don’t I just turn around?” you offered brightly.

The Axe glared at you, “How do I know you won’t peek at me? You’re not easy to trust.” 

You shrugged, “I think you’ll just have to trust me on this one. Also, I’ll be honest, you’re not too easy to trust either.”

The Axe’s stare was unwavering.

“I kept my promise before,” you pointed out, “doesn’t that speak for something?”

“It speaks to the fact you snuck out from under your uncle’s nose,” The Axe raised an eyebrow behind his monstrous dark hood.

You gave him a wry grin, “Well, if I didn’t, I would’ve broken my promise with you.”

The Axe shook his head tiredly, “I don’t think a pact with an executioner is worth a rift in your own home.”

“You’d be surprised,” you chirped.

The Axe observed you carefully. His watery eyes scanned you over once or twice before he chuffed, “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“It’s more fun that way, isn’t it?”

The Axe nodded from side to side with a disapproving hum. Instead of arguing, he simply sighed and said, “Well, turn around then. If you think a promise to an executioner is worth that much, then so be it.”

“It’s more than worth it,” you said as you gathered your dress to be able to turn around on the log. You picked through the basket to pull out a bun and pulled it out to take a small bite. You hummed. Even though the buns were a few days old, they were still as fresh as ever. You couldn’t help but wonder once more if your uncle had his oven enchanted. With how good everything that came out of it was, you wouldn’t be surprised.

You were brought back to reality by a small whimper behind you. You instinctively went to turn but caught yourself at the last second. The whimper came from behind again.

“Is everything okay?” you asked quietly.

You heard a thick swallow.

“It’s…” The Axe paused briefly, “it’s so sweet. I’ve never had something like this before.”

Your hands dropped to your lap.

“You’ve really never had a honey bun before.”

His hood shuffled softly as he shook his head, “No. I’ve only had honey five times in my life.”

“Five times?” you parroted weakly.

“Five,” he replied, “twice as a boy I had a spoonful of honey, once at my mother’s funeral I drank tea, once at my father’s I had honey mead, and now today I’ve had a honey bun for the first time.”

You could hardly imagine being deprived of such a basic luxury as honey. Not a single lick of the amber to cross your lips for years. How many years? You were about to try and figure it out when you realized a glaring issue in your data.

“Just how old are you, Axe?” you asked.

“I’m coming on twenty-two cycles(8) now,” he told you quietly.

“I’m coming into my twentieth,” you replied, “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have honey with my herbs(9)”

You heard The Axe shuffle awkwardly beside you before letting out a long sigh through his nose. You could hear his hood shuffle again.

“You haven’t turned to look at me,” he whispered.

You looked up at the treeline encircling you both.

“I don’t really have need to,” you said as you admired the branches waving in the crisp wind, “I have so much to look at here.”

“What trees, boulders and orange blots(10)? You can’t be telling me that you find anything interesting over there,” The Axe teased you lightly.

“Well, I’ve never seen an executioner’s home before,” you explained as you looked at the lanterns wound through the trees before sloping over to the front of The Axe’s slanted roof, glinting like the stars themselves came down to grace you, “I don’t know if I’ll ever get another chance.”

You took another bite of the beetle meat bun. The meat was stringy, gamey, rich with fat that pooled into your mouth. A delectable treat for a simple baker’s niece, but not much for anyone else. It was strange to think that even this simple pleasure was beyond The Axe’s means.

The Axe took another bite of his bun, savoring each and every bit of the sweet treat. You listened to him turn again. He was silent for a moment. You wondered what a man like him could be thinking of, but he was quick to tell you himself.

“It doesn’t have to be the last time you come here,” his voice was nearly lost in the wind whispering through the trees.

The statement sat heavily between you both. The weight of his words hung on your shoulders, dragging them down to the leaf-covered dirt around you. The wind picked up briefly, sending waves of shimmering grass flowing through the clearing before it settled again. The metal lanterns clinked lightly above. In the distance, you could hear a spirit spook(12) chiming delicately in the breeze. It figured a man like him would need one by his home. You could only imagine how many had come to curse his name.

You looked up at the glittering stars above, winking at you from their place in the blackened sky. They seemed to stare down at you, interested in what your next move would be. A follower of Halax, a follower of life and creation, being welcomed in by a follower of Criah, a follower of death and grief. The gods surely must have been entertained by the show put on for them that night. To see two mortals sitting there, struggling against their fates like they had any chance to slow the weaving of the tapestry, as though their little fingers could undo the binding that had been formed long before they breathed life into their lungs; surely, there couldn’t be a more entertaining act under the cover of Densis’s(11) cloak.

“It doesn’t.”

You heard yourself more than you spoke. It was surreal to hear those two simple words pass your lips, and yet they hammered your souls together inseparably.

“It doesn’t,” The Axe repeated with a hint of excitement, “you could come again. We could do things together.”

“What sorts of things would a baker and an executioner do together?” you laughed sorrowfully. 

The Axe was quiet for a moment, then said, “We could talk to each other.”

“About what?” you asked.

“About whatever we liked,” he offered, “without the fear of others hearing.”

You watched the stars twinkle overhead approvingly.

“It would be nice to be free,” you replied.

“It would be,” The Axe replied, “we could say whatever we liked. We could honestly be ourselves. Nobody could tell us what we could and couldn’t say to each other. Nobody would stop us from being true to ourselves.”

You took another bite of the bun and let a drop of grease dribble down your chin.

“If nothing else…” The Axe said carefully, “it would be nice to have company.”

You nodded solemnly. The forest around you dimmed its nocturnal din to listen to you two lost souls pontificate together, pondering the possibilities of what could be. What would be, if only you let it.

“When would we meet though?” you asked, “and how could we meet? You know people in the village will start asking questions.”

“The cover of Luit’s light does wonders,” The Axe mused, “but I need to sleep. I can’t stay up late like this often. Neither can you. Your work is more steady than mine. I can… We can… You go to the local church, ja?”

You nodded slowly, “I go. I go often, actually. I need to deliver goods to the church regularly.”

“Then why not meet there?” The Axe offered, “under the watch of Father Kim. Who could possibly stop you from devoting yourself to the church?”

You smiled at the thought of meeting a follower of Criah in Halax’s home.

“Would you be welcome there?” you asked.

“Father Kim is a good friend,” The Axe replied eagerly, “he would be willing to find us a place where we can be apart from others.”

“Are you even allowed on church grounds?” you asked warily.

“I am,” The Axe sniffed, “any follower of any god is welcome in a holy sanctuary. I do not need to be devoted to Halax to be invited into her house.”

You shook your head bitterly.

“You’re barely given a seat at the tavern,” you said sternly, “how can Father Kim possibly allow you on hallowed grounds? Surely you’ve been banned? I know from talking to others that people like you are never wed in the church.”

The Axe sighed heavily.

“I am not allowed to wed there, yes, but there is a pew for me in there,” he said, “you don’t see it because I’m in the room below with the other forgotten people of the village. I am able to listen through the grate beneath Father Kim’s feet.”

“There’s a grate at his feet!?” you nearly turned around again to stare at him.

“Eyes forward,” he warned you before softening his tone, “yes, there’s a grate. There’s only a few pews in the basement, but we’re joined by the Sisters of Halax when we go. Maybe, if we go to church together, I can show you.”

You fiddled with your thumbs in your lap, the last of the bun now gone.

“It sounds interesting,” you admitted thoughtfully, “and you’ve been a good man to me so far. You’ve not done anything to hurt me. Actually, you’ve been nothing but good to me. You even protected me from any curses. You could’ve let me into your home, but you were kind enough to stop me.”

“I would never hurt an innocent person,” The Axe said swiftly.

You frowned at that. The Axe surely couldn’t be so simple, could he? The way he phrased ‘innocent’ had your hackles raised in your seat. Why would he specifically use that term? Was he truly a creature of the court? He couldn’t be so naive as to think that the justice system was completely without fault. No man could be that foolish, particularly not one so close to the action.

“Are you sure about that?” you asked warily, “haven’t you considered that an innocent man has been on your chopping block before?”

You heard the hood shuffle quickly behind you. It almost sounded as though he was shaking his head.

“I only execute the guilty,” The Axe said firmly, “Judge Holten only sends guilty men to stand or kneel before me. He is a good judge, and a better man. He may not like me, but I have faith in him and his abilities. He hasn’t let me down once before. I think you’ll find he has a faultless record. I like to think that he’s been blessed by the gods with insight and honor. So no, I am sure of what I said. Judge Holten would never send an innocent man my way. I have full faith in his convictions.”

You squirmed in your seat slightly, but said nothing to counter him. Something told you to try and contradict him would lead to a full blown argument. No man ever spoke so surely unless he lived and died by those very words. A part of you had the feeling that The Axe needed to live by those words. If he didn’t… You shuddered at the thought of what sort of man he would be.

“I assure you,” The Axe said to you gently, “I would never harm you. Again, I would never harm an innocent citizen. I am not a good man, but I am a just man. I am an honest man at heart. I wouldn’t harm a hair on your head if I could help it.

“Unless, of course, you were to commit some egregious crime of some sort,” his tone softened to a morose whisper, “please… Please tell me you won’t don’t do anything of that sort. I… I don’t know if I could live with putting a rope around the neck of the first person to treat me with kindness willingly. I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

You reached back behind you and brushed your palm against his back soothingly. You tried to push the cold chill crawling over your skin down, blame it on the cool wind and the black sky, not on the words of a man who believed that justice could do no wrong. You didn’t want to think about his words, but you figured you might as well try and placate him.

“I assure you I have no plans to do so,” your face split into an uncomfortable smile, “but… Even though I’ve been kind to you, you would still execute me? Even though I’m the first to actually try and get to know you? The first to really try and be your friend?”

The Axe sighed, “I promise you that I would ensure your end would be quick and painless. Even if I was ordered to nip you with the tongs or screw your thumbs, I wouldn’t dare do that to you. I would never do that to someone I care about like you. I may not have known you for long, but what you’ve done for me in these past two days is more than anyone else in my entire life.

“I would not draw out your death for the court even if they begged me. I would ensure that you would go quickly,  honorably.”

“Then you’d take me out with that big axe of yours?” you asked.

“I’d ensure it,” The Axe promised, “I don’t know if you’re aware, I assume there’s rumours in the village but I might as well settle them here and now. Many generations ago, that axe was enchanted to be sharper, to cut more easily. It’s designed to cut through flesh, not wood. It was made to kill, not to maim like my firewood axe. I use my good axe to give quick deaths. Most people want to go by the sword, but I assure you that the axe is much better.”

“You don’t always give quick deaths?” you asked nervously.

“Sometimes I can’t,” The Axe shuffled awkwardly, “sometimes the court orders me to draw it out. Sometimes by using a duller blade like my firewood axe or the rusted sword, sometimes through a drawn out death, like the wheel or being stretched.

“I… I don’t like to hurt anyone. Guilty or not, I don’t care. I just want to ensure it’s done as quickly and easily as possible. I don’t like drawn out deaths, even if they’re asked for. I assure you I don’t. But if I don’t do it, somebody worse would. You understand that, right? At least if I do it I ensure that they suffer less than they could have by somebody else’s hands. 

“In my guild, you know, my career guild, I speak to executioners across the land. I’ve learned what those men are like, both from my own experience and through my own poor father. I witnessed these men and I can tell you that they can be vile. I hate to be among some of them. Many are like me, but some are…” The Axe bristled under your touch, “they are sick. Sick and rotten men. If there is one group of guilty men that walk free, it would eb them. I pray you never are unfortunate enough to meet such men in your life. You’d be blessed not to. Or, maybe, maybe I was cursed to meet them. That seems a bit more sensible.”

You closed your eyes and let out a slow breath. Of course The Axe would be honest. He was the hand of justice, he had to be righteous and true. He was expected to uphold the image of the court, even when being spat upon by the families of the deceased after lopping off their loved one’s heads. You’d seen him be slapped by old widows of hideous criminals, seen men try to strangle him over their wives’ bodies. He took all these beatings calmly, stoically, like the perfect picture of the court. He’d let them hit him and curse him until they went to far, and then he’d throw them back to the earth and let them scurry on their way. You could only imagine how their hatred was burned into the very essence of his being.

And yet, The Axe took it all without a single stumble. He uttered no more than a grunt when a man tried to stab his gut. He only tossed the blade aside and thrown the man down, then lowered his axe above his chest. You’d seen the man falter, look up at those impartial eyes and realize what he’d nearly done. If anything, The Axe could be an entirely merciful face of the court.. He was the perfect executioner. If nothing else, that much was about the only good thing regularly said about him in the village. He was the perfect face of the court’s axe. Impervious to suffering, yet compassionate enough to let them take out their rage on him.

But, at the end of it all, he was the source of their rage. Sometimes, sometimes it was for terrible reasons. Terrible, terrible reasons indeed.

“You torture too,” you whispered as softly as the wind blew through the long dead grass.

“I must,” The Axe replied swiflty.

“Do you…” you shuddered at the question, “you don’t like doing it, do you? You said you don’t, but, what do you think when you do it? How do you feel about it?”

The Axe shivered under your hand ferociously.

“I hate doing it,” he admitted bluntly, “were I born any other man I could bring love and joy into this world the likes of which could change the very soil we are born from. I can try to be this force when I help heal wounds of the injured and maimed, but there’s only so much I can do. I was born of death and I am shackled to it forever,” The Axe sniffled slightly, “but if given a chance, I would throw down this axe in an instant and I’d heal the unfortunate for the rest of my life. I’d devote to my father’s studies, learn the herbs of this land and save the wretched from the hands of the grave. I would be good. I would be pure, of heart and soul and mind alike.”

You frowned, “You heal wounds? You’re joking. You’re an executioner; you’re a killer, not a healer. You can’t really be trying to tell em that you are a healer.”

“When the apothecary and the doctor cannot set broken bones or suture wounds, they call upon me,” The Axe explained, “I have… I have a great deal of experience in mending great wounds.”

“Wounds you inflict?” you asked, unable to hide the sharp cold edge to your words.

The Axe flinched as you drew your hand into your lap.’

“Forgive me,” he whispered, “but it is not my choice to be this man. As I said, were I anything other than this, was I born of any other man, I could sow the earth with good seed and save the damned. I sometimes think that if I had another chance, I would’ve been like Father Kim and given my body to one of the gods. I think that I was always destined to follow Criah, but maybe I could’ve helped those families grieve. I could’ve cured the sick of their afflictions, I could’ve been good.”

You took in a deep breath, holding it in for a count of four before letting it all out slowly. He was an executioner, he was a torturer, and he was a medic? On top of it all, he had dreams of being a holy man, though no church would ever welcome him into their arms. No man like him could ever be forgiven. And so, to reconcile these parts was to find beauty in dung, but you tried to do so regardless. You supposed he was also known as one of the chief morticians of the town as well. You’d heard plenty of stories of how he’d been whipped by widows in the middle of funeral ceremonies. Sometimes, he was supposed to be burned for as many crimes as the victim had committed. You could only imagine how many scars covered his body by this point in his life. Supposedly, to maim the man who’d been ordered to kill your loved ones was to give some sense of grievance to the family. It was meant to help them heal from the loss. You only hoped that Criah approved.

“It’s not your choice to do it,” you admitted, “I don’t think any sane person would choose to live your life.”

“As I said before, some do,” The Axe interjected harshly, “and it’s those men that I despise.”

You shuddered at the thought. A large hand settled to warm your shoulder.

“I am not one of those men,” he assured you, “and I never will be. You have my word on that. Not just as a man, but as the axe of the court. I swear to you I am not, never have been, and never will be that sort of man. I am a monster, but I’m a monster of men’s making. I was not born of corrupted flesh.”

“And I have your word as the axe of the court?” you asked shakily.

“My word and my heart,” he replied gravely.

You sighed, ever so slightly relaxing. It figured this conversation would come eventually between the both of you, but to be able to have his word so gravely was a comfort, at the very least. However…

“I want your soul in your promise too(13),” you said quietly.

The silence that came forth was sharp and twisted your insides with a rusted blade. He seemed to meditate on your words as they whispered around you, echoed back by the trees and the calls of nocturnal songbirds. The forest floor creeped and crawled with detrivores, with his kin. You watched as a centipede crawled out from a decaying leaf, curled around slowly before descending back underneath the leaf litter below. How you wished to join those small creatures. A part of you wished to die there, to not have to live in the silence that followed your ask.

You felt tension rising in the air. Pressure collapsed inwards, you saw the candle-lit lanterns flicker above with some unseen, unfelt force. No wind blustered, no frog croaked. All was still to listen to this deathly child’s answer.

“My soul is yours,” The Axe finally said, “I swear upon my soul that I am not a man who enjoys torturing and maiming like a lowly animal. I am a man of Criah. I swear to honor the dead and dying until I too join their ranks. I will not enjoy taking even the most heinous criminals to their graves. That is not the sort of oath I’ve made to my god. No matter what, no matter who or what they are, I promise that I never take delight in harming another soul.

“I should like to help them, if possible. One day, I would like to put down this axe once and for all. I’d like to spread peace and life. I wish to be a doctor, or maybe a cleric of the church. I know that such a wretch as myself is not welcome, but if given a chance I would like to save others that have been damned from birth like myself. I truly wish to break these bone shackles that chain me to the grave. I wish to rise above and see life prosper. I…” he hiccupped under his breath, “I wish to be good. I want to be a good man. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore. I hate this life I live, but there’s nothing I can do to escape it. Nobody will train an executioner’s son. I was damned from birth, but if just given a chance…”

You smiled faintly.

“Is your hood in place?” you asked.

“I finished the bun a while back,” The Axe said, “it’s in place. Why?”

Without another word you turned and hugged the giant man with both arms. He stiffened at the touch, but soon his ice melted and he embraced you back.

When you pulled away, you could see a shine of tears in his eyes.

“Nobody has ever listened to me before,” he said quietly.

