#and the loyalty?? unparalleled

[treviso-nights]

in a shocking and completely predictable turn of events, felassan is actually the revolutionary solas thinks he is

[littlelordalphinaud]

for Lahzi Chaos:

What parts of the body are the most expressive? Do they shuffle and stomp their feet a lot when agitated or excited? Are they a hand talker? Do they have an impressive range of motion with their eyebrows?

Lahzi isn't very expressive. Being raised as nothing more than an experiment, expected to be violent on command, punished for not being better than her peers and elders via electric shock.

As she's starting to come out of her conditioning, Lahzi is starting to copy the body language and facial expressions of the people around her.

As of currently, she's mostly copying Alisaie, which is frightening a lot of people. And M'kisivhe, although not as often as she overheard M'kisivhe commenting that it creeped her out a little (that was meant to be a private conversation but Lahzi is a sneaky little thing)

She also tried to hold her body like Lucia for a while but the height difference caused some problems there!

[dyingfad]

my list of viewed shows has reached 500!! ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰ （Ｔ∇Ｔ）

[chaos-has-theories]

You know.... we spit on Marshal Crux for blowing up Ortus and Glaurica, but as detestable as he is, he also.... had a point?

“So it was Crux’s mean, blackened revenge on his own House—his own zealous desire to burn it clear of any hint of insurrection—that had forced Glaurica’s ghost back to her home planet. She did not say this. Silas Octakiseron knew more than he should, but if Harrow discovered that now, she’d be off down the corridor in her nightdress with a sack of emergency bones and a very focused expression. (GtN, ch. 31)

Glaurica's ghost was already scattered, and she still informed her old House of the creche massacre. She had maybe ten minutes as a revenant, and she still spilled one of Harrowhark's most closely kept secrets. Imagine what she could have done, if she'd made it there alive: the information that there were no newborns, after the massacre. The specifics of how the house is being run. Information, perhaps, on how the Reverend Parents have not spoken to anyone in close to a decade, nor been seen arranging the affairs of the house, having instead left everday business to their ten year old daughter.

And Ortus would be there, too. He might have more loyalty left to his house, but we know he added two and two together. He could have told Master Templars that the Reverend Daughter commited and unparalleled act of necromantic transgression, and that there is nobody left on the planet to keep it safe from censure.

Harrow should have never let them go. She didn't realize how much they knew, how much they inferred, but even without that, they knew too much.

Of course Crux took the matter into his own hand.

EDIT: just in case someone sees this post without reblogs please check the notes people had some very correct things to say (consensus: we still get to spit on crux)

[sonotpattismith]

my last dying breath (part I)

pairing: knight!choso x princess!reader word count: 8.1k content: YEARNING, mentions of murder, grief, loss, forbidden love, choso being down horrendous, angst, 18+ a/n: marking 18+ as part two will have smut

“With honor as my shield and loyalty as my sword do I, Choso Kamo, pledge my life unto thee, my princess. Should danger darken your path, I shall carve through its shadow, and should treachery whisper in the halls, I shall silence it before it should dare reach your ears. Should death dare extend its hand unto thee, I shall offer my own in its place. This I swear unto thee until my last dying breath, your highness.”

You didn’t expect the man who pledged himself so ardently to you, bent on one knee and neck bowed solemnly in the midst of the Ceremony of Oath, to ignore you with such unparalleled will. Well, perhaps he didn’t completely ignore you.

“Good morning, your highness.” His level voice would catch you by surprise that very first morning following his being sworn in, already standing guard outside the door of your chambers. The knight didn’t look at your way as he greeted you, his posture stiff as a board with his gaze pointed toward the wall across from him. 

“Sir Kamo,” you gasped in surprise, placing a hand over your racing chest. “You’re… very early.”

Being surrounded by surveillance certainly was not something you were unfamiliar with. They always lined the dining rooms, each ball and afternoon tea. Still, you had never experienced this— this… shadow of a knight falling into step behind you at all times. 

“Your highness wakes early.” He explained simply, making you scoff out a soft, incredulous laugh.

“Well… yes, however surely there is no need for such attentiveness at this hour.” You rationed, looping around to stand before him in hopes he’d finally look you in the eyes. They merely glanced down at you for what seemed like a fractioned second before returning to the wall behind you.

“I shall be here each morning before you wake, and we shall part here each night before you rest, Princess. As is my duty.” 