“I think more people should,” you replied, “you’ve a reputation as an honest man. You’ve been nothing but good to me, and never have you given me a reason to think you’re lying. I may not know you well, but Axe, I want to. I want to see the good man you can be.”

“I want to know you too,” his voice warbled behind his hood.

“Then we’ll know each other,” you promised him, “and we’ll be friends. We will be better together.”

“But how?” The Axe asked sadly, “when will we next meet? How can we next meet?”

You thought carefully. Your fingers drummed a steady pattern on your thigh as you straddled the large log. You kicked your dangling feet before pulling yourself to sit beside him properly.

“I think we can meet at the church,” you replied, “I can say that I’m seeing Father Kim and visit you as well. I still need to see Father Kim, of course, but maybe I could make time for you too.”

“But when?” The Axe asked mournfully, “now that I know another’s touch, I can’t bear to be apart from you for long.”

“We won’t be,” you assured him as you soothingly touched his arm, “I have to bring in the weekly rations on the first of every god-watch. I do so halfway during the eighth watch every wake.”

“Halfway through the eighth watch on Halaxwake?” The Axe asked you desperately, drowning in possibilities.

“Halfway through the eighth watch on Halaxwake,” you confirmed, soothing him with your soft smile.

The Axe scanned through his mental list, you could see his eyes searching side to side as he sat scouring his mind for any possible conflicts, but soon he turned to you with a mirthful crinkle in his eyes, “I think I can manage that.”

“It might not be very long, but I promise you I’ll make it worthwhile,” you assured him.

The Axe shook his head, “Don’t be sorry. Any time with you is a breath of life after drowning alone for so long.”

You frowned and held his hand tightly.

“I don’t want to go back,” you admitted, “I wish I could stay here with you.”

“But you must,” The Axe told you, “if you stayed, it would be a worse fate for both of us.”

“I think my Auntie might drop dead of shock if she knew I was here with you of all people,” you chuckled, then glanced at Luit falling down into the horizon, taking with her Densis’s cloak of stars, “I need to get back soon.”

“How soon?” The Axe asked.

“As soon as I can,” you admitted.

The Axe looked around briefly, then stood and urged for you to follow him. He brought you out back behind his home to a small ramshackle stable.

He clucked his tongue, and a soft chittering noise came from within the singular stall.

“Meet Hunter,” he said gently as he opened the stall door for you, “she’s my riding beetle.”

You looked in the stall to find a massive beetle. She stood on six tall spindly legs and stared down at you from atop an even longer neck. Her sharp mandibles clicked as she slowly woke and stared down at her new visitor.

“You have a riding beetle?” you wondered aloud, “I thought those were a luxury! Or, well, that’s what my uncle says whenever I tell him to get one.”

“When I had to travel to other towns for work I put in a request to the council,” The Axe explained, “I expected a rejection letter, but a pigeon told me I’d be getting a beetle. She’s young, I had to tame her myself and she was quite the handful, but they gave me a surprisingly fine beetle in the end.”

“She looks like a stalking beetle(14),” you looked up at her, her little black head at least ten feet above yours while bent.

“She’s part stalking beetle, yes,” The Axe said, “but she’s also part station beetle(15).”

“How’d they get that mix? Wouldn’t they eat each other!?”

“I wouldn’t know, I’m no beetle breeder, but Hunter’s been a good friend to me through the years,” The Axe said as he saddled her up, “now come on, we don’t have much time before the first collection-vigil(16).”

You hissed at the reminder and grabbed The Axe’s hand to help haul you up onto the beetle’s back. You scrambled and slipped across the smooth carapace but soon managed to sit yourself in front of the large man.

“Not used to riding beetles?” The Axe asked as he set off towards the mill.

“My uncle refuses to get one,” you explained, “I want one to pull a cart to town though. Walking can take so long sometimes.”

“Well, Hunter could do that,” The Axe mused, “but she might be fussy about it. I also think using a court-approved beetle to draw a simple wagon wouldn’t go unnoticed either. I can only imagine the outrage when you show up with my beetle pulling your wagon.”

“Well,” you sighed as you settled your back against The Axe’s chest, “a girl can dream.”

The Axe chuckled, “That she certainly can.”

Luit - The Moon, often called the Older Sister

Lui - a small asteroid orbiting Luit, often referred to as the Younger Sister or Luit’s Servant

Winterwood - A species of deciduous tree that grows in the north. Known to be quite a soft wood, it grows quickly and is often used for furnishings of a home. Its cheapness adds to its versatility. Earned the name ‘winterwood’ for how pale the wood is (almost resembling the snow) and how it begins growing in winter.

Densis’s Watch - The way of saying night/night time. Opposite of Brak-hah’s-watch, which means day/daylight

Wormglow - In older times a brilliant worm(6) was strapped to a stick or put in a glass cage and used to light the night. These days, most people use an enchanted piece of metal on the top of a stick or in a glass lantern to be able to see in the dark. Most people fashion the metal to resemble a brilliant worm, partially to stay true to the origins but mostly to enhance the glow. 

Brilliant Worms - A twelve centimeter long caterpillar that grows a brilliant yellowish-green colour when they are feeding or communicating to other brilliant worms. In older times, they were captured and starved during the day to be fed at night. Over time, the practice was considered cruel, and by this time it has been phased out almost completely

Criah - God of death, grief, hope and forgiveness. Also known as the Weeping Father or the the Howling God.

Cycle - A year. One cycle consists of four turning times (seasons). Each turning time is broken up into two moons (months). Every moon has five god-watches (weeks) composed of ten wakes (days) broken into 10 watches (hours).

Herbs - Another way of saying tea in this world

Orange Blots - A large orange and black-speckled squash with a notably soft and delicate white flesh. Used for soups or deserts, much like a pumpkin.

Densis - Goddess of night and dreams, wife of Criah

Spirit Spook - Sounds like a wind chime. Used as a way to ward off evil spirits from the lower realm and keep away bad luck. Has varying results.

Soul - Soul is the reason that things be. The reason rocks atomically are structured as rocks, the reason lightning crosses the sky and lands in one spot on the earth, the reason men laugh and dance and sing. Soul is most powerful in living beings (though everything in existence has soul), but even then some life has more soul than others. Mammalian species like dwarves, gnomes, elves and humans, for example, have much weaker soul than that of plantkin and much weaker mushroom folk. However, they have stronger soul than the chiton clan (insect folk). In this context, to swear a promise upon your soul is to bind your very being to the promise. Some mages will go so far as to enchant their words to keep these promises, but most cannot do so, and thus just say it to convey the most important promises.

Stalking Beetle - A black and red beetle (sometimes white, black and red or white and black) with a long, long neck and a pointed snout. Looks somewhat like a giraffe weevil with a more articulated neck (think like a snake). Excellent hunters. Are very dangerous in combat because of their long necks, sharp mandibles and good eyes. Can fly short distances, but not commonly. Very spritely and difficult to train for their energetic nature. Used by members of the court or light infantry. Known to be expensive to keep. Thankfully, Hunter is more herbivorous than most due to her cross-breeding  and is thus cheaper to feed. Naturally carnivorous, trained to be omnivorous in captivity. 

Station Beetle - A pretty drab looking beetle, usually brown or black (rarely albino white). They are slow but steady beetles that make up a good portion of riding beetles. There are a few subspecies, but most look like either big dung beetles or flour beetles. Usually very good natured. Has poor eyesight but excellent smell and can be trained to follow scents from town to town. Can fly medium distances when provoked. Often used by countrymen to travel from town to town, almost like small cars. Though called station beetles, typically are only for transporting a family and not for hauling carts or stations. Mostly herbivorous. 

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

Part Two

[mirdance]

A Walk Home

Pairing: Vampire x fem!reader

Tags: stalking, obsession, light NSFW thoughts, autumn vibes

Summary: Just a vampire who has been pining over you for many years.

Thank you to the commissioner!

In that part of town, along the winding buildings, a rustic brick road cracked and gave way to unmanicured weeds and bushes. He hadn’t noticed until recently the red of the cobblestone dulling over the years, as one tends to only think of the good ol’ days, even in the most mundane of things. The good ol’ days—a subjective opinion based on one’s past, thanks to the lens of nostalgia.

And what were the good ol’ days to you?

You, the one who could clip a plant from private property with no remorse, only remembering manners once the shopkeeper scolded you. You, who had been so enamored by the beauty of that plant that you’d momentarily forgotten all propriety.

He couldn’t remember the plant or the shop. To be fair, your succulent hands had been a terrifying temptress, tiny scrapes decorating your knuckles like glaze.

That was about eight years ago when he first saw you. To this day, he still dreamed of kissing the back of your hand and grazing his tongue against your skin.

He stopped in front of an empty shop with a dilapidated "Closed" sign hanging crookedly on the glass door. The bushes that lined the building were nothing but twigs swaying in the autumn breeze.

You’d ended up working in a nearby antique shop, constantly on the verge of shutting down, as those stores tended to do. The products weren’t even that old, but you’d tell their stories every time someone inquired about them. Not that he remembered any of the stories. After centuries of living, all stories ended up sounding similar and blurring together. However, your animated hands would sometimes gesture so wildly that you almost knocked over the products you were so passionate about, and that was worth remembering.

Red leaves blew across the cobblestone in front of your store, a natural frame for the setting orange sun above. He had just missed being able to visit the shop by five minutes.

“I’m sorry! We just closed. If there’s something specific you want to see, I don’t mind opening for ten more minutes.” Your voice rang against the chilly evening as the bells on the door sang with you locking it. 

“No need. I was just taking a stroll since the weather is cooperating. I’d hate for you to work late just because of me.”

You placed your keys in your bag, one you painted with flowers and ladybugs, and grinned politely. “Yeah, and the owner would probably scold me. Labor laws and all that. But I’d think about it for one of my favorite regulars.”

The leaves rustled beneath your feet.

To be honest, he didn’t know the last time he even thought about labor or laws or combining the two. However, he laughed along with what appeared to be a joke. “Well, we definitely wouldn’t want to break the law. I hope you haven’t been working too hard these days. You’re sounding a bit under the weather.”

You waved him off. “Not at all. Just the changing seasons and all that. I love autumn, but my body doesn’t.”

Your body. He glanced at your hands, one gently resting atop your bag. Comfortable.

“It’s getting late, and I shouldn’t keep you,” he said.

“Please don’t worry. I always enjoy our conver…” You sneezed into your arm.

He quickly stripped off his coat and wrapped it around your shoulders. “You should dress warmly during the changing seasons. It’s not good to shock your body with different temperatures.”

“I know; it was just so warm earlier I didn’t think about it getting cooler later. Thank you for this, but you’re going to need it.”

You began taking off his coat until he placed his hand on your shoulder. “Please,” he begged softly. “It would be inconsiderate of me to allow a lady to be underdressed in the cold. If you’re comfortable, I would be happy to walk you home. Otherwise, I’m sure I’ll visit the shop again this week… I would hate to intrude on your peaceful walk with my babbling.”

You grinned and shrugged into the coat. “I don’t live far. My therapist said I needed to make more friends, anyway.”

And what did a carefree creature like you need a therapist for? It wouldn’t be an appropriate question, but there would be plenty of time for the deeper reflections of life soon enough. He gestured for you to lead the way, and you began walking side by side. “Your therapist is right. It’s good that you’ve found someone who supports your emotional needs.”

You let out a breathy laugh. “I don’t know about that, but they help in some ways.”

He took a moment to listen to the way your shoes brushed against the leafy sidewalk, lighter and more haphazard than his own. “Well, if you ever need a listening ear, I’ve heard I have pretty decent skills.”

“I appreciate that. I’m okay; I just needed some coping strategies to deal with work-life balance.”

“You do indeed work a lot,” he replied. “What sort of strategies have you learned? Maybe I could benefit. I tend to overwork myself.”

A lie, of course. He wouldn’t be caught dead—or undead—overworking. There was plenty of time to get everything done, and anything that needed an immediate response simply wasn’t worth his time and effort.

You hummed an “uhm” for a moment while he edged closer, mimicking the way you stepped over the cracks in the pavement. The streetlights flickered to life as the sun gradually lowered, casting a dim glow that pulsed in time with your heartbeat. He was glad to see the sun falling. He wasn’t too terribly sun-averse, but it did make his skin itch.

“Well,” you started, “learning to manage time, setting boundaries, focusing on health, taking breaks, asking for help when you need it. I think I struggle with asking for help a lot, especially in my line of work.”

He nodded. “You do seem to be working alone quite a lot. I could see how it would be a challenge for you to ask for help. However,” he ever so gently brushed his shoulder against yours and grinned, “you decided to let me help you keep warm on the way home, so that’s a start.”

He would have to procure more ways you’d need to ask for his help.

“I...I suppose I did,” you replied, tugging the coat closer to yourself. “It smells great. What cologne do you wear?”

He wasn’t a huge fan of cologne or perfume, but he’d heard you enjoyed floral smells while listening in on a work conversation, so he became something of a connoisseur. “Birch and lavender. I can’t remember the brand, but I was drawn to the description. It described it as morning light through the swaying branches. To be honest, I’m not an early riser, so I thought perhaps I could experience morning in a different way.”

Your laughter felt thick in the gathering dusk, a sound that echoed back to him, taunting and sweet. You brought your nose to the fabric and inhaled. If he were less composed of a being, he would have either collapsed on the spot or grabbed you by the collar and inhaled your scent until he carved his teeth into your tantalizing neck. However, wine needed to be aged sur lie, and he had plenty of time to taste you.

“I’m not sure if it smells any more morning than anything else, but it smells nice,” you responded.

“Thank you. It makes me happy that you enjoy it.” And now, he thought, you would smell like him until you showered next.

As you walked, the evening air grew thicker, the shadows lengthening around you. A smile graced your lips as you held his coat close, and oh, if only it were his arms pulling you close, but indirectly would suffice.

“You know,” he said, lowering his voice above a whisper, breaking the silent air. “I was a little nervous earlier, but not so much now. I have enjoyed talking with you.”

You turned to him, delight flickering in your eyes. “Is that so? I’m glad, though I’m not too exciting of a person.”

"Excitement is subjective, isn’t it? I’ve seen a glimpse of your passion for the things you love. Do you find me boring for enjoying similar things?”

You waved your hands. “No, sorry if it seemed that way. You’re right. Everyone has different enjoyments, and I’m always glad to have you in the shop to listen to me babble.”

He chuckled. “Of course, the pleasure is mine.” He could only dream of the vibrations your neck would emit across his lips as you spoke. Getting you to talk about your passions was easy, but could he make you babble incoherently until you were singing his name?

You slowed your pace, and he matched it effortlessly, the rhythm of your steps becoming a slow dance as you neared your home. He was in no hurry to fill the silence; the sound of your feet pushing aside the leaves and the shuffling of your shoulder as it occasionally brushed against his was enough to fill his soul.

He stopped in front of your home before he remembered that he wasn’t supposed to know where you lived. Fortunately, you didn’t seem to notice. You paused in front of him, hesitancy filling your gaze as you awkwardly clutched at his coat.

“This is my stop. Thank you for walking me home. Hopefully you didn’t get too cold.”

He stepped closer, the warmth of his body radiating against the cool night air. He was suddenly very glad he’d fed the night before, as his skin would often chill between meals. He would have hated to force you to be even colder. As he leaned in, the scent of lavender and autumn leaves enveloped him. He took a shuddering breath as he gently pulled his coat from your shoulders.

“Not at all,” he stated assuredly, folding the coat over his arm. “I’m a cold-loving creature. My coat is always ready for you if you need it.” Of course, he’d be wrapping himself in it that night under the gaze of the moon and whatever god judged him from above.

“I appreciate that. You know,” you said, your voice low, “I’ve always heard the best connections are made during the night.”

He almost choked on the air as his gaze lingered longingly on your face. “I’ve heard that as well. The best connections are often made in the shadows. There’s something... intimate about the dark.”

You agreed excitedly. “Yes! Exactly. Or maybe I’m just tired. Either way, it’s just that—sometimes, the universe has a way of bringing certain people into our lives. So, thanks for always visiting me at work and brightening my day. I’m glad I had the courage to talk to you more today.”

He briefly sent an internal thank you to the universe.

“I am glad as well. We should definitely grab a bite together sometime.” If he could hold himself off before taking a bite out of you.

“For sure! Well, thanks again. Have a good night!”

And without waiting for his reply, you dashed to your door in a blur, as if running from the danger of the shadowy labyrinth that festered in his heart. He allowed himself to momentarily watch you drop your keys twice before inserting them into your door. He wanted to ensure you made it inside safely, of course, as he had done many times before, though this was the first to your knowledge.

As the glow of orange dissipated over the horizon, he brought his coat to his face and sighed. Perhaps it was time to stop day dreaming. All previous notions of having all the time in the world were dashed as he inhaled the scent of your shampoo mixed with his cologne. How much longer would he have to wait to feel your skin against his, to feel the way your skin caved against his fangs?  You would be his second death, that he was sure of.

[izayoichan]

Love is: Late night reading.

[sunsburns]

okay but logan taking an interest in neighbor who works in fashion?? he always sees her carrying stacks of magazines, dressed in her chic attire that is sometimes a bit too tight in all the right areas, glasses slipping off her nose, always making calls on that damn phone, and yet he always wishes she looked his way…

oh anon ur cooking here. i think this is what's pulling me out of my writing slump 🥴 (wade breaking the fourth wall, suggestive 16+)

the first time he noticed you, it wasn't even in your building complex, but rather the stairs to the subway station down the street. you were rushing up the steps while he, wade, laura and al were just about to enter. it was al who noticed you first, calling out your name and poking your side with her walking staff.

you shrieked, dropping one of the fabric rolls you had been carrying, a curse at the tip of your tongue before you realized who it was. "al," you sighed, a little relieved, when you saw her and wade, who was dressed in a "i love nyc" t-shirt.

logan, being the gentleman he was, picked up the roll you dropped, handing it back to you. it was then that you looked at him, or well, briefly glanced his way with a quick "thank you" before wade started fucking talking.

that son of a bitch.

he didn't even have the courtesy to introduce the two of you to each other.

it was obvious you were in a rush, lips in a tight smile as you nodded and tried to smile at wade telling you all about how they were about to "hit up" times square.

logan felt bad for you, but only a little bit. the longer you stayed to listen to wade's painful monologue, the more he could look at you. he was a little shameless about it, perhaps not the most gentlemanly thing he could've done, but god you were just a sight for sore eyes.

a pretty thing in a mini skirt despite the cool late september breeze that was starting to kick, white, lace and ruffled. delicate with tall brown leather boots. and a washed-out denim vest you wore as a top, two buttons undone, a little pink bow tied to the pocket. logan didn't know a lot about fashion, but he liked the way clothes looked on you.

and then you were gone, al kicking wade across the shin to shut him the hell up when she realized you were in a rush. she let you go, and you left, quickly trading numbers with laura and without saying much of a goodbye or another glance logan's way.

but he watched you go, watched the way your skirt moved with the wind too.

"yeah, look at it bounce. god, i am no better than any man. " wade hummed, leaning all his weight on logan's side. "i didn't peg you as a creep, honey badger. with the way you were undressing the reader with your eyes, i would've thought you were on a registered sex offender's list."

"shut the fuck up, wade."

logan could hear the way laura snorted, her and al continuing their way down the stairs.

wade held his hands up in surrender before logan could try anything (and by anything, he meant to cut him to pieces. wade can't deal with that right now, the blood would take ages to get off his white shirt). "i'm just saying, after living with us for a few months, i would've thought you'd met her by now."

logan raised his brow, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i mean, she literally lives across the hall." wade turned his head to the side, pointing his thumb at logan, "he can't possibly be this stupid, right? it's gotta be for the plot to build up tension or something."

from that day on, logan's started to notice you more. not that he was looking for you, he's not that big of a creep. but he's spotted you out the window some days, running down the sidewalk, always in a rush. then he was able to hear the way you slam your door shut when you leave in the mornings or when you get back home.

every single day, you're usually out and about. unless it's a sunday, those are the days you stay in your apartment, sewing and hanging out with blind old al and sometimes even fucking laura. turns out, you were the one who got laura all of those new clothes, made them for her.

jesus christ, how out of the loop was he?

you stood out like a sore thumb, always carrying something. whether it be magazines, sketchbooks, fabric rolls, or bags, you're always struggling to open your door when you get home, keys sometimes slipping from your grasp as you're trying to juggle everything.

one day, logan had come back from a run and spotted you in the hallway. well, he had heard you from floors below and was able to pick up the lingering scent of your perfume by the time he entered the lobby. it took him a bit of courage to walk up the few flights of stairs knowing he'd bump into you.

what the fuck was this?

he was a grown-ass man for god's sake. you had him overthinking and blushing at the mere thought of being in the same space again.

when he saw you in the hallway, you were on the phone, the device tucked between your ear and your shoulder, cursing under your breath as you tried to pick up your keys. you were wearing a black dress that day, a black hat and a big maroon scarf around your neck, "no, emily, don't fucking buy it in that colour. it looks like fucking vomit. i don't care what amy told you, she's basically colour blind-"

you stopped mid-sentence when logan appeared in front of you, grabbing the keys for you. "oh- uh. thanks."

"yeah, no problem."

he noticed your nails and glasses were dark red to match the scarf. lipstick too.

you didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, he could tell from the way you froze, as if you didn't know what was supposed to happen next. he had disrupted your daily pattern, everything in your life moving constantly and quickly but all of a sudden everything is slower. it left you breathless.

"you're logan, right?"

he furrowed his brows. he hadn't expected you to remember him, nevertheless, remember his name. "yeah."

"wade told me all about you," you said, and your eyes dropped from his face a little, then lower, a smirk not too different from a sly cat's. you were staring shamelessly, eyes following every part and curve of his body, the way his long-sleeve shirt clung to his skin with sweat. "you don't seem austrailan."

logan tried not to groan. the picture of wade's stupid face in his mind now that you've mentioned him. he hated that the two of you seemed close. "i'm canadian."

"aren't you full of surprises?" you laughed, a smooth, teasing sound, and finally pushed the keys into the nob, unlocking the door. you turned, lingering by the door as if you were about to invite him in, but then the voice from your phone was trying to get your attention and you nearly seemed disappointed. "i'll see you around, logan."

and you were gone again.

logan liked to see your different outfits every day, dawning a different style every time you walked out that door. it was like you could never settle for one style, but you managed to look so fucking good in everything and every colour you put on.

he could never get tired of it. never get tired of you.

you and your tiny bottoms that he swore were getting smaller and smaller every day, even though the city grew colder and the days shorter. you and your stupid phone calls that sometimes went on late at night. you and your clothes, every single one different from the last.

you and your sketches, the ones he had started to find loose pages on the floor of the small hallway between your apartments, pretty designs of lingerie on a model that looked a little bit too much like you for it to be a coincidence.

though you never made another attempt to talk to him, you knew he was watching you. but you never chased, your heels were too expensive for that. you were just trying to give him a reason to come on you.

to you**

to come to you.*

sorry. typo.

[nezuscribe]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞?

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader

part two of wanna be yours

summary: the aftermath of you and your husband's arranged marriage, but the better side of it. gojo satoru just loves you so much, that he's willing to bring down armies just for you

warnings: 18+ mdni, arranged marriage, very brief misunderstandings but they work it out, eating out (fem!reciving), fingering, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, he doesn’t pull out

word count: 6k

note: part two is finally done! and i think this is gonna be the last installment for this so don't ask for another part bc i will cry. as always, thank you to @jadeisthirsting for beta reading, she's the loml <3

jjk masterlist

there were a few things that changed after your night with satoru. 

as he promised, he got a bigger bed for his room. he promptly ordered all your things to be moved in with his, and it didn’t take long for all your belongings to melt with his. it was different from what you were used to, but you welcomed those nights when you’d curl into his chest, tracing patterns on his bare skin as his fingers ran up and down your back as he listened to you speak. 

mornings you would find him littering kisses all over your naked body, or you’d find him in between your legs, waking you up in his own unique (much appreciated) way. satoru was insatiable and you couldn’t find a bone in your body to deny him.

he smiled more, his eyes bright as he woke up to your cheek smushed into his pecs on other mornings, not wanting to wake you up as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead and pulled you closer to his body. 

everybody around you two talked in hushed tones whenever you’d pass by, obvious confusion laced in their tones, but somewhat glad to see the tension between you and your husband had simmered down. 

“he seems happier,” suguru told you one day as you leaned over the balcony, watching satoru spar with one of his men, your arms crossed over the railing as you glanced over at the man. 

“really?” you felt a faint smile tug at your cheeks as you tried to contain yourself. 

he hummed, his back to the railing, his legs crossed. he was dressed in his clans’ colors, a black tunic embroidered with red stitching covering his chest. he had come around more often ever since the feast, and he seemed more open to talk to you. 

the winds were picking up, the seasons were changing. it had been weeks since your night with him, but it felt like a lifetime had passed since then. satoru spent less time training and fighting, making as much time for you as he possibly could. you had your chair moved so that you could sit next to him during dinners, and in his free time he’d take you around the land on your horse, his face relaxed and gleaming whenever you’d turn around to look at him.

“well,” he turned to look over his shoulder, looking down at satoru, his white hair turning into a blur as he rhythmically and methodically moved, evading the wooden swords’ jabs with the agility only a seasoned fighter could have, “not right now. i think he’s trying to show off.” you snorted, rolling at your eyes at his statement (which was most likely the truth) and continued to watch him spar. sometimes you forgot of satoru’s rank amongst the other men, and watching him in this sort of state reminded you just how much he must have picked up on those years spent apart. 

“i’m happy for you two,” he said after a beat of silence passed, offering you a genuine smile as he said it. he was usually more stoic than your husband, never giving too much information off from his face unless it was absolutely necessary, and catching him in these moments would always startle you. 

“thank you,” you murmured, heat blossoming across your cheeks and neck as you kept your stare focused on your husband, not wanting to come off as too giddy. truth be told, you’ve never felt happier. 

you couldn’t remember the last time you woke up with a smile and slept with one on your face. every day it seemed that satoru was trying to win your love in different ways. he was so different from what you had seen from him the last few months, but just like the old satoru you remembered. he was teasing, always finding ways to make you laugh. 

“he told you he was going to be gone for a bit, yeah?” suguru readjusted his hair, making it so that it didn’t keep flying into his face. you nodded, holding tightly onto your clothes in hopes of preserving more heat. 

“yes,” you blew some hot air into your hands as you rubbed them together, “he said you’d be going with him.” 

“he’ll be needing as much help as he can get where he’s going,” suguru murmured, but didn’t try to hide his words as he tapped his fingers on his wrist. 

“what does that mean?” you balanced your elbows on the stone railing beneath you, brows furrowed as he shrugged nonchalantly.  

“he didn’t tell you what it was for?” if satoru was one who wasn’t above gossip then suguru was one who stirred it up. 

“he said it was a meeting with one of the eastern clans,” you say, rubbing yourself. your nose was freezing. suguru nodded, which made you feel a little more at ease. 

“did he tell you why?” you shook your head, indifferent as you looked back at your husband. he was shaking hands with the poor kid who went against him, barely breaking a sweat as he threw his sword to the side, a wide smile on his face as he looked up at you. 

“business,” you murmur, not quite giving him your full attention anymore because satoru was walking near where you were standing, craning his neck to look up at you as he grinned. 

“is he bothering you?” he called out, his chest moving up and down with labored breaths. he tried to make it seem like sparring didn’t take anything out on him and you nodded, smiling back at him. 

“i’m about to throw him off!” you called down, leaning on the railing as you gripped it tightly to ensure your balance and satoru gleamed, suguru scoffing at the interaction. 

“did you see me fighting?” he asked, and you wanted to chuckle at his words, the hopeful smile on his face as he wiped at his nose, the cold getting to him as well. 

“you fought very valiantly!” and suguru thinks that without your words and your praise, satoru would be a mess, not able to function. he wasn’t sure how he did it months without it, because he doesn’t seem to live without it.

his cheeks flush a cute pink, and you want to bottle up the way his smile grows.

“you two make me sick.” he groaned, pushing himself off the railing as he made his way inside, throwing you a playful wink as he shut the doors. the sun was beginning to set and you could see the bits of night peaking through the sky. 

you watched as satoru disappeared through the stairs, likely coming up to see you and you drummed your fingers on your arm as thoughts traveled through your mind. 

despite his playful tone, suguru’s words left a bitter taste on your tongue. even as satoru found you, pulling you close to him as he pressed a soft kiss to your lips you couldn’t get it out of your mind. he led you back inside, talking nonstop about what his men needed to improve on, but your mind began going blank.

---

dinner that night was just as it always was, but you still couldn’t find it in yourself to push past what you’d been told earlier. 

“i’m thinking of having a winter feast during the solstice,” satoru said, drinking his wine as his fingers played with yours, running down the skin of your palm as he absentmindedly pressed his thumb to the back of your hand. 

“sounds good,” you said, not quite listening as you pushed some potatoes around your plate. you should have gotten past this awkwardness to talk to him about these things, but that must have just been wishful thinking. 

“this year seems to be colder than the last, so i’ll ask shoko to see if she can bring back some furs from her clan.” he continued, oblivious to your state of being. 

“okay,” you blankly said, giving him

a short glance only to see him in his own world, plotting. 

“i’ll have one of the southern tribes see if they can bring any pomegranates in, and…” he trailed off, noticing your stare boring into the table. his fingers squeezed yours, bringing your attention to him. 

“are you alright?” he asked, and you quickly nodded, plastering on a false smile as you picked up your spoon, wringing your hand out of his. 

“mhm!” you scooped some vegetables into your mouth, spending an excessive amount of time chewing as you felt his eyes bore into the side of your face. 

he didn’t seem convinced in the slightest, a brow raising at your strange behavior. if you were trying to be funny you had an odd way of showing it. 

“do you feel sick?” he moved closer, his hands finding your forehead, pressing against your cheeks as he felt for your temperature. 

you gently pushed his hand away, holding his wrist as your feet moved quickly in anxiousness. 

this should be easier than you made it out to be. 

he looked worried, finger itching to feel you again despite your silent pleas. it was second nature for him to care about you. if he didn’t spend half the time hopelessly in love with you, he spent the other half hoping that you were doing alright. he wanted only the best for you, and vehemently tried to make up for the months he didn’t do so. 

“no, i feel fine. but,” you sighed, rubbing at your eyes as he patiently waited for you to find your words. you knew he wouldn’t lie to you, he didn’t have the ability to, but the way suguru spoke to you made it seem like there was something he wasn’t telling you, “why are you leaving? i feel as though,” you swallowed thickly, “as though i don’t fully know why.”

satoru sat back in his chair, his eyes squinting as he looked at you. it’s not like he didn’t like being asked things, but normally you didn’t seem this apprehensive about talking to him. he welcomed your queries, answering them to the best of his abilities, but he couldn’t remember the last time you seemed this nervous to talk to him about something. 

and he knew that he should have told you this before you asked, but he put it off. his fingers ran through his hair as he breathed deeply through his hair. 

“it’s with one of the eastern clans,” he started, taking another sip of his wind as his hands found yours again, as if he couldn’t breathe without having you near in some way, “do you remember that girl, the one from the feast?” 

despite him not being very specific, there was only one memorable girl from that feast. the one that he disappeared with four half an hour before he came back. your jaw clenched, nodding stiffly as you moved in your seat. he noticed your shift in emotions, trying to hide his own as he continued.

“i told you what she had tried to do, hm?” satoru seemed a bit awkward in his wording, and if it were in any other case it probably would have made you laugh. but you can only nod again, his words nothing new. he had told you about it after he spent the night with you, answering your questions as to why he had left with her. 

you could barely remember her name, but you distinctly recalled what satoru had said about her. how she had tried to come onto him, how he had forced her off. you hadn’t seen her around since, but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t fully stopped making her way into your mind at random times during the day.

“ i had her clan cut off from trading with ours.”

if you were expecting any response it definitely wasn’t that. 

“…what?” you gave a startled laugh, blinking as you tried to make sense of what he had just said. 

he shrugged as if it didn’t mean much, as if that was the least that was expected of him. 

“that’s why our import of sweet potatoes and eggplants has been lower than usual. but it’s alright, i’ve already ordered for the seeds to be planted in our garden. her father is seething at the moment, it’s why i have to go see them.” he cut away at some meat, glancing at you as a smile was forcing its way onto his lips. he kept it down, watching for your reaction. 

you swallowed thickly, a feeling growing in your chest as you glanced up at him, only to find him staring back at you, a little smile on his face. 

“she had the nerve to ask to be a concubine. i’m only hoping that in this meeting we’re able to get some more of their silk imports in, it shouldn’t take too long.” 

you couldn’t find any words to respond with, but could feel a smile growing on your own face. you were the more compassionate one out of the two of you but hearing this felt like a whole different experience. 

“that’s,” you tried to hide your giddy feelings, “new.” 

satoru rolled his eyes, hooking his hands underneath your chair to pull you closer to him if it was even possible. 

“and well deserved,” he commented, kissing your cheeks as you laughed softly, his lips soft against your skin as they found their way into the places he knew you loved most. 

you tried to push him away, feeling embarrassed at the guards that stood by the door, knowing they were able to see all of this happen before them. 

“suguru was telling me about it,” you felt his hands shift, lifting you over the armrest, his strength godly as he shifted you to sit on his lap, “i just thought that something else had come up.”

gojo hummed against your skin, your dinner promptly forgotten behind you as his nose nudged at your jaw, “yeah, like what?” he enjoyed hearing your shuddering breaths, the way your fingers automatically went to tangle themselves in his soft hair. 

“i-i don’t know,” you felt weak from being breathless from so little, and we’re glad your back was to the men behind you, “but definitely not that.” 

“it was the least i could do,” he said, “i wanted her banished but my advisors warned against it. said it would cause too much chaos,” his eyes flicked to yours, inviting, challenging, “as if i wouldn’t go to war for you.” 

you felt the air in your lungs squeeze out, your hands gripping his shoulders, anything to bring you back to reality as his tongue poked at his cheek, debating some things in his head.

“out,” he spoke, loudly now so that the guards could hear, his voice commanding and starkly different from how he talked to you, “get out.” 

while he liked showing you off, but there were things only meant for his eyes and his ears.

you could hear them shuffling to leave, looking over your shoulder as you giggled at their hurried movements, the door shutting behind them as they left you and satoru alone in the dining hall. 

you turned back to him, his eyes twinkling in the faint candlelight, his hands running across your back, up and down your arms as you shifted across his lap, your clog rubbing on his hard-on as he sucked in a deep breath. 

 “you’d go to war for me?” you teased, your sweet breath fanning across his lips as his tongue poked out, his eyes glazing over as he scoffed at your ridiculous question. his hands settled on your waist, your skirts hitching upwards. 

“i’d do anything for you,” he whispered against your lips, hovering above them as his eyes held yours, “if you told me you wanted me to ransack that clan dry i’d do it.” though he was a joking sort of person, you knew his words were nothing but the truth. 

if you wanted, he’d burn down villages for you. he’d make sure that when the stories were written, your name came first. he wanted the masses to know that he was yours and that his every waking moment was spent in your presence. 

satoru was sure the stars were shifting to accommodate for the two of you, and that it would only take years before he’d look up to see you there with him, splattered across the night sky.

“as much as i’d like you to,” you kissed his neck, enjoying the way he writhed beneath you, knowing that only you had the luxury of seeing him like this, “i wouldn’t want any spillage of blood to be traced back to me. i’d like for you to come home alive.” it’s not as if you doubted his talents, nor his strength, you doubted others. 