Blinking away the shock that was surely present in your eyes, you hoped he couldn’t sense the dread wafting from you at the notion that you’d never be allowed a moment of solace again. 

Of course, since the Queen was assassinated, even in the midst of your grieving the loss of your mother did you acknowledge that things would quickly change within this castle. With your being the next and only rightful heir to the crown that weighed so heavily on her head, it was to be expected that the King would demand constant surveillance of your safety. Why Sir Kamo was the knight he was so insistent upon appointing you, you had yet to uncover.

Attempting to break through his stiffly formal facade in hopes of making all this time you two would evidently be spending together less suffocating, you forced an amused smile onto your lips. 

“And if an enemy dares sneak in through my window at night, Sir?” You teased. 

“If I may remind your highness, that her chambers reside on the sixth story of the castle.” Choso’s tone remained as neutral as ever, even if the subtext of his words were coated in more sass than he had intended, and surely more than he’d ever dare to mock his princess with. “There are knights appointed to stand guard of these halls in the night, nonetheless.”

“Yes, of course.” You sighed out, feeling the blood rushing to your cheeks at his dismissal of your attempt at a jest. 

As though sensing your rapidly deflating mood, his chocolate eyes glanced toward you momentarily for only the second time that morning. Now staring at him head on, you took note of the angry scar that sliced across his face. It appeared fresh— hauntingly so.

“And if your highness should ever feel trapped in any particular danger at such an hour… if you call for me, I shall come personally, princess.” There was the faintest hint of emotion behind his otherwise stoic front, one that had you peering up at him hopefully.

Humming thoughtfully, a faintly amused smile ghosted over your lips as you turned to begin making your way to the dining room for breakfast. You barely had the chance to turn your back to him before he was pivoting on his heels and falling into step behind you. 

“And how should you propose I do that, Sir Kamo? Shall I ring a bell for you?” 

The man didn’t need to see your expression to note the teasing in your tone. Behind you, his deep baritone hummed briefly. 

“If this is what your highness wishes of me, then I shall retrieve a bell.” 

You prayed to any god that would hear you that your newly appointed knight would lighten up even if just a little. It seemed your prayers were in vain though, for each gruelling day over the coming weeks was nearly identical. 

“Good morning, your highness.” Each time your chamber doors cracked open to begin your day.

“Good morning, Sir Kamo.” Each time you’d steal a sidelong glance at his stoic expression and rigid posture. 

You thought Choso a perfectly acceptable knight; unwaveringly loyal and painfully aware of his— your surroundings, evident in the way his arm would cooly swipe in front of you each time there was so much as a pebble that threatened to tip your balance. He was also large enough to ward off any… unpleasant company that dared look your way. 

“Advise me when you are finished, your highness.” He’d remind you each time he’d carefully tuck your chair in closer to the dining table during your meals before resuming his post a mere few feet away at the door. 

“Thank you, Sir Kamo.” You’d always reply, having all but given up on your attempt to break that stone cold wall in front of him— slowly having come to terms with the notion that perhaps this was but a duty to him, and there was no reason to reciprocate such banter with his employer.

It wasn’t that Choso didn’t favor you per say, he simply couldn’t understand you. You, the princess who’s mother had been assassinated in cold blood a mere few months prior. The princess who was now forced to grieve such a loss with the added weight on your shoulders that the culprit had yet to be caught. The princess who he wasn’t quite sure was grieving at all, throwing jests at him and shedding nary a tear for her fate. 

The knight sometimes wondered if he had taken the queen’s death more impactfully than you had. 

It was not to say that your mother’s death had not impacted you. On the contrary, you felt constantly suffocated by the reminder of her. It was hung on each wall, in the glint of her portrait's eyes. It was in your smile each time you caught a glimpse of your reflection, and in your quick wit. It was in the footsteps that now trailed behind you each second of the day, a reminder of the gruesome fate she had been subjected to. 

Still, there was business to be tended to. You had a mere day to allow the shock to settle into your bones, for you were immediately being pulled into the hearings, meetings, and planning. Your mother’s death had become a methodical scheme to assure the crown had the upper hand the next time the enemy should strike, and it was no longer your mother that had died. 

It was simply the Queen.