“i’ll always find my way back to you,” he promised, tilting his head to catch your lips in a searing kiss. 

it was slow, as if he wanted to savor every moment with you. satoru was cheeky, smiling whenever he’d pull slightly away to hear your sweet whines. your fingers tugged at his hair, warning him to stop. 

his tongue pushed its way into your mouth, and it didn’t take long before the kisses turned sloppy, spit staining your chin as you slowly move your body up and down on his. 

“you drive me to shambles,” he said against your lips, a train of spit connecting the two of you together, and it was sinful the way he looked right now. lips rosy and plump, his hair messy and his smile cocky. 

“me?” you ask slyly, coyly moving up and down his dick, enjoying the way he sucked in a breath through his teeth, his fingers digging into your ass as you tilt your head to the side, “really?” 

his hands hiked up your skirt so that it bushed around your thighs, his fingers pressing against your heat as he felt the dampness seeping through your underwear, his own victorious grin plastered on his face. 

“really,” he confirmed, grabbing a hold of your wrist as he guided it to his bulge, watching your eyes gloss over, your pupils widening at the feeling of him, never really getting used to just how big satoru was. 

his finger hicked your underwear to the side, letting it sink into your warm walls, your eyes rolling back, your slick staining his skin as he brought it out, tapping your lips as he motioned for you to open your mouth. 

you did, watching as he pushed his finger in, his eyes darkening at the way you closed your lips around him, sucking him hard as you tasted yourself on him, your hips shifting to ease your aching clit. 

“taste yourself? see why i can’t get enough of you?” he prompts and you slowly nod, not breaking eye contact with him as he feels pride swell in his chest, as well as something else a little bit lower. 

“see how i can’t get enough of you?” you ask, motioning towards his hand, and he chuckles darkly, drawing his finger out as he presses a short kiss to your lips, taunting you.

“be patient,” he murmured, fully enthralled with the way your tongue moved around him, his dick straining against his pants, painful as it wanted to be let free. you could feel him twitch beneath you, growing harder, if it was even possible. 

he couldn’t even be patient himself.

“then hurry up,” you whisper, biting his ear as he groans, pushing all of the silverware and cups out from behind you, lifting you up by your thighs as he made room for you on the table, setting you down as he settled in between your legs. 

he pushed down on your chest and you followed his movements, laying down on the table, your chest heaving up and down, the feeling something you’ve never experienced before. sex with satoru was unlike anything human, and he always left you with a taste of wanting more. 

your top fell loosely against your shoulder, almost undone from all of his ministrations, and some of the wine from his cup had spilled, soaking your white fabric red. it was hard to come out of this dining hall without hiding what had happened inside. 

his hand fisted the top that covered your chest, yanking it off with a swift motion, tearing it off of you in a split second. you didn’t have time to scold him for ruining yet another one of your shirts, taking in the way his breath came out in little puffs at the sight of your naked breasts. 

“‘toru!” you yelled, swatting his hands away as you groaned, looking at what was now rags, not knowing how you were going to be able to leave this dining hall with your dignity intact. 

“what?” he looked as if he truly had no idea why you’d be mad, and then looked at the remains of your top, sheepishly scratching at his jaw as he leaned down to peck at the corner of your lips, and you begrudgingly let him. 

“‘m sorry,” he whispered against your lips, but he didn’t really sound like it, “i’ll cover you in my robes, yeah?” you rolled your eyes, flicking at his forehead. he whined, back caught your hand, kissing just above your wrist as he winked at you. you could never stay mad at him for too long because he knew just what to do to make you forget about it.

“you owe me a new one, alongside the four other ones you’ve ruined so far,” you say, eyeing it with a hefty sigh. satoru nodded insistently, his hands wandering down your torso as he got himself distracted. his hands were so large, and you would never get tired of the way he looked at you.

“how ‘bout i make it up to you, hm?” and you didn’t have any restraint in you as you nodded slowly, knowing that you were the only person who could make him like this, the only person who could have the gojo satoru in such a vulnerable and loving way.

he began bunching up your skirt once again, sinking down to his knees as your back arched off of the table, using your elbow to stabilize yourself as your head tilted backward at the feeling of his fingers pushing past your walls. 

your underwear was thrown to the side, disregarded as his tongue poked at your entrance, his thumb flicking over your sensitive nub, knowing just the way to make you go crazy. he slurped up all you had to offer, the sounds too much for you to handle, cheek heating up. 

he took his time, wanting to make you feel every pleasurable feeling known to man as he ate you out. you would never get tired of the way he could reach that spongy spot inside of you that your fingers never could. 

“you taste like so fucking sweet,” satoru’s eyes found yours, glinting as his nose nudged at your clit. it was too much, the way he ate you like he had never tasted anything better. he hadn’t and he was sure that sin was below you. 

his other hand found your tits, palming them, squeezing at the flesh as he rubbed at your nipples, hardening against him as you whined, fisting the tablecloth beneath you as you panted, it was just so hard to get used to this. 

“f-fuck, ‘toru, please…” you could barely muster up any words, his thumb swiping at your clit in a delicious way, his tongue prodding at your walls. 

“please what?” he teased, enjoying the way he could make you unravel, the way that nobody else could hear the way you’d sing just for him. 

“faster, mhh, shit!” you liked the way he obediently listened to you, his tongue and fingers moving per your request, and you felt your stomach clenching, your release threatening to come at any moment.

it was embarrassing just how fast he could bring you to this sort of state, but he reveled in it. he knew what you liked and disliked, how to tease you to make you cry even louder for him. he was a master in everything he did, and he wasn’t one to fail. 

“who does this to you?” he asked, knowing he was fucking you dumb even without his cock. 

“y-you, you ‘toru,” you couldn’t look at him, everything hot as sweat dotted at your forehead, “only you.” 

a cheshire grin found its way onto his face. 

“come on, know you can do it,” he pushed you further, his fingers joining his tongue, and it was just too much, prodding at the place that made you see stars. he looked just as wrecked as you, with your own essence smeared all over his chin, mixing with his spit, but he couldn’t have had it any other way. 

“‘m ‘gonna…fuck, ‘toru, i’m ‘gonna come…” you breathed out, and it didn’t take long till you did. 

the feeling was unlike any other, your walls clamping around him, your release gushing out, your stomach clenched, and your back arched, spasming around his fingers. he didn’t stop until he was sure you had ridden out your orgasm, watching the beautiful way your tits moved up and down with your every breath, the way the light bounced off your skin. you were a heavenly being and nothing you told him could convince him otherwise. 

he slowly stood up, his hands finding purchase on your hips as he gently pulled you closer to the edge of the table, giving you some time to come back down to earth as he slowly tapped his fingers on the expanse of your naked skin.

“you good?” you groaned, hitting his chest lightly as he chuckled, his eyes softening as he looked more at you. he was so sure that the love he held in his chest was going to seep out that it made him worried, knowing that others could love you the same way, selfishly wanting you just to himself.

“you’re so annoying,” you say, rubbing at your face, eyeing the bulge in his pants, feeling your mouth salivate at the sight. 

“you love it though,” and you couldn’t even argue because you did. you loved all the little things about him, the things he hid away from the public eye and saved just for you. it reminded you that he was yours and you were his and nothing was ever going to change it. 

“i put up with it,” you say, watching him pout, his white hair all messy and his cheeks rosy. 

“you’re so mean,” he whined, but only kissed the tip of your nose as he said it. his swift fingers made use of unbuttoning the buttons of his pants, hooking a finger around them as he tugged it down, his cock springing free as it hit his chest. 

he was long, curving to the right. his dick was pretty, just like the rest of him, and you would never get tired of seeing it flushed red, leaking pre as he shuddered against the cold, biting air. his mushroomed tip was aching to push past your walls, and you obliged him, slowly moving so that your hands found him. 

he sucked in a breath as your fingers wrapped around his length, expertly moving up and down in a teasing manner, your thumb swiping at his head as his pre stained your skin. his chest was moving in a crazed pattern, as if his lungs weren’t working properly, and he watched as your hands moved up and down, up and down. 

“s-stop, i don’t want to,” he scrambled before he embarrassed himself and finished from just your hands, tugging your fingers away from his aching cock as you looked up at him through your lashes, knowing just what made him go crazy for you. 

“hurry up ‘toru, i need you sooo bad,” you whined, your voice laced with something that made him lose all sense of control, and he quickly nodded, his hands gripping your thighs as he tugged you closer to himself. 

it would have been easier if he had you perched on the table with your back to him, but he couldn’t risk not being able to see your face, the way your mouth opened and your eyes squeezed shut, so he lined himself up with your entrance instead, knowing this was the only way he could fuck you. 

his dick prodded at your entrance, his bulbous head pushing past your walls that were still tight, squeezing him as he slowly inched your forehead, the two of you moaning in unison at the snug fit. 

“shit, you’re so tight, how,” his lip caught between his teeth, and his eyes flickered over to yours, “how are you so tight?” his grip on your hips was bruising, but you welcomed the marks, loving the fact that when you woke up the two of you would carry each other on your skin.

“stop talking ‘toru,” your hands hooked around his neck, tugging him in closer as your lips slotted against his, your teeth clashing as your pussy fluttered against him, your noses rubbing against each other, “fuck me…please.” 

and he did, pushing all of himself in, and your head tipped backward at the sting, gripping onto his arms as he let you adjust to his size, his cock twitching in your heat, and his jaw clenched, refraining himself from moving just yet. 

when you gave him the nod to move he slowly inched out, his dick shining in the light, before he slammed himself back in, your cries filling the vast space as he began to fuck you the way he wanted, his lips finding your neck as you thrust your hips against his. 

it was always delirious when the two of you fucked, your bodies meeting at one point that drove each of you to your own euphoria. satoru tried to be slow and gentle, but after a bit, he couldn’t anymore, picking up his pace as his head kept hitting your g spot. 

“love you s’much ‘toru,” your fingers curled in his hair, your other hand scratching lines down his back as the squelching sound resonated around you, “f-fuck-” he cut you off with a chaste kiss, dropping his head to your breasts as he sucked at them, positioning himself in and out of you with all his strength. 

“i know, i know sweetheart,” he murmured against your spit soaked skin, rubbing gently at the marks he left, “i’m yours, all for you,” he promised, his thumb finding your clit as he swiped at it, enjoying the way you mewled for him to go faster. 

your eyes fall all over his naked skin, at the way sweat dots on both of your bodies, and the way satoru can’t contain his moans and whines when he sinks in and out of you. the sounds he makes are for you only, and you want to damn anybody who longs to hear them too. 

“you feel s’good,” you kiss at his chest, his tunic slipping down him as the buttons and knots become undone, your fingers tugging them down so you could have more area to kiss and suckle at, “s’big ‘toru.” 

he loves how your voice gets breathy, the way you can’t keep your hands to yourself and can barely formulate a thought. he fucks you like he hates you, but that’s only because he doesn’t know how else to show you just how much you mean to him. 

“yeah? this dick makes you dumb?” you nod helplessly, feeling like you were going to go insane with the way his veins dragged alongside your walls, at the way your pussy was molding to the shape of him. 

“yes!” you cried out, nails digging into his skin, and he encouraged you to leave more lines, knowing that once he had to take off his shirt for training and the men around his eyes the scratches on his back they’d know who left them. 

“are you ‘gonna come? come with me, know you want to,” his hips are shuttering as if he can barely keep his release at bay, “know you can sweetheart,” and you whine even louder, his thumb relentlessly attacking your clit as your legs wrap tightly around him, keep him from straying too far away from your body. 

“mhh fuck, ‘toru m’gonna, fuck…!” you felt your release come before you could even stop yourself, spasming around his dick as you wailed, creaming around his dick as the tablecloth bunched beneath you, the wine spilling everywhere as your husband came just seconds after you. 

you felt his hot release in you, your walls hugging him in as your eyes rolled back, white dotting your vision as he pumped himself inside of you, keeping his dick in for a little while longer. your orgasm was so powerful that you wondered if you were going to be able to walk after this, feel yourself pulse around nothing as satoru slowly pulled himself out of you, his cum seeping out and sticking to your doughy thighs. 

it was a mess; wine and cum everywhere, but your laughter slowly filled the heated room, laughing at the entire prospect of this. 

“what?” he nudged at your jaw, kissing your cheekbones as he smiled at the sound, “was that not to your liking?” 

you snorted, shaking your head as your legs dropped from his waist, leaning back on your hands as you looked around, taking in the mess as you heaved out a sigh, knowing that there definitely wasn’t any way to hide what you had done now. especially since you were sure that anybody within a twenty-foot radius could have heard you as well. 

“it was fine,” you teased, watching him huff in annoyance because the two of you knew that it was far from fine. 

“just fine?” he asked, scooping a finger into your pussy, watching the way your head fell onto his shoulder, smearing his cum around just for extra measure, chuckling to himself when he felt you lightly bite his skin. 

“you’re painfully full of yourself,” you comment, your skirt falling back down as it hid your fluttering pussy, making it seem as if he hadn’t just fucked you dumb seconds ago, and satoru tugged you closer to his chest, his hands sprawling across the naked expanse of your back. 

“only because i love you so much,” and he wasn’t lying, but you knew that his cockiness stemmed from himself. 

the two of you smiled, your rings shining and you looked out the window to see the moon up, a chill running through the curtains, ruffling them as it hit your skin and you shuddered. 

as if he suddenly remembered your top was ruined, now resembling cleaning rags, he shrugged off the robe that was resting on the back of his chair as he settled it across your chest, buttoning up the buttons for you as you let him work. 

it had some of his military rankings on it, a deep blue that resembled the clan's colors, and you instantly felt warmer in the wool. 

“‘toru?” you twirled some of his baby hairs around your fingers, your voice hoarse but soft. 

he looked up, feeling awestruck by the way you looked right now. he loved the glow you radiated after a round of him pounding into you, the way your skin was shining and you had a content look on your face, resonating deep within him.

“hm?” his thumb ran across your face, tracing your features as he did every night, committing them to memory. 

“come home safe,” you whispered, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you held his unoccupied hand in yours, your fingers cradling his larger ones, “don’t do anything stupid, please.” 

he went to make a joke but stopped himself when he saw your serious stare, his mouth opening and then shutting until he nodded, smiling carefully, holding heavy emotions as he gave you a smaller, more understanding nod.

“okay,” he murmured, but you shook your head, not satisfied with his answer. 

“promise me,” and he hated and loved the fact that he couldn’t deny you anything. 

“i promise,” he whispered against your lips, bringing you closer as his tongue swiped against yours, your lips swollen and plush, just the way he liked it. 

and he held true to his promise, returning only a week later with a promise of no sort of war between the eastern clan. but according to suguru, your husband had shed off his clothes when he had to fight one of their men, everybody around him, including the girl, had seen the scratches and bruises you had left for him, 

just as he intended.

taglist: @chieeeeeee, @yxnjvnnie, @ladytamayolover, @iheartlinds

[cregansdingdong]

So…

Cregan on a day going on a frenzy out of nowhere and full on fucking the brains out of his wife THE WHOLE DAYYYY, neglecting his duties while the other Lords call for him and he straight up threatens to kill anyone who dares interrupt him…on my knees rn🧎🏻‍♀️

Go off, your majesty👑🙇🏻‍♀️

NEGLECTING HIS DUTIES---CONGRATS CAUSE UR DEFO A MOTHER AFTER THAT WOOOOOOOOO ALRIGHT.

so. my brain is doing a think. a nice, slutty think.

Let me just start by clarifying that Cregan, above all else, respects his position just as the majority of his ancestors have done before him. He's very serious about being the Warden of the North and he really does his best to...behave himself. Sometimes though, he doesn't.

alright thats enough thinking its time to fuk. i sincerely apologize for what im about to unleash. may the odds be ever in your favor i guess lol

ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ.

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty. no SRSLY this one needs like twenty more nsfw warnings

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"You can take it.” He murmurs into the quiet of their chambers, eyes trained down where he’d connected to his wife for the third—no, maybe fourth time since they’d risen that day. He’d lost count, much like she had. It felt pointless to keep track anyway. All that mattered was that it felt good. Filling her deep, slow, teeth dug into her calf over his shoulder just to ground himself and remember where he was. The Lord of Winterfell was cunt-drunk beyond belief. 

Cregan woke that morning without the thought of his tasks for the day. No. None at all. His wife was sitting up in their marital bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, reaching over for her soft robe—Gods, he lost absolute control of himself, of his restraint. He saw the supple planes of her back, and that was all it took, really. He’d taken her on her stomach first, a satisfying, lazy fuck that he couldn’t hold himself from coming early. That didn’t mean he was done, by any means, just momentarily winded. His mouth worked just fine to bring her to peak.

Seeing his own seed dribble out of her pretty cunt was enough to make him hard all over again. He feasted on her for breakfast, smearing his come over her pearl and cleaning it off nice and clean. He loved the way she tasted when she released against his mouth—loved the way his own release tasted when mixed with her slick. Delving his tongue deep, hands gripping her fleshy backside as he was torn between lapping up his own seed from her or pushing it further in. Gods, it was obscene. That made him all the more feral to go again. Everything was so warm when he slipped himself back inside. Whatever possessed him that day was unknown to either of them.

It was frantic, breathy—short strokes that were brief but hard enough to make her eyes roll back. Cregan held himself up via the backboard, thankful more and more every day that he’d chosen the sturdiest design imaginable as he snapped his hips against her ass. His wife was a thorough mess, mewling inconsolably as the sensitivity from her last release was front and center. She came again as his cockhead hit that spot like a bullseye.

They took a respite, thankfully. Cregan had never felt himself so drained of seed before. But, back to where we were: "You can take it.” He murmurs into the quiet of their chambers, eyes trained down where he’d connected to his wife for the third—no, maybe fourth time since they’d risen that day. He’d lost count, much like she had. It felt pointless to keep track anyway. All that mattered was that it felt good. Filling her deep, slow, teeth dug into her calf over his shoulder just to ground himself and remember where he was. The Lord of Winterfell was cunt-drunk beyond belief.

This time, his thrusts were deliberate, keen, and languid. He was fucking her. Making love. Making heirs. Pushing his come as deep as it could go and satiating his urge to breed her until she was round with the litter of her Lord Wolf. She was on her back, by the edge of the bed, eyes locked on Cregan’s light eyes, her pupils equally as dilated as she watched him take his time with her. “You—have a meeting today.” Huh. He did.

“Don’t care.” He grunts, thumbs pushing into the back of her thighs. His brows were furrowed in concentration, only seeing the sweat gathering on her clavicle, the flush of her cheeks, the way her nails were digging into the sheets—the tunnel vision was going to make him bust. “You’re forgetting.” She moans, head tilting back. “Forgetting—mmmh! Forgetting your responsibility to your bannermen.” Cregan bit her calf harder at the mention of them. “I don’t care. I’ll slit the throat of any man who dares remove me from your perfect cunt, wife.” He rasps, now briefly recalling that he was supposed to attend first thing in the morning. Ah, well, too late now.

“You’d better fill me then, my Lord husband.” She giggles, delighted at the prospect of having him all to herself for the day. “If we’re going to spend the afternoon making pups, we’d better not disappoint them.” His eyes flick up at her face as he pauses his deep thrust, squeezing her thighs in his large hands. A rumble of a sultry laugh emits from his chest. “Your womb will take all that I give it, woman. I’ll make sure of that.”

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[yameoto]

any more thoughts on puppy art.. please. only if u want to though haha !! (please?)

ohh u guys love your darling little lapdog huh?

LAPDOG ART DONALDSON! fem!reader

▸ a drooler. nosing his head between your legs n he's already salivating. he's so cute like that. face smushed between your thighs, panting as spit pools in his mouth, nose twitching like a cute little bunny at the scent of your arousal. taking the trim of your panties between his teeth, dragging it down inch by inch. quivering because he just wants to rip them off but the last time he did that he tore your nice lacy lingerie and u didnt touch him for a week. when he eats you out he laps at your cunt like an eager puppy. comes away absolutely glistening. dripping, even. your juices n his saliva smearing his cheeks, his nose, dribbling down his chin.

▸ bigggg on humping. obviously. when you're too busy to give him attention he'll just shuffle over onto your lap and just start rubbing up against you. he's ridden out the best orgasms that way; creaming in his already-sodden boxers as slick gets all over ur thigh. he likes to do it when you're working or when you're on a call (you always punish him best that way). oftentimes you'll wake up at night to slick sheets—finding him grindin up against you, moaning and whimpering. a sleepy, boneless mess on your knee. he'll already have gotten himself off thrice before he tries to wakes you, just to be safe (you might take it away from him, after all). ▸ teething.... grown ass man teething... gnawing on your shoulder to stop himself from crying out when you let him fuck you.. nibbling your bottom lip red n raw when you kiss.. slobbering all over your mouth. during sex if you tease him he'll start to chew anxiously at the end of ur bra strap, the hem of your shorts, your panties if you keep him waiting too long. sometimes randomly takes your hand by the wrist and takes a fake chomp out of it (affectionate).

▸ not beyond jus being your lil stress relief toy. coming back home and he's been so good for you. he won his match. he's cooked dinner. but you don't have time for any of that. "oh, baby, don't give me that look. cock out, now." and he makes a little mewling noise and immediately his shorts are a crumpled puddle on the floor—raging boner popping out, all swollen n red n leaking bc hes been waiting for you for hours. ▸ sighing, telling him to sit and so he does. legs spreading wide on the couch, blinking up at u in earnest neediness. and when you sink onto his cock he makes this insane, visceral whining noise—back arcing off the seat. ▸ cockwarmer? more like cuntwarmer. you tell him don't move and don't cum. an impossible ask. he's pawing at your back, whimpering when your only response is to lean back heavier, sinking your full weight down on his poor, poor cock. n it feels soso good but he only lasts two minutes on a good day! let alone when you're switching the tv on and settling back into him like he's part of the couch. occasionally your hips jump, walls pulsing tight, choking his sensitive dick. you're grinding down into his lap and he's twitching inside of u and hot tears are prickling his eyes—fingers digging into your thighs, trembling.

▸ time ticking on.. the coil of heat in his gut winding tighter n tighter.. art's cheeks are flushed and hes wetting the back of your shirt with his silent tears. he persists, though, because he's good. he's gonna be a good boy for you. and it works! for a time, when you seem like you've almost forgotten your pussy is strangling his cock and you're only rolling your hips occasionally, sending warm thrums of pleasure through him. lulling him into a false sense of security.

▸ until all of a sudden you decide to be mean and for whatever reason you lift your hips before slamming them back down again, and his sharp gasp and slurred mewls perfectly cue the geyser that erupts from his slit.

▸ not even letting him cum inside you.. sliding off his spurting cock thats blowing cum like a volcano. hot, sticky strings arcing in the air and splattering all over the carpet, the couch cushions. his eyes glazing over, all glassy n sparkly as he crumples back in the couch, blubbering tearful apologies as his cock leaks like a faucet, staining the poor, new pillows.

▸ adores aftercare. or just your comfort in general. please rest your hand against his cheek and let him sigh and melt and nuzzle into the palm of your hand like you're taking the weight of the world off his shoulders. tug gently on his hair. scratch his scalp. let him curl up on your lap and pat him and coo sweet nothings in his ear. simple things, like "sweet baby, did so good today." or "tired puppy. took mommy so well."

▸ "fuck— m'sorry. m'sorry, m'sorry—" "hey, shh, darling. aw, don't cry. mommy's got you. how bout you curl up on momma's lap, kay?" "..mkay."

[staryuee]

WHAT THEY DO WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE!

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread, dainsleif/pantalone may be ooc (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . just cute habits, actions etc that they do, whether intentionally or not, after being struck with cupid’s arrow.

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . jean, diluc, zhongli, xiao, nilou, xianyun, dehya, wanderer, arlecchino, pantalone, dainsleif

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . scrolling through the genshin tag makes me wanna die sometimes…i’m trying to do investigative work and i have to quickly scroll past the same smutty language like it’s booktok torture + also i’ve been playing baldurs gate 3 for the past several days and i think i’ve developed a problem…

G. JEAN — 琴

ʚ jean is very subtle in the way she loves someone, she doesn’t want to keep it secret per se, but her love is always almost adjacent to a puppy crush; something that seems fleeting but in the long run returns harder and hits oh so much worse.

ʚ she can’t necessarily abuse her powers, and she wouldn’t dare dream of messing up the order she so carefully has managed to maintain, so the way she tries to convey her feelings across isn’t too brash or loud.

ʚ simple things like letting her hands brush against yours when she passes you documents, allowing you to visit her office whenever you please even if it’s to just sprawl down at a nearby couch and read a book you found in the library while meandering, and even letting you join her on her daily walks across the courtyard.

ʚ during windblume festivals she won’t hesitate to strike up a seemingly harmless and friendly conversation, all the while sneaking a flower into your hair that resembles the feelings you stir up inside her fuzzy heart.

ʚ jean is overall quite an awkward person when it comes to anything related to romantic or plantoic ties, she’s a bit of a people pleaser in that way where she prefers to assume everyone’s a friend before an enemy… or in this case, “interested”.

ʚ with backup and sought guidance from her good friends lisa and kaeya, she’ll try a myriad of tactics to get you to notice her; a little shoulder massage there, a heartfelt sticky note placed on your workstation there, inviting you to classic candlelit dinners etc.

ʚ yes, believe me, she even tried the cartoonish “rose bit between teeth and uncomfortably arched side lean on a wall” approach before deciding it’s much better to listen to herself than the flamboyant duo.

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

ʚ diluc is the actual epitome of a gentleman. his love is so pure and genuine you can’t help but flower press every petal from the various bouquet he personally delivers to you on special occasions (anything from you completing a particularly hard or draining mission to doing something you thought you’d suck at).

ʚ his coat is also yours now. it’s like a six sense at this point to notice when you’re shivering out in the cold winds, and it’s become even more of a routine for him to simply shed that fluffy coat of his and drape it appropriately over your shoulders, trying to maintain a comfortable distance between you two as he adjusts it both to ease your tension and assure the pounding of his heart goes unheard.

ʚ diluc doesn’t enjoy using his riches to woo someone, it’s uncouth and just shows a desperation unbecoming of someone who dates to marry. if he wants to know you’re in it for the long haul, he’ll be much more sensitive and thoughtful when picking out gifts for you, each them have to hold some level of significance in your life.

ʚ the whole fiasco with his poor maids and some sneaky, perverse stalkers and diluc’s flaming great sword certainly applies to you as well; he’ll quietly ensure your safety in the night, helping you walk home with his arm hooked under yours, and in broad daylight he won’t hesitate to swing that polished wolf’s gravestone of his against any onlookers.

ʚ diluc is extremely closed off but deeply sentimental, he can so easily find himself rambling about his childhood stories to you; anything from how he used to collect seashells with kaeya to bring back to their dad, or how him and jean used to let baby barbara braid their hair together while babysitting…to things that are slightly more troublesome and heart wrenching to even mutter.

ʚ he may be less vocal than most in terms of feelings, but that doesn’t mean he won’t commit to it if he’s in love with someone. diluc isn’t the slightest bit dumb, he understand in order to get his feelings across he needs to do more than take random days off to spend time with you, he needs to at least hint it in a way that clearly gets his intentions across.

ʚ believe me, whenever you come by to dawn winery per notice, everyone raises a brow at you with curious smirks and gazes as diluc nearly stumbles on his words to get the phrase: “you look lovely tonight” out.

ZHONGLI — 钟离

ʚ he has up to thousands years of romantic customs under his belt, he understands the vague signs and ways to further communicate how much he adores you.

ʚ … that would be the case in its full if not for the fact for the first thousand couple years of his life he wasn’t busy maiming other gods and shedding blood. safe to say, his memories of mortal “courting” is slightly, if not absolutely, a massive, weaving and overlapping trail of various centuries and cultures he’s been accustomed to; anything ranging from the days when khaenri’ah was still in its prime to nowadays with newfound slang.

ʚ he’ll recite the most beautifully heartfelt and awfully sincere poem all the while you’re fighting your life in a haunted house (he’s heard this activity is helpful to get couples closer to one another, and given the fact you’re clinging on for dear life at the edge of his coat, he assumes he’s on the right track!)

ʚ he wants to impress you while also maintaining an air of genuineness to his actions, and while that does sometimes end in awkward situations where he ends up wearing regal attire to what’s supposed to be a casual dinner at wangmin, his heart remains completely pure in its endeavours.

ʚ oh, let’s not forget this man is quite literally a dragon too!

ʚ sometimes he can forget you don’t have the same complexion as him and will proudly present you some sort of glimmering relic from his hoard, forgetting that certain materials that existed back in the day were deadly and or toxic for mortals to touch let alone possess.

ʚ with a little nudge in the right direction, he’ll quickly learn everything there is to know for how to properly handle your precious heart. whatever you’d like, you may have — if it’s within his reach, that is. but it doesn’t mean he’ll stop at what’s available, no, just how much he’s willing to risk for you.

XIAO — 魈

ʚ he’s already embarrassed and awkward enough with accepting the fact he likes you, so accepting the fact that he loves you had left him with a lengthy exorcism spree down in some forgotten areas in liyue (it didn’t help).

ʚ in all honestly, not much changes; both because he’s rather emotionally constipated but also because he’s more than sure he’s loved you for longer than he seems to currently acknowledge.

ʚ letters that came only on special occasions like your birthday or his became much more frequent and a lot less poetic, it felt more like he was writing about his thoughts at the time, a little akin to how you’ve made him feel less constricted and much more free; he can finally have the courage to step out of his comfort zone.

ʚ all those small acts of love he used to subtly express (i.e gifting you two crystaflies, personally inviting you to come hang out, etc) he manages to double, he can’t have you thinking his intentions are the same as before. no, they’re much stronger now.

ʚ his guard softens around you regardless, but when you randomly fall asleep on his shoulder on your weekly visits at wangshu inn, instead of taking you to one of the rooms, he’ll sit there and allow you to rest, and if he’s assured you’re not awake to ridicule him, maybe, just maybe…he’ll sneakily loop his arm around your waist.

ʚ even just the thought of you makes him spiral into daydreaming, sitting atop a tree and swinging his leg back and forth carelessly as he stares up at the night to await for a new light, knowing full well the only sun he wants to see is you…just imagining his hands holding your waist like they did so long ago makes him shiver (hopefully this time he’ll get to do it when you’re not falling, and instead are falling for him)

NILOU — 妮露

ʚ nilou is basically a disney princess, if you see her singing to random birds that come watch her performances, everyone in the grand bazaar already knows it’s because you’ll be in the crowd that night.

ʚ each step within her routines are done with the little more passion, if that even is possible given her character, all because she imagines that pride and hopeful heart eyes in your eyes as all the attention is on her.

ʚ sometimes this fixation can lead to dumb mistakes on stage which bring her to sulking away with a hand on her forehead dabbing away at the sweat, but even the mention of your name as you pass by several sumeru streets is enough for her to brighten, do a quick wardrobe switch and run off to tackle you within her embrace.

ʚ nilou is not loud, but definitely not subtle. the exact representation of how she feels when you come to encourage her at her lowest (though those days are few). you’re there for her in ways you don’t imagine, and that alone is enough for her to daze away into the night as she cuddles her pillow, legs wrapped around it and all, and begins thinking about the what ifs of your relationship.

ʚ sometimes it’s a little comedic the way she speaks about you, it almost sounds like she’s reminiscing about a fictional book character with how much she takes pride in whatever little thing you do. no one tires of seeing her footsteps lightly tap against the ground in circles as she gushes about how when you complimented her the other day, you touched her cheek seemingly subconsciously ∩^ω^∩

XIANYUN — 闲云

ʚ she’s a little embarrassed at just how obvious she can be sometimes, it doesn’t help the fact her own children keep using this love of hers to their advantage.

ʚ she keeps nagging them about not taking care of themselves (she’s all too keen about their health and whereabouts now that she dwells alongside liyuean people) and yet just the mention of your name has her slightly stuttering in a ditzy trance as she hooks her glasses back up her nose bridge.

ʚ without hesitance, she’ll show you a photo album she has of all those close to her; would you like to see the drawing little ganyu made when she just barely had her horns? or perhaps the polearm young shenhe broke when she miscalculated her own strength in training?

ʚ her family is her pride and joy, it’s only natural for her to want you to be part of it even if it’s something as silly as raking through photos of a chubby ganyu eating the stem of a flower or teeny shenhe napping on a tree.

ʚ a peaceful life mingling with mortals has left her with ample time to enjoy the trivialities of life, and yet she finds her mind all too quickly wandering to you; had you been taking care of yourself? were you feeling lonely? did you need her to make something for you?

ʚ a secretive worry wart that quickly becomes that ancient adetpus she used to pride herself as soon as your delicate hands accidentally brush against hers; suddenly she’s perked up, chest heaven up high with a confident hand on her shoulder: you wouldn’t even think that flurry of pink hues gushing across her cheeks was real if not for the light providing evidence.

DEHYA — 迪希雅

ʚ oh she’s absolutely ecstatic!!

ʚ there’s genuinely nothing better than love in her eyes, especially just having the ability to love and trust someone fully when you haven’t been able to do so for a plethora of years.

ʚ doesn’t try to hide it, like at all, if anything she makes it rather obvious with the way she constantly pulls you closer as if you were already an item, arms constantly clinging onto you and your sides or her hands messing up your hair as you greet her.

ʚ she’ll take you anywhere you ask, free of charge of course (just promise to smile…and maybe if you’re up for it give her a kiss on the cheek, that’s sure to be enough reimbursement).

ʚ she’s already quite a confident and outwardly friendly person (if the price is right that is) but when in your presence? what’s wrong with just a little bit of showing off…

ʚ dehya needs you to see the best side of her!! maybe then you’ll finally give in and realise that her constantly asking for you to come join her on her travels and commissions isn’t brought out of mere timed coincidence

WANDERER — 流浪者

ʚ i saw that a few people were upset and confused by wanderer’s sudden switch up into being more kind/friendly, but i think we all forget what kind of person he was before his betrayals.

ʚ he loves wholeheartedly, if he adores something it consumes him in a warm pit of mushy domesticity — he doesn’t hate love or being kind, he hates the way it makes him vulnerable and the way it reminds him of the way he used to be.

ʚ that also means he’ll completely ignore you, or, try his best to rather.

ʚ wanderer knows within his heart that he completely years for you, just the accidental slip of his gaze meeting yours makes his brain go haywire, sending volts of electricity down his spine — you make him feel so alive.

ʚ it’s terrifying to return to a person you once were especially now with the knowledge of how being the way you were lead to some sort of tragedy, he’s managed to build up these walls so high and here you were, sneaking in through cracks he didn’t even know he had.

ʚ and he both loves it and hates it; loves the fact he can still feel, but hates how he’s so easily susceptible.

ʚ loving you turns into self-loathing and brooding, his feet pacing up and down every street at night to clear his muddled head. small distractions like taking strolls in meadows or sleeping up in the vines of trees lead to just thoughts of you and you alone.

ʚ wanderer refuses to be overly friendly and buddy-buddy with you even if he’s aware that if you decided to just one day hold him sincerely he’d burst into tears, but he can compromise with being less cutthroat.

ʚ “shut the fuck up” turns into him just rolling his eyes at you as you ramble (he soaks up any piece of information he can and locks it away), items you gift him now are more apparent in their value as he yells at those who dare question the dumb aranara pin you bought him and placed sneakily on his hat…oh and he gives you hat privileges.

ʚ it’s raining? …get close to him so you don’t begin complaining about the way the rain feels on your skin.

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

ʚ she starts treating you less like an asset in her “contact if in need of assistance” roster and more like a friend — of course, she maintains that distance between you two, but she lets you wriggle around in her heart to see if you manage to fit.

ʚ chances are, you will — unknowingly she’d grown to love you in ways that may have even gone unnoticed by her given how natural they were; inviting you to random gatherings when the whim arises, pulling your chair out for you when out for brunch, or even tucking away strands of hair and twirling it around playfully.