So, it couldn’t sink deeper than the thinnest layer of your skin— not with the constant royal duties that had been hurdling the crown’s way in horribly rapid succession since the very second she passed. Certainly not with the constant reminder that your marrying and providing the kingdom an heir had now been pushed up to the forefront of your needed contributions to help secure the continued allegiance of the monarchy .

Choso hadn’t been privy to whatever meeting it was that had you bursting out the door he had been guarding for well over an hour, your face blazing with indignation and a fire within your step that he had yet to see from you in the few weeks that he had been appointed to you. He blinked slowly, ridding the barely veiled shock from his face before purposefully falling into place behind you with two long strides. 

“Your highness—” The knight called out, watching cautiously as you made your way to the east side exit that would lead to the gardens, but your pace didn’t falter. 

“I should like a moment to think.” Your words jumbled together almost nonsensically. He cast a sidelong glance at the stained-glass window to his right that had been on the receiving end of the dreadful torrential downpour occurring just outside the very door you were preparing to exit from. 

“It is storming, Princess. You will catch your death out there—”

“A moment to think alone, Sir Kamo.” With your bitten response, you were bursting out the side doors, the ends of your dress gathered in your hands as you made your way to the marbled bench hidden in the midst of the wisteria trees. 

The stream of furied rain was bearing down on your scalp, weighing down your hair to stick unceremoniously to your enraged face. Despite the way your dress now clung uncomfortably to your skin, the cool onslaught was a welcomed contrast to your current flush. 

It took only a moment before you could hear the distinct sound of weighted steps following closely behind you as you sunk down onto the cool bench. Squeezing your eyes shut in frustration, you bit down on the inside of your cheek in an attempt to take a step back and remind yourself that he was only doing his job. 

“It is raining, Sir Kamo.” You gritted through your teeth. 

“It is, your highness.” He said simply, his voice raised ever so slightly so as to find your ears even through the storm. 

Shifting around to look at him, you pursed your lips at the sight of his now drenched hair clinging to his sculpted cheekbones. His stance was diligent as usual though, showing no hint of discomfort in the midst of your stubbornness. 

“Surely you should prefer to wait inside.” You ground out in hopes that he’d catch the hint. His face remained ever neutral though, showing no signs of moving any time soon. You scoffed indignantly at his stone-front. “May I not have even a minute of solitude?”

Choso was silent for a moment before shifting around to face the castle instead. 

“Do what you must, princess. I shall be here.” 

The forceful sinking of your teeth into your cheek began to draw blood, the weight of his presence— of everyone’s presence, becoming too much for you to bear. You had shouldered it all, the loss, the grief, the stripping of your privacy, the politicizing of your future and body, and you had mastered the art of indifference. Now though, with his stubbornness permeating the damp air around you like a twisted reminder of how your life would appear the rest of your life, your resolve was disintegrating under the heavy pellets of rain and Choso’s watchful eye. 

A strangled sob broke past the barrier of your tight set lips. Raising a shaky hand in an attempt to shield your traitorous mouth, your efforts were proven futile as the grief continued washing over you in trembling waves of tears and choked cries. The frigid tips of your fingers curled into your dress as though to ground you from flying somewhere far, far away from all the meetings, the expectations, the protection. 

The knight’s shoulders stiffened at the sound of your uncharacteristic cries, eyes widening ever so slightly. His head shifted with a careful subtly to the side to peer at you from his peripheral. At the sight of your heaving form, shaking shoulders, and distraught expression, he quickly faced forward once again, as though personally stung by the cruel edge of your grief. 

You were unsure of how long you allowed your cries to take you hostage, but you knew you feared what you might find should you look up from the safety of your hands. 

There was a soft shuffling that drew closer to you carefully, akin to a child attempting to gracefully catch a hare without alarming it of his presence. After a few stifling moments, you heard the distinct sound of armour clinking before you. Glancing up timidly from behind your hands, you found your knight knelt on the puddled ground. 

His head was bowed down, drops of rain racing down the soaked strands of his bangs that had fallen from his tie. In his hand, being nearly equally pummeled by the storm, was a bushel of hydrangeas, the softest shade of periwinkle blues. 

You stared wide-eyed at him for a moment. 

His lashes shifted up after a beat too long of your silence, and he gazed apprehensively back at your unreadable expression. Licking his already soaked lips, his eyes fluttered between you and the flowers in his grasp. 