ʚ arlecchino’s love isn’t something immediate or expected, she’s a woman who keeps every card close to her chest and her children even closer, you have to prove to her that you’re worth it, in a way that doesn’t necessarily mean spilling blood but more so answers the question: do you care, and are you willing to accept her blinding love?

ʚ it’s like a shepherd dog with a lost lamb, but that little sheep is just you, and she’s a wolf in need of a muse.

ʚ cute tea parties aren’t uncommon with the two of you, she’ll happily let you indulge yourself in treats as she leans back with scorching tea in her hands while memorising every curve of your lips as you chew and swallow, she loves watching the way your eyes crinkle when you smile and the little sway from side to side you occasionally do as an expression of joy.

ʚ once arlecchino notices that she’s began treating you as another authority figure in the house of hearth, she’ll reach and collar you gently, intertwining her dark, cursed hand into your flowery one.

PANTALONE — 潘塔罗涅

ʚ one of the most attractive qualities a man can have is knowing when to shut the fuck up and to slide his card over during a dinner — both such things pantalone can do effortlessly, especially when it comes to you.

ʚ arlecchino claims that: “he allows his actions to be governed by the vengeance and hatred locked in the depths of his heart.” something that definitely translates into his love affairs in more than obsessive manners.

ʚ don’t be afraid of the massive hauls of clothing and sparkling jewellery galore that are being trudged in by multiple men, darling, it’s just a menial souvenir from his latest travels and newfound connections that he thought you might enjoy ^^

ʚ while his grandeur usually stems from his deep hearted desire to overthrow the imbalance between immortals and mortals, rest assured the luxury he provides you purely stems from his desire to make you his.

ʚ whether that entails you being his pet for him to seek comfort from on the occasion or a genuine connection where he can comfortably hold you at night purely depends on you.

ʚ oh, you’ll let him chew your ear off about his recent expedition and extravagant plan? consider your rent payed for the next few months and a few kisses on your cheek that certainly aren’t actually part of the snezhnayan custom (let him indulge in those little cravings or else he’ll undoubtedly be petty).

DAINSLEIF — 戴因斯雷布

ʚ has a breakdown.

ʚ a little dramatic, but honestly if his entire life wasn’t a disgusting mess already, you’ve come to make it worse. fate is deliberately mean to brooding blondes it seems, given the fact he’s now stuck pacing around back and forth on a trail of dead abyss mages as he rereads a letter you’ve sent him weeks ago.

ʚ everything you give to him, everything you say, do, write, whatever, he remembers implicitly. each word you say is engraved into him as if they were important artefacts regardless of how pointless and mundane.

ʚ it can honestly get a little…scary at times? you’ll mention liking something once and all of a sudden you find it within your possession at least a few weeks later.

ʚ dainsleif doesn’t have enough time to wallow in the glory of mushy, all consuming love despite desperately wanting to imagine how your hand would feel caressing down past each of his scars, but what he can do is protect you, and to him that’s a greater blessing than intimacy he knows will end eventually.

ʚ a big tough man who would honestly fold the moment you call him any variation of a pet name, specifically with the word “mine/my” at the beginning — hey, it’s nice knowing you mean something to someone the point they view you as inseparable.

ʚ the timings at which he comes to aid you are all too convenient and believe me he’ll try his best to downplay it as coincidence, all the while he’s breathing heavily both from the face your eyes are scanning his so closely and the fact he used up so much energy to merely make a portal to sneak into your space.

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[criminalamnesia]

Stay

warnings: enemies to friends, hinted enemies to lovers, Tyler’s sister!reader, mean!scott, bickering, very real tornado danger, mentions of a car crash and physical injuries, not proofread, f!reader

summary: the three time you see storm par’s one and only scott, including the one in which he saves your life.

author’s note: look at me, finally writing something again! I’ve been extremely busy and, truthfully, in a writers slump. I started writing this after seeing twisters, and I just got the motivation to come back and finish it. I’ve been obsessed with this man since that movie, and good lord do we need more fics of him. anyways, enjoy! (also, for my traitor fans— I haven’t forgotten about you! I hope to work on the next part soon!)

the first time you’d seen scott, you’d wanted to break his jaw, and you hadn't even gotten his name.

“get lost on the way to the hillbilly convention?”

his tone is snarky, his eyes full of disdain as he watched you slide out of tyler’s truck.

your eyes had widened, your spine straightening as you registered his unprovoked hostility.

“the fuck is your problem?” you ask, eyes narrowing as you come back to your senses. you look him up and down, huffing a laugh at his clothes.

“you look like you’re going to a fuckin’ business meeting.” you say, coming to a stop in front of him. your cowboy boots dig into the dirt, and the sun beats down on your face.

perfect day for storm chasing, as your brother had said. darkening clouds rolled in the distance, and the wind was steadily picking up. according to lilly's drone data and tyler's instincts, your first chase would occur sometime within the next few hours.

you had been away at college when tyler’s tornado-chasing YouTube channel took off. you’d always loved the thrill of being close to the storms, but even when you came home to visit during summers, tyler refused to let you tag along.

until now, that is. now that you’ve graduated with a degree in meteorology, just like him. he had always accused you of wanting to follow in his footsteps.

“don’t mind storm par over there,” comes your brother’s drawl as he appears beside you, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “the stick up his ass seems to have been lodged a little deeper recently. you’ll get used to it,” tyler grins, barking a laugh at the brunette's scowl.

"haven't seen you before," another man moves to stand beside the brunette. he's also wearing storm par gear, and you watch as him and the taller man share an unreadable glance.

"she's new," tyler responds for you, his wide grin still present as he acknowledges the shorter man with the tip of his hat.

"i'd run while you can, sweetheart," the taller one says, a look of pity in his eyes as he looks back to you. "fucking him isn't worth dying over."

you stare at the man for a moment before bursting into laughter. the storm par pair's eyes both widen, their stares moving from your hysterics, to tyler's rolled eyes, and then to each other.

"you two are supposed to be scientists, huh? the guys who are gonna 'tame tornadoes?'" you throw the last two words in air quotes as your laughter subsides.

the shorter of the two men nods, while the taller opens his mouth once more. "that's right. while you morons are out trying to get yourselves killed, we'll be busy doing shit that actually matters."

"right, right," you nod along, glee shining in your eyes as you stare at the taller one. "you must be so smart, then. where'd you get your degree?"

"MIT," he says smugly, popping the gum in his mouth.

"MIT, wow," you whistle, your eyes finding your brother's. tyler just shakes his head, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.

"you got a degree from MIT, and you're too stupid to tell that he-" you jab a finger towards tyler. "is my fucking brother?"

the man's smug grin instantly falls as his eyes scan you, then tyler, and then fall back onto you. tyler steps forward, smacking a hand on the man's shoulder with a laugh.

"meet my little sister, storm par. may not have gotten a degree from MIT," he says, tipping his cowboy hat to you. you mime tipping an invisible hat back at him. "but she seems to be a hell of a lot smarter than you."

the second time you see scott, you still don't learn his name.

"jesus christ, this thing is huge!" you yelp as tyler swerves the truck back onto the dirt road. he scowls as the storm par truck ahead of him jerks back and forth on the path, blocking his approach.

"how's the wind lookin'?" he asks, his words clipped as his hands grip the wheel tighter. wheat fields ripple on both sides of the road, an ocean of tan as the sky continues to darken.

"pickin' back up," you tell him, glancing down at the laptop in your lap. it was displaying real-time data of the atmospheric conditions. the software had cost a pretty penny, but had been worth it. plus, it had been more than covered by tyler's t-shirt sales. cheesy or not, tyler’s face on a shirt was worth his weight in gold to his followers.

tyler groans as the white truck in front of him cuts him off again.

"ty, just go around!" you yell at him, your eyes widening as you stare out of the passenger side window. the clouds overhead were beginning to swirl.

"i'm tryin' to drive nice," he tells you through gritted teeth. "don't wanna make you sick-" he begins, but you roll your eyes and reach over, jerking the wheel. the car swerves off the road and into the ditch beside it, and tyler scrambles to avoid hitting a wire fence as he swats at your hand.

"what the fuck?!" he yells at you, his eyes cutting to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"stop tryin' to baby me!" you tell him. "show these storm par pricks what we're made of."

tyler falls silent, clearly debating his next move. you're about to grab the wheel again when his foot slams down on the gas and the truck lurches forward. you cheer, throwing a fist in the air as you laugh with glee.

"just don't tell mom!" he says to you, laughing along.

as the truck speeds forwards, tyler lets off the gas just enough to keep speed with the storm par truck. you lean past him to get a look into the cab, and there's the brunette you'd had the displeasure of meeting a few days ago.

you can see his scowl from here, and your grin is wide as you hold your middle finger up, waving it around to make sure he couldn't miss it. his scowl deepens, and before he can even think of responding to the gesture, tyler hits the gas again.

"what was that for?" your brother asks as you lean back into you seat.

you shrug. "just havin' fun."

the third time you see scott, he saves your life.

it's a week after the middle-finger incident. although storm par and your brother's wranglers have been following the same storms, you haven't had the pleasure of bothering the tall brunette, much less seeing him. you’d caught glimpses, but he seemed to be keeping his distance. you supposed he’d finally grown tired of your constant teasing.

you don't know why you find yourself caring. he's an asshole. an asshole who hates you, your brother, and everything the two of you stand for. who constantly underestimates and looks down on you.

and yet you miss his scowl and the unmistakable pop of his bubblegum.

"hey, you okay over there?" boone asks as he leans over the center console, his head peeking out between the two front seats. you know the question is directed at you, as boone is watching you like a hawk.

"yeah, fine," you shrug, your eyebrows furrowed as you lean down, getting closer to the screen of your laptop.

"ty, turn the music down for a sec," you tell him, and he listens without protest. a rare occurrence, but now wasn't the time for bickering.

what had first appeared to be a measly EF1 had begun to grow. it wasn't dying out, and things were starting to get scarily real as moisture kept feeding into the funnel miles ahead of you.

"this thing isn't stopping," you tell the two men. "you need to tell the rv to turn around. hell, we should turn around."

boone shakes his head, leaning further into your space. his eyes scan your computer screen, and although he's learned a lot from tyler, he still doesn't see what you see.

"nah, it's gonna be fine. ty said it's gonna die out anyways, right? we just need to get in it before it does."

"boone," you warn, turning in your seat to face him. "love you, but shut the fuck up right now." you reach out a hand and grip tyler's arm.

"ty, I mean it."

rain starts pelting the windshield. you can hear the wind howling outside of the truck, and you shudder as hail begins to pound against metal.

tyler mumbles something under his breath as he kicks the windshield wipers up to maximum speed. "you sure?" he finally says.

he turns to look at you as you nod, and those precious seconds are all it takes for the world to spin on its axis.

a fence post slams through the windshield as rain and hail continue to obscure the world around you. you scream and tyler jerks the wheel out of instinct. the truck turns sharply, running off the road. your stomach drops as the truck drops and rises again- your own personal rollercoaster from hell.

"tyler!" you yell, gripping the straps of the harness holding you in.

"workin' on it!" he responds, jerking the wheel the other way. the truck rights itself back on the road, and you close your eyes as adrenaline rushes through your veins.

fuck, the others-

"boone, tell the others to turn around now!" you yell at him, and he's nodding frantically from his seat in the back, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie in the floor.

"so much for an EF1!" tyler says, and although his tone sounds easy, his face betrays him. you can see the glimpse of fear in his eyes. it mirrors your own.

"yeah, ri-" you begin, but the sentence never fully forms.

you black out as another car slams into the passenger side of the truck.

"c'mon, get up!"

everything feels fuzzy. your head is pounding, and your ears are ringing. pain shoots through your body, engulfing every inch of skin. you think something has to be broken, judging from the numbness you feel on the right side of your body.

"get up!"

your eyes begin to crack open, but your vision is blurry. someone is a few feet in front of you, but you can't make out who it is.

"for fuck's sake-" the voice growls, and you can just hear the faint crunching of glass before your hearing comes back in full force.

the wind is an unbearable howl, and the rain and hail pounding down around you make hearing your own thoughts almost impossible-

your thoughts. what had happened? one second, you're driving and then-

fuck. tyler. boone. where were they?

your eyes shoot open, your body jerking against the harness still keeping you strapped to the leather passenger seat.

you look to your left- to the driver's side- but tyler isn't there. you try to turn you head to see into the back, but a sharp pain in your neck quickly stops you.

"tyler?!" you yell, but your voice is carried off by the wind. you can't even hear your own words.

"boone?!"

"they're fine!" a voice calls to you, and your gaze shoots back to the driver's side. you can see a man crouching by the driver's now blown-out window— which is upside down.

you were upside down. the truck had rolled with the impact of whatever had hit you. everything comes back with devastating clarity, and even though adrenaline pumps through your veins, the pain is beginning to become unbearable.

“can you move?” the voice says. you can’t tell who it is through the spots in your vision and the sheets of rain still coming down.

“I-” you start, pushing your chest against the harness. “I think so.”

“good,” you recognize it as a man’s voice. “then hurry the fuck up and get out!”

under different circumstances, you would’ve scoffed at the order, but now wasn’t the time for defiance. your life was literally on the line, and if you didn’t get to shelter before the tornado engulfed you—

well, you didn’t want to think about that.

you force your brain to gather itself, directing your thoughts toward moving your aching limbs. your left arm is the only one that responds, coming to fumble with the metal buckles of the harness.

the first one unclasps and you swear you could cry from relief.

“any day now!” the man calls, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. you reach your left hand across your torso, working at the clasp on your right side.

“im trying!” you call back. once you get it undone, your arms fall downward as gravity claims them. you groan in pain as your right arm shifts. something is definitely broken, but you can’t afford to give into the pain at the moment.

you reach for the lap belt, tugging at it with a shaking hand. the wind continues to howl around you, and you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes. hopelessness begins to eat away at you as you try and try again to undo the lap belt, to no avail.

“it’s stuck!” you call out, hoping the man can hear you. “I can’t get out!”

your breathing is picking up. your chest feels tight, and the feeling you still have in your left hand ebbs as you begin to panic.

you don’t want to die. you know that. it scares you shitless.

but you don’t want anyone else to die, either.

you’re stuck. whoever is outside of the truck isn’t. he should run while he can—

“hold on!” you’re jarred from your thoughts as a figure begins to crawl through the hole left by the blown-out window, and that’s when you register your savior.

it’s him, the brunette from storm par. the man who belittled you, who rolled his eyes at every sentence you spoke, and who you somehow found yourself missing.

he’s crawling into the cab, his arms no doubt suffering cuts from the shattered glass littering his path. “I’ve got you,” he calls to you, and when your eyes meet his, there’s no look of disdain. there’s thinly veiled terror.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him, and you can’t tell if the wetness on your face is from your tears or the rain that’s now blowing sideways into the destroyed truck.

“shut the fuck up,” he tells you, groaning as he slices his forearm on a jagged piece of metal.

“im serious,” you reply, your left hand still fumbling with the belt restraining you. “I can’t feel my right side—”

“will you shut up? please?” he heaves out, his face inches from yours now as he reaches for the lap belt.

you fall silent, but not because you’re heeding his demands. no, you’re too busy examining his face. he’s never been this close to you, and you’re taking in every little detail before death comes to sweep you up.

can’t blame a girl for wanting to gawk at a handsome man in her final minutes, can you?

“stop staring at me,” he grits out, his forearm flexing as he tugs at the lap belt. something has the fabric trapped, and although he’s freeing it inch by inch, you’re not sure if—

the belt gives, and his arms leave your lap to cushion your fall, protecting your head from slamming into the metal below you.

he doesn’t say anything, but you watch as his gaze flits over your right side. stone cold as ever, his expression gives nothing away regarding your physical state. you can’t bring yourself to look down.

“im gonna pull you out, okay?” he says, and you absently nod your head. the pain is heavier now— harder to push away. your vision swims as he hooks his arms under yours and shuffles back on his knees.

agony spreads through your thoughts as the numbness gives way to excruciating pain. your eyelids flutter, but the man doesn’t stop. he grunts as he pulls you forward again, slowly but surely removing you from the truck.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him again, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to stifle a scream of pain. “im not going to be able to walk. I’ll just slow you down—”

“jesus christ, you don’t listen, do you? im not leaving you here to die.”

he finally makes his way out of the wreckage, pulling you with him. once you’re free of the ruined truck, he stands on shaky legs— fighting to maintain balance as the wind whips across his figure. he reaches down, scooping you up in his bloody arms, and starts to run as best he can. the rain is so thick you can’t even see a foot in front of you, let alone where he’s taking you.

lightning cracks overhead, followed by thunder so loud it shakes your shattered bones. your head tilts up to the sky, and you watch in horror at what was once an EF1 tornado races toward you. it’s got to be an EF4 by now— maybe even a 5 based off its sheer size.

“drop me!” you screech, your working hand clutching the soaked fabric of his storm par shirt.

if he hears you, he pays you no mind as he continues to struggle against the wind.

with your eyes focused on the impending doom behind you, you don’t even realize when he reaches his destination. he jumps down into a deep ditch, and you hear him groan as his feet hit the ground. he must be hurt, too.

“is she alright?” a voice calls, and your eyes widen as boone comes into view, a large cut across his forehead that looks like it definitely needs stitches.

“not the time!” the storm par man shouts, ducking behind your friend. your eyes catch boone’s over his shoulder, and you give your fellow storm chaser a weak wink. boone’s lips crack into a wide smile, even amidst this horrible storm.

the brunette carrying you falls to his knees, laying your back against muddied dirt. he refuses to let you go, his arms cradling you against his chest as he shelters you with his own body. there’s nothing to hold onto except for him, and you know if the tornado gets any closer, you’ll both be goners.

you close your eyes tightly, welcoming your end despite your overwhelming fear— but it never comes.

you pry your eyes open as the sounds of wind and rain finally begin to subside. the body above yours still clutches you tightly.

“are we alive?” your voice comes out a whisper. your left hand flexes against the man’s chest, and sure enough, it meets a solid body. he’s not an imagination— he’s real. you’re still here.

“yes,” his chest rumbles with the words, and his arms slowly snake out from under you as he sits back on his haunches. his eyes are locked on yours, his icy blues unreadable as he watches your face.

you don’t say anything for a moment. and then,

“you’re the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

his eyes widen in surprise, and his stern facade cracks for the first time— at least, that you’ve seen— and he chuckles.

the bubble surrounding you two quickly pops as tyler’s voice meets your ears. you turn your head and there he is— your brother, running towards you with relief written all over his face.

“oh, thank god,” he says, throwing himself to his knees and scooping you up in a hug. you hiss in pain and he pulls back, his hands on your shoulders as he looks you up and down with a grimace.

“you took the worst of it. those storm par pricks—” his eyes cut to your savior, who is still sitting nearby, watching the two of you. “hit us. you and boone were knocked out, and you were stuck, so I got him first and was coming back, but—”

“ty,” you interrupt, your left hand landing atop one of his. “it’s okay. im okay. we’re okay.”

tyler takes a deep breath and nods, his eyes flitting back down your body, focusing on your right leg. you follow his gaze, grimacing at the unnatural twist of the limb. no wonder it had gone numb.

“I’ve had worse,” you tell him, taking notice of your limp, lacerated right arm.

“now’s not the time to play hero,” your brother chastises, standing up before reaching down and picking you up. your eyes meet your savior’s once more. he’s standing now, too, his arms crossed over his chest as he matches your gaze.

“guess we owe you a thanks, clipboard. and you owe us a new truck.” tyler says, to which the brunette rolls his eyes.

“ty,” you roll your eyes, too, as you keep your gaze locked with the brunette’s. “ignore my brother. thank you for saving my life….” you trail off, realizing, truly realizing for the first time that you don’t know his name.

“scott.” he tells you. you nod.

“thank you, scott.”

he nods back, turning his back to you as he starts to limp back to the road your vehicles had been abandoned at. you doubted they would still be there.

just as you’re about to look away from his retreating form, he glances over his shoulder and gives you a true, sweetly small, smile.

maybe storm par isn’t so bad after all.

[katsu28]

slow down, be here

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: after a long, frustrating day of training, a night in with you is just what lando needs to leave it all in his rearview mirror (2.4k)

warnings: teensy but of swearing, reader is in university but major is unspecified, lando being a certified menace

a/n: i was gonna post this sometime next week but the lando girlies (aka me) need some comfort after today's shitshow. may or may not have been entirely inspired by that video of lando in the white singlet. that look (however fleeting) did things to me okay

You’re sitting at the kitchen counter when you hear Lando’s key in the door, one leg drawn up towards your chest, the other swinging aimlessly as you revise your notes last minute. 

Well, more specifically, when you hear him drop his keys on the floor in search of the correct one right before he inserts it into the lock. You’ve loved him and lived with him long enough to know it’s something he does everyday without fail. Whether it’s because he’s got clumsy hands or he’s Pavloved himself into dropping them at the same spot, you don’t think too much about it. The key drop signals that Lando is home. 

What also signals that he’s home is the way he lets out the strangest sound you’ve ever heard as he lets the door swing shut behind him after he’s let himself in—something between a sigh and a whine mixed with a guttural groan. 

“In here!” You call, taking the cap of your pen out from between your teeth. It only takes a few seconds until Lando emerges from the hallway, socked feet dragging himself towards where you’re sitting with a soft smile aimed at his rumpled state. “Hi, love.” 

He plops down on the stool next to you unceremoniously, hooking his foot under the bar of yours to tug you as close as possible to him on instinct. His chin finds the dip between your neck and shoulder to nestle into, and the deflating sigh he lets out once he’s situated himself to his liking sends a shiver through you. “Hi.” He mumbles, voice muffled. 

“Heard you’ve had quite a day.” You stroke a hand over his curls, smoothing them away from his forehead gently. Oscar had shot you a heads up text a little bit before Lando had arrived, saying that Lando might seem a bit put out when he got home. Something about a handful of tests not going the way they wanted, strategies not working out the way they planned. It sounds like enough to drive anyone crazy, but Lando is the type of person to take things especially hard. 

Lando lets out a vague sound of acknowledgement. You can tell he’s exhausted and frustrated, and you know exactly what he needs to wind down after days like these. “I’ll order takeaway for dinner. You go shower. It’ll probably be here by the time you finish up.” 

He gives a more content sigh this time, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. The tips of his hair tickle your cheek as he does so. “You’re a gem, darling.” 

“Tell me something I don’t know.” You tease, pushing him away playfully. He’s smiling big at you when you meet his gaze, something beyond fondness behind his eyes despite the tiredness as he does. “What?” 

“I love you.” 

“Love you too, stinky. Now go. Wash up before I make an executive decision and order sushi.” 

That gets your boyfriend scrambling to his feet fast, aiming a horrified look your way as he books it down the hallway. “You monster!” 

You chuckle quietly, busying yourself with finding Lando’s favorite Italian spot on your delivery app. Soon enough, the food is ordered and all you have to do now is wait.  

Lando reemerges from the bedroom just as you pull open the front door to grab the food from the delivery person. He figures you’ve got it handled by the way you’re chatting nicely with them, so he busies himself with drinks. 

There’s a bottle on top of the fridge that looks vaguely fancy, and though Lando doesn’t know much about wine, Charles had gifted him the bottle a while ago for his birthday. He trusts Charles’ taste. 

He does his best to sound out the French on the label and shrugs, snagging two wine glasses to go along with it. By the time he finishes pouring a generous amount in each glass, you’ve just closed the door, joining him in the kitchen with a massive bag of food. His brows fly into his hairline at the sight. 

You twist your lips to the side in thought, wrinkling your nose as you study the bulging paper bag. “I might’ve ordered too much.” 

“Good thing I always rise to the occasion.” 

You glance up at him, setting it down on the counter in favor of sidling over to where he is, not even fighting the smitten grin stretching your lips as you maneuver yourself between him and the marble. 

His curls are damp, messily towel ruffled and starting to frizz as they air dry. He already looks more at ease, comfier than ever in a pair of loose black sweatpants and a white singlet. You make a mental note to remind him to wear white more. It makes his tan skin glow, and it makes you not want to take your eyes off him. 

Your fingers skate along the exposed skin of his chest, stopping once to push into those dimples in his cheeks that you love so much before moving up to link around the back of his neck. His hands find their way to your waist at the same time, sliding coyly under the hem of your shirt to rest on your bare skin. 

In one fell swoop, you’re up on the counter, Lando nudging his way between your knees. He kisses you languidly, like he has all the time in the world to explore your mouth; long, slow kisses mixed in with brief pecks until you’re all but melting against him. He’s familiar and solid under your touch, all flexing muscle and warm skin as your hands run along his arms. 

After a while, Lando’s focus shifts to trailing open mouthed kisses down the side of your neck. On instinct, you tilt your head to give him more space to work and he takes it gladly, focusing on that one spot just below your ear that he knows for a fact works on you every time. 

You sigh appreciatively at the pressure of his lips against your skin, the way his teeth nip at that sweet spot but his tongue sneaks out to soothe the sting just as quick. 

Your fingers dig into his biceps as he continues his venture, but when he starts kissing along your shoulder, you squeeze a little harder. As much as you want to continue this, you remember you’ve got food waiting for both of you. He stops immediately, perfect lips pouted, eyes wide when he comes back up to gauge your reaction. 

“Eat first, kiss later.” You explain, peeling him off you (albeit a bit reluctantly) before hopping off the countertop. He whines something unintelligible as you unload the food, but as soon as you push a container of his favorite pasta towards him, he seems to forget his disappointment. 

The silence as you eat is comfortable, both of you seemingly more hungry than you thought you were as the food and wine begin to disappear. All the while, the space between the two of you grows smaller and smaller, until your elbows start to bump each other with each bite you take. 

You’ve mastered the art of enjoying each other’s company without having to say a word. 

“Were you revising earlier? When I came home?” He asks after a while, jabbing his fork in the direction of your notes. A few strands of pasta splatter onto the counter with the action and you tsk, nudging him with your foot. The last thing you want is sauce all over your papers. 

“Yeah, I was. Just some final practicing, see if anything needs tweaking before I have to present my thesis.” 

“I’m sure it’s perfect. You’ve been working on it for ages.” 

You spear a chunk of tomato with your fork, dragging it around in the sauce aimlessly. “I dunno. Everything is there, but it still feels like something’s missing.” 

“Present it to me.” 

“What?” 

“Pretend I’m the university board, or whatever, and present it to me. Maybe you’ll figure out what’s missing if you act like it’s the real thing.” 

“Really? You’d do that for me?” 

Lando scoffs, looking offended. “Baby, I’d do anything for you. Go on, do your little scholar thing for me. I’ll be the best fake board you’ve ever seen.” You gnaw on your lip, unsure. The idea seems silly, but it’ll probably work. “C’mon, bub. You’ve got a genius brain up there in that pretty head of yours, let me see it in action.” 

“Okay. Okay, fine, but you can’t be mean! You have to be nice, ‘cause I’m already freaking the fuck out about having to present next week and I don’t think I can deal with—” 

“First of all, I’m never mean to you. Second of all, get the fuck up there before I take my offer back.” 

You stick your tongue out at Lando whilst you grab your papers at the other end of the counter, feigning swatting him with them as he bounces his way over to the couch. He settles in right smack dab on the middle cushion, grabbing a pillow to hug while you do a quick once over of everything. Then you’re ready. 

You stumble through your introduction a little bit, but the words start flowing a few sentences into the body of your research—days, weeks, months of work having burned them straight into your brain. The longer you talk, the more comfortable you become, which gives you the confidence to set aside your notes for once. Part of you feels like you’re about to clam up and forget everything any second now, but you don’t. You forge on like you were born to. 

All that comes to a halt when you hasten a glance over at Lando, who’s staring at you without a thought behind those gorgeous eyes of his, smiling goofily at you. 

“Lando!” You whine, pouting. “Have you even heard a word I’ve said?” 

Lando blinks a few times like he’s coming back down to Earth, letting a sheepish grin creep its way across his face. “Not really.” 

“Seriously?” 

“I’m sorry! You just look really pretty when you talk about things you’re passionate about. It’s hard to focus on words when I look at you.” 

Well, you can’t exactly be mad at him when he’s sweet like that. Besides, you didn’t think he’d understand half of what you were saying anyways, and you’ve found the answer to your problems. Nothing was missing. Lando was right, you’re fully prepared for your thesis presentation. You just needed to get your nerves out of the way. 

“Worst fake board ever.” You huff. 

“But I just said you look pretty!” 

You prop a hand on your hip. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Norris.” 

“Oh yeah? Nowhere, really?” He rises from his seat, creeping towards you with that glint in his eyes you know far too well. You know what he’s about to do, and you’re about ready to make a run for it. 

He bridges the gap between the two of you faster than you think possible, catching you around the waist right before you can make your great escape down the hallway, hoisting you off your feet with ease despite your wriggling around like a fish out of water, and hauling you over to the couch. He tosses you over the back of it just as easily, following suit before you can scramble away. 

Realistically, you should've anticipated the whip fast reflexes of a professional racing driver. Having a faster reaction time than the average person is part of the job description. 

“Lando, no!!!” You squeal, already breaking into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. 

“Maybe flattery won’t get me anywhere, but I know what might!” He pins you down against the cushions with your knees clamped between his own as he digs his fingers into your sides viciously, ignoring your pleas in favor of grinning wickedly. 

“I give up! I give up, please—” You gasp, squirming under his relentless torture. One of his hands comes up to pin both your wrists down easily, probably so you don't punch him in the face trying to escape. (You’ve done it once before, purely by accident, but Lando’s never let you forget it.) 

“Say that you love me.” 

“You already know I do!” 

“Wanna hear you say it.” He insists, jabbing you in the side threateningly. 

You shake your head frantically. You’re near tears at this point, stomach hurting from laughing so much. There’s no point in dragging it out any longer, especially when sweet, sweet freedom is as easy as telling the love of your life that you love him. “I love you!” 

“What was that?” He tilts his head, brows raising expectantly. 

“I love you, Lando Norris.” You repeat, as steady as you can despite your breathlessness. That seems to satisfy him. 

He gives it up entirely, wedging himself between you and the back of the couch, making himself comfortable as you try to catch your breath. You roll over onto your side so you’re facing him, allowing him more space to nuzzle against you. “You’re a dickhead.” 

“I’m your dickhead, and you love me.” He replies smugly, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His arms worm their way underneath you and link up behind your back, legs tangling with yours. At this point, you’re not sure where you end and he begins, which is just the way Lando always likes it. 

“Against my better nature, I do.” You sigh, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. He hums sleepily, exhaling in deep comfort. “I’m sorry you had a rough go of it today.”

“S’fine. Nothing you’ve got to be sorry about. You’ve already made it better.” He mumbles. He already sounds like he's about to drift off.

“D’you want to talk about it?” 

Lando lifts his head to look up at you, blinking slowly. He offers you a small smile. “Not really. Just wanna lay here with you and forget about it all.” 

“Okay.” You say softly. 

You might not be able to help him with everything in life, but this, you can do. You thread one hand through his hair, smoothing through his curls in that one way you know he loves. Your other hand comes up around his back, fingers scratching a gentle path up and down his spine. 

If Lando was a cat, he’d be purring right now. 

Instead he opts for an appreciative groan, pushing his nose back into the warm nook he’d created. His lips press against your skin—once, twice, a third time for good measure. “Thank you.” 

Whether he’s thanking you for scratching his back or for just being here for him on the days he feels like he’s not at his best, you’re not sure, but either way you give him a tight squeeze and another kiss in lieu of a response. 

You’ll do anything if it means making sure he knows you’ve always got him. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

[moonstruckme]

I love your roomate!james. I was wondering if you could do one where shy!reader is sick and she doesn’t tell james bc she’s used to taking care of herself but he’s adamant about taking care of her. 🥺🖤

Thank you lovely!

cw: implied nausea and vomiting

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.6k words

James worries he’s scared you off. 

He thought you’d been having a good time the other night, hanging out with his friends and then teasing each other while he battled you for cleanup duties after. He’d certainly had a good time. Watching you smile more readily as you got comfortable, feeling your soft form tucked up against his on the couch, it had made his whole body feel light and fizzy, but now James wonders if the easy, familiar energy of the night had made him too bold. There had been a moment, just before you’d gone to bed, where you’d seemed to stumble, defaulting back to the awkward, self-conscious way of speaking you’d had before you got to know each other. 

James might not have thought anything of it—you still get shy sometimes, he can never figure out what causes it—except you’ve been very obviously avoiding him ever since. That next day, you went to work and then disappeared into your room straight after you got home. He told himself he was being paranoid. But yesterday, you seemingly had the day off, and every time you needed to emerge from your room James heard you dash down the stairs and back up as if your bedroom was the only safe zone in the apartment. 

He hears you doing it again now, the soft click of your door unlatching before quiet footsteps start down the stairs. If Sirius were here, they’d probably make a game out of timing you, but James estimates it’s less than a minute before you start back up again. He wishes he could tell you not to hurry yourself; he has no intent of cornering you in your own home, even if he does want to patch things up. 

Then something falls on the stairs with a loud thud, followed by a sharp gasp just outside James’ room, and all thoughts of giving you your space are quickly abandoned. It was a valiant effort. 

“Shit,” he says as soon as he opens the door. He crouches beside you, taking your elbow in his hand, cushioning it from the cruel edge of the step, “Did you hurt yourself?” 

You must have had a mean fall. You’re completely crumpled on the stairs, one of your legs curled under you and one outstretched behind you as though it’s slipped back. Both of your elbows are braced underneath your body, keeping your face from smacking into the corner of the stair. James is willing to bet that big sound he’d heard was your knee hitting the step below you as you tripped. 

“Fuck,” you whine, pulling an entire loaf of bread from beneath your other elbow. The middle has been completely crushed, smashed between your forearm and the edge of a step. You look genuinely distraught about it. 

“Did you hurt your knee?” James frets, fighting the urge to haul you up off the stairs so he can look you over properly. He does take your other elbow in hand, using a firm grip to encourage rather than haul. You get more or less upright. 

“I’m okay.” You sound a bit odd, though he supposes you could be winded by the fall. “Thanks, sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” James can’t help it if a bit of teasing makes its way into his voice. This is something the two of you always do, you overapologizing and him making fun of you for it. “It seems like if anyone ought to be apologizing, it should be the stairs.” 

Your mouth tips up slightly. “Solid point,” you concede. 

The load in James’ chest lightens at your willingness to fall back into a casual repartee. He rubs the point of your elbow distractedly. “Wanna tell me why you’re taking an entire loaf of bread to your room?” he asks, grinning. “Do you have a secret stash of sandwich-making supplies in there?”

He feels goosebumps erupt on the side of your arm, and he does his best to soothe those, too. It must be too cold in here for you. “No,” you say quietly.

“Mm. I thought we were past this, angel. Come downstairs, I’ve still got leftover pasta in the fridge.”  

He starts to lead you down, but before he’s made it two steps you say, “No, thank you.” 

“Oh, come off it.” James shoots you another easy grin, hoping to loosen you up. “Don’t be a martyr. I’m all for carbs, but bread by itself will hardly sustain you.” 

“I don’t have much choice.” You shrug, and your shoulders stay up higher than they had been. You seem embarrassed. He waits, intrigued. “It’s sort of the only thing I can keep down at the moment.” 

It takes a blink for James to understand. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“Not very.” Your voice is softer than soft, swallowed up by the nerves James thought he’d earned an exemption from but nonetheless can’t hold against you in this state. 

He can see it, now. The way you’re holding yourself, like you could curl up on the floor at any given moment. Your complexion is flushed and your eyes slightly unfocused, glazed. 

He presses the back of his hand to your forehead. 