“Excuse me if I have overstepped, your highness.” Choso’s hesitant voice trailed. “My… my mother used to tell me I should gift a grieving lady flowers, as she may at the very least pick at their petals as she ruminates.” 

His gaze had cast back down to the ground in a boyish display of awkwardness, so he missed the way your gaze softened at his explanation. Taking a moment to study the flowers that he had picked from the bush just a mere couple feet away, you couldn’t hold back your tickled smile. 

“Do you wish to kill me, Sir Kamo?” 

At once, his head shot up to gaze incredulously at you. 

“I-I beg your pardon, your highness?” 

You couldn’t help but release a breathy laugh at the bewilderment resting on his handsome features. Sniffling softly, you nodded toward the flowers still clutched in his gloved palm. 

“The hydrangeas— they disagree terribly with me.” You explained as you reached up to wipe at your swollen eyes. “Simply holding them swells my skin dreadfully.”

“I’m terribly sorry, princess.” Choso stammered out through rapidly flushing cheeks as he quickly tossed the bushel to the side. “I did not—”

“I suppose I will simply have to pick at your brain while I ruminate instead then, won’t I?” You halted his frantic mortification with a gentle smile, a barely disguised vulnerability shining behind your eyes with the hope that he wouldn’t turn you away when you desperately wanted someone to receive your words— someone without a political agenda to push onto you.

The knight’s mouth opened and closed in uncertainty as he processed your request. With a gentle nod, the corners of his lips creeped up into the whisper of a smile. 

“If this is what your highness wishes of me.”

Through your tears, an appreciative smile graced your lips, one he thought looked radiant on your dewy skin. A long sigh slipped past your lips as your eyes drifted upward as though to hold back anymore tears from revealing themselves to him. He remained patiently kneeled before you, his gaze carefully observing your expression. 

“My father wishes me to be wed, Sir Kamo.”

It was silent for a few beats as he processed your explanation, his dark brows twitching down in the most subtle of confusion. Pursing his lips for a moment as he contemplated his answer, he shook his head, droplets of rain falling from his nose with the movement. 

“I apologize, Princess, however I was under the impression that your wedding was… an inevitable progression for your highness. I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“To eventually find a husband that I may grow to care for, yes.” You began, finally dropping your head back down to meet his gaze. There was a quiet attentiveness in them that you weren’t sure you had seen in a long time, always having been spoken to rather than listened to. “However to find a husband within the fortnight with the intention of bearing an heir within the month… that was not in my plans.” 

“I… I see.” Choso released a slow breath, feeling his heart constrict at the predicament you were being forced into in the midst of your grieving nonetheless. The knight’s mind span with possible solutions, anything that might prove useful to you— anything that might save you from the dangers of uncertainty you were facing. He was quickly coming to the realization that this may be the one peril he couldn’t save you from. Choso couldn’t save you from your duty— not your father, not the crown. The only thing he could hope to offer was his saving you from facing it all in solitude, and that would simply have to do for now. So, he clenched and unclenched his jaw before placing an apprehensive hand atop of yours. “I’m sorry, Princess. I truly am.”

His subtle consolation had a fresh wave of tears brewing within your waterline, as though your soul felt safe enough now blanketed in his solace to release them. Your face scrunched up in a manner you thought surely must be unseenly, and you took him by surprise when you fell forward onto his shoulder. A hesitant rigidness overtook his frame, not quite sure what to do with his hands— not sure what was appropriate, even if your falling into his embrace could already be considered far from proper. 

“What am I to do, Sir Kamo?” You cried desolately into his shoulder. “There is to be a ball within the fortnight, and I am to be paraded around as though a-a cattle prime for breeding.”

“I am certain your father must have a… perfectly acceptable list of suitors, your highness.” His attempt to ease you only caused your shoulders to tremble more. He squeezed his eyes shut at his own stupidity. 

“And if I am forced to dance with an oaf of a man?”

“Then… then you shall ring your bell, and I shall come rescue you.”

This made your shoulders shake once again, but this time it was your harmonious laughter filling his ears rather than your cries, and it made him smile appreciatively, an odd sense of pride swelling in his chest at having been the cause of such a sweet song. 

You pulled away from him to peer into his kind eyes, your hands steadied on his broad shoulders.

“Do you promise?” You questioned with a wobbly smile, one that was proving impossible not to return. Forgoing titles and properness, his gloved hand reached up to tenderly swipe at your undereyes