“Oh, sweetheart.” It comes out more caring than he’d ever meant for it to, but James is too worried about you to dwell much upon that. You bat his hand away weakly, but he just moves them both to your cheeks, feeling himself frown. “You’re burning up, love. Why didn’t you say?” 

“Not much to say.” You move away from his touch, backing towards your room. James pursues you, hand hovering near your elbow because you really do look like you could pass out. "It's a stomach bug. It'll pass."

“I could have been helping you if I knew. I just thought you were avoiding me,” he admits. You look so sorry he’s quick to smooth things over with a smile. “Do you need me to get you anything from the store?”

“I already went.” You slump onto your bed before seeming to realize he’s still behind you, your brows coming down. “I’ve got everything I need, but thanks.” 

“You went to the store like this?” James is aghast. “You should be resting! How high is your fever?” 

“Dunno.” You seem to give up uncharacteristically quickly on getting him to leave, sighing and sinking back against a propped-up pillow. “I don’t have a thermometer.” 

“You don’t?” He’s more frazzled by the second, every way in which you’re not being properly taken care of piling onto the last. It seems a miracle you’re still alive. 

You look suspicious. “Do you?” 

Shit. He grins sheepishly. “No...” 

But that doesn’t change the fact that you should, for some reason. People like James are allowed to coast through the world unprepared because responsible ones like you always have the things they need. 

He feels your face again. This time, you let him. Your breath fans warm over his wrist, those fever-glazed eyes drooping slightly. 

“Your hand is cold,” you say through a sigh. 

“I think you’re just hot,” James mutters, but that doesn’t stop him from stroking his thumb over your cheek, just once. Your lashes flutter closed, and his heart does an impressive flip in his chest. 

“Have you had paracetamol?” he asks you. 

You hum. James sweeps his thumb over your cheek again, hoping to rouse you, but it only seems to worsen your drowsiness. Your head actually lolls into his touch. 

“Is that a yes?” 

“Mhm, yeah,” you say without opening your eyes. “You need to stop doing that, m’gonna fall asleep.” 

“You should be sleeping,” he says softly. It’s impossible to keep the fondness from his voice. “I’m gonna get you a cold flannel, okay?” 

Your eyelids crack open. “I don’t need you to take care of me,” you say, voice nearly slurring with sleepiness. “I’ve always done fine, by myself.” 

“You never neglect to remind me.” James slips his hand from beneath your face, going to the bathroom between your bedrooms. “I don’t mind helping, though. You don’t always have to do everything on your own, what are roommates for?” 

You make a quiet, breathy sound he suspects might be a laugh. “None of my other roommates were ever as nice to me as you are. I think you’re taking things beyond the requirements of the job.” 

James thinks so, too. But still. Regardless of the complicated feelings he’s starting to have for you, you’ve always deserved to be treated with care. 

“You mean to tell me,” he says, wringing out the flannel and going back to your room, “that if you were this poorly, none of your previous roommates would have offered to help?” 

Your eyes are open more fully now. You watch him as he lays the flannel on your forehead, smoothing away a couple of baby hairs before they can get trapped underneath, with an odd expression on your face. 

“I handle my own problems,” you say softly. 

James’ thumb is still stroking the baby hairs at your temple. He can’t get it to stop. 

“Maybe your problems could be my problems, too,” he says. The lightness of his tone is automatic, but it serves as no representation of the great and weighty feeling in his chest. He realizes his breathing has synced to yours. Quiet inhales and exhales in your quiet apartment. 

Your eyes slip closed again. “Why?” you murmur. 

James doesn’t have an answer for that. Not one he’s ready to think about. The lines of your face smooth out as you relax. More evidence of frowns than smiles, but he likes to think he’s made progress on the little creases fanning out from the corners of your eyes since he’s moved in. He feels a pang of triumph any time they make an appearance, little rays of sunshine on a wholly lovely face. 

Because he’s your roommate. Because whether you’re ready to admit it or not, he’s your friend. Because he cares about you. 

In the end, James doesn’t have to come up with an answer. You’re already asleep. 

[theonottsbxtch]

PRIVATE | LN4

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

fc: random girls on pintrest and isabel larosa

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thank you london and thank you to my beloved

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appartment in monaco

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

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

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

But here, it was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

landonorris

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enjoyed the final show of the break, time for austin

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appartment in monaco

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you more.”

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haters gunna hate, anyway check out my new song x

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[valsverse]

— general dating hc's

pairing: percy jackson, annabeth chase, leo valdez, piper mclean, hazel levesque, jason grace, frank zhang (respectively) x gn!reader

word count: 3.0k part two

percy jackson

• underwater kisses!! all the time!! being a son of poseidon has its benefits. the whole experience is just magical fr. it's like being in a whole different world, where nothing else matters except for the two of you. the sensation of your lips touching, your bodies intertwined, and the sound of your breathing mixing with the water is simply unforgettable. the way your hands hold onto each other, the way your eyes lock, and the way your heart beats as one, it's a feeling that can't be replicated anywhere else.

• percy 100% teaches you how to skate. the first chance he gets, he'll lead you onto the smooth, concrete surface of the skate park with the intent of teaching you!!

he patiently guides you, holding your hands and rolling you along while walking beside you. he teaches you how to shift your weight, how to balance, and how to stop. and every time you stumble, he makes a huge show of catching you in his arms LMAO. like, it's not that serious, percy.

whenever he's skating alone, he can't help but think of you. :(( the way your hair sways in the wind, the sound of your laughter, and the warmth of your hand in his. he would often skate in circles, lost in thought, imagining you by his side. <33 (all the other skaters think he looks like a fool, but he doesn't care.)

• now don't tell me you two do not have matching jewelry, because you DO. he learns a lot about your style and preferences, (he knows if you look better in gold or silver) and the pretty necklaces and stuff are just a bonus!!

he wears a necklace with several charms all the time, since it was a gift from you! some of the charms include an ocean charm and a tiny silver skateboard that dangles from the delicate chain. whenever he misses you, he would reach up and touch the necklace, feeling the smooth metal under his fingers, and smile. <33

• whenever you explain things to percy, he nods his head in agreement, but you notice his gaze flickering towards your lips ever so often. you don't know what he's thinking, but his expression provides a pretty obvious hint as to what may be on his mind.

• growing up as a child of one of the big three can certainly take its toll on anyone, even percy. after a long day of training and preventing new campers from capsizing the canoes while racing with the naiads, all he wants is to melt into your embrace.

he sneaks into your cabin with you as soon as possible, laying down on your bed, a deep sigh escaping his lips and he stretches his neck from side to side, relishing in the brief moment of peace. his arms are outstretched, inviting you to join him, as he longs for the comfort and safety of your embrace.

it's clear that being in your presence has a calming effect on him, reassuring him that everything is going to be alright. <33

annabeth chase

• annabeth has a penchant for discovering new things to learn and become deeply invested in, and she talks to you about her newest interests all the time. when you take the time to listen to her ramblings about her current passions, she gets so excited!!

sometimes, you spend hours in the library researching the concepts and terminology she speaks of, just so that you can engage in a meaningful conversation with her instead of just nodding along. the effort is well worth it to see her reaction; the way her face lights up as she smiles, leaning in to give you a big kiss on the cheek as a reward!!

• but sometimes annabeth rambles way too much. like, wayyyy too much. i'm talking hours on end. while her voice is soothing and you enjoy lying in her arms while she speaks, it can be a lot at times.

and annabeth only stops talking when she's finished gushing. unless you kiss her first.

although she tries to act like your affection doesn't work on her, complaining with phrases like, "why did you do that," or "you didn't let me finish." but her tone clearly softens. her eyes crinkling at the corners, and soon enough her facade breaks and she can no longer hold back a smile. <33

• you guys still use pinky promises. it doesn't matter if she personally thinks it's trivial, she does it for your sake because she values your belief in it. and if anyone dares to make fun of it, she'd be glaring daggers at them the entire day. if looks could kill, they'd be dead.

(and after you two interlock pinkies she kisses the palm of your hand to seal the deal.)

• annabeth isn't big on PDA, but she definitely steals kisses when people aren't looking.

• annabeth love, love, LOVES reading to you!! especially when there's nobody around and it's just the two of you, your head on her lap as she reads aloud about the wonders of Richardsonian Romanesque style architecture... whatever that is. (but she makes it sound interesting so you don't care.)

• overall 10/10, what a queen.

leo valdez

• he's your portable heater fr. leo keeps you warm by holding you close. it's particularly convenient when you're nestled on his lap or resting against his chest.

• this man can COOK. he mainly cooks food from his heritage because it's a way for him to connect to his roots, but if you ask him to make a particular dish for you, he'll do it, no questions asked. it's a common sight to catch a glimpse of him in the kitchen, diligently chopping ingredients and following the recipe to your favorite dish, getting himself completely covered in smoke and steam by the end of the process, but the result is always delicious so neither of you care.

he'll often call you into the kitchen to taste-test his newest recipe, shoving the dish in your face and urging you to try it like, "here babe, taste it!!" with the brightest smile as he eagerly waits for your feedback. he values your opinions a lot!

• him calling you petnames in spanish >>> omg. among his favorites are "mi amor" (my love), "cariño" (darling), and "corazón" (sweetheart). he usually rotates between those three and it never fails to bring a blush to your cheeks because like, hello??? how could it not??? he's always quick to notice your reaction and can't resist teasing you, playful remarks leaving his lips like, "a little flustered now are we, mi amor?" 🙏🙏🙏

• no matter how long you've been together, leo still flirts with you like it's the first time he's seen you. he'll brace himself against the nearest doorframe and unleash the cheesiest pick-up line known to mankind. despite their predictability, you play along. the game ends when he asks you on a "first date."

• leo spends a lot of time tinkering in his workshop, so whenever boredom sets in, (or if he's just thinking of you) he likes to put his creativity to use by making various small creations with you on his mind. these items range from keychains, to mini jewelry boxes, and even small flowers carved out of metal scraps. (you now have enough to make a bouquet.) your nightstand and shelves are absolutely littered with his handiwork, and you take pride in owning each one of them. <33

• leo's the type of guy that twirls you around while hugging. there's something incredibly spontaneous and thrilling about the experience — just when you think he's only reaching for your hand, he suddenly lifts you off the ground and spins you around, generating a moment of pure joy before gently setting you down once again, and leaning back in for a normal hug.

• he's so whipped for you it's not even funny.

piper mclean

• piper hates being categorized as a typical child of aphrodite due to the expectations and assumptions that come with the title, especially given the reputation of some of her siblings. she's always quick to reassure you that she won't break your heart and that her love for you is truly genuine.

• piper has a soft spot for when you play with her hair; running your fingers through her choppy locks and especially when you braid it. when you gently scratch her scalp while brushing your nails through her hair, she gets lost in her own little world.

• piper isn't afraid to show you off if you're okay with it. like she's in a beautiful, loving relationship, why wouldn't she?? also she's a hand swinger FR. 🙏🙏🙏

• you guys have matching bracelets!! nothing fancy, just a bunch of multi-colored beads on a string, but she loves them so much. sometimes you dedicate dates to making these bracelets just because it's one of her favorite pastimes.

she has one with your name written on the beads, a couple with the titles of the albums you listen to together, as well as ones with your preferred color schemes. just anything to remind her of you. <33

her collection is so big that they now stack up to her arms. maybe it's becoming a problem.

• while piper doesn't like flaunting her wealth, if she sees that you have your eye on something she'll immediately buy it for you. no questions asked. you don't even need to say anything.

maybe you'll bring it up ONCE, not even asking her to buy it, just mentioning you were saving up for a particular item, and the next day it's on your bed with a note from her. when you ask her she'll just be like, "weren't you talking about it?"

• while piper is pretty self-conscious about her singing, she'll do it if you ask her to because she trusts you. if you're having trouble sleeping, she'll lay your head in her lap and sing a short melody, and it works every time. once you drift off, she’ll place a tender kiss on your forehead, (or multiple) and express how much you mean to her, because she can't be this sentimental when you're awake.

she's so in love omg.

hazel levesque

• she's the absolute sweetest girlfriend you could ever ask for! her sweet and loving nature is simply amazing and her love for you knows no bounds. she goes above and beyond to make you feel appreciated and loved in every way possible.

• she definitely loves to go horse-back riding with you. the sensation of the wind blowing through your hair, the warm sun kissing your skin, and the gentle sound of the horse's hooves rhythmically hitting the ground beneath you — it all feels like pure magic, especially since hazel is sharing the moment with you!

• over time, hazel got more comfortable with kisses. the first time you two shared a kiss, she timidly brushed her lips against yours before rapidly withdrawing, her hands instinctively covering her face in embarrassment.

but as time went by and your relationship progressed, she soon began to relax and gain confidence, especially with you relaxing and guiding her through every step of the way. <33

PDA isn't really her thing, but when the two of you are in private, she WILL shower you with kisses on various parts of your body, including your forehead, cheeks, neck, lips, and anywhere else she can reach. i feel like she'd especially love kissing your nose. it's quite endearing to watch her stand on her toes to give you a sweet smooch if you're tall, or simply grab your face and plant a gentle kiss on your nose if you're shorter.

• hazel is doing her best to learn about your interests, but like many things in the today's world, it's a learning process for her. but your help makes her feel more at ease in this modern world. there is still a lot that hazel doesn't fully comprehend, so she values the historical insights you share with her.

• hazel's love languages are acts of service and gift giving. she loves the way your eyes light up when she pampers you. she's also so patient when she helps you with your sword-fighting!! she goes the extra mile to help you master any technique, training with you for hours on end just to see your smile. she patiently guides you through each step, offering advice and encouragement along the way. her joy comes from your progress and happiness.

• okay this is a small thing but she always lets you have the last bite!! whether you're dining out or sharing popcorn at the movies, hazel is always mindful of ensuring that you get the last bite/handful. <33

she's so cute omg.

jason grace

• i think most of us know how touch starved this man is, but he slowly eases into romantic gestures. after a long day of praetor duties, all he wants to do is melt in your arms as you whisper sweet nothings to him.

jason loovvees resting his forehead against yours. it just brings him a sense of comfort and solace, really just your presence itself makes him feel safe. <33

• jason grows to love hand-holding! it starts off with just linking pinkies, but progresses when you take his calloused palms into yours. from the second you two intertwine hands, he's hooked.

he doesn't really know how to initiate hand-holding, so he often makes excuses like, "here, let's compare hand sizes." or "aren't you cold? let me warm up your hands for you." and proceeds to take both of your hands in his without waiting for a response because he just can't ask upfront. :(( (don't worry, he gets over it as the relationship progresses.) his GRIP on your hand is so noticeable LMAO. it's like he's afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.

he most definitely places kisses on your hand. 🙏🙏🙏 i'm talking regency era jane austen style kisses to your fingertips or palm, looking away with a visible blush. <33

• hear me out, considering his expertise in combat, this man has gotta have some beefy arms okayyy?? like, it's hard not to stare at them. and once he rolls up his sleeves, it's all over FR.

he does it without thinking at first, whether it's tidying up his cabin, strategizing battle plans, or sometimes just mindlessly sighing and rolling up his sleeves when something's on his mind. but he starts to notice how your gaze lingers on his forearms a little too long to be considered "normal", and once he figures it all out, he's having a whole field day with it.

basically, he makes a point to show off his arms around you whenever he could. it drives you crazy, and guess what? he's well aware of it. you know this given that he'll occasionally flash one of his rare jason grace smiles, which later transitions into a grin with a slightly raised lip. 🙏🙏🙏

• he's such a gentleman fr. even little things like holding open doors for you even if it means waiting a few extra moments, offering his sweater when you're cold without hesitation, or fixing up a plate for you during dinner, he's always trying to make life a little easier for you. <33

frank zhang

• frank gives the best bear hugs! (both literally and figuratively.) in the early stages of a relationship, he may come across as a bit awkward. not because he doesn't want to initiate anything, but rather because he's a bit unsure of himself. he takes his time to get to know you and build trust before stepping up his game and expressing his love in more obvious ways. as time passes, he becomes more comfortable and eases into the relationship at a sweet and slow pace, making sure to respect your boundaries and wishes. :((

he loves holding you and making you feel loved, so cuddles aren't uncommon. he takes care to express his affection in a way that makes you feels comfortable and appreciated!! he's always asking you, "do you feel alright?" or "is this fine?" because what may be okay one day might not be okay the next.

typically, he prefers to be the big spoon, but he's is also happy being the little spoon, because he believes that vulnerability and intimacy go both ways in a relationship!!

• frank has the ability to shapeshift into tons of different animals, and he uses this to his advantage while cuddling with you!! imagine waking up to find a cuddly koala bear clinging onto you protectively one day, and then the next day, holding a sweet and adorable tea-cup sized labrador puppy in your hands. the cuddling possibilities are endless!!

• your decision to date frank despite any challenges along the way has had such an impact on his self-esteem. like, seriously!! every word of praise you offer him is treasured, and he adores being around you; in fact, he flourishes in your presence. your encouragement has really made a difference in his life. <33

• he love, love, LOVES holding your hand!! he seems to find every opportunity to intertwine his fingers with yours, and in moments of stress or anxiety, he'll often tap or lightly pull on your hand as if seeking reassurance because your touch brings him a sense of comfort and safety.

• considering that frank's height ranges from 6'3-6'6, you're probably shorter than him. and yeah, he definitely utilizes his height advantage around you.

he loves by approaching you from behind and embracing you, regardless of your own height, and another plus is that he can easily lean down for a kiss!!

his height is particularly convenient around high shelves or objects that may be out of your reach. his height also provides a sense of protection and security for you because he can easily shield you from any harm that may come your way!

overall, 10/10 would date again.

a/n

WHY DO MY FICS KEEP GETTING LONGER AND LONGER LMFAOO.

i wanted to keep this fic relatively short but omg i could not fit everything i wanted in one post. part 2 maybe??

i love writing hc's because they're a lot more casual but my next post will probably be a regular oneshot. :))

xx, val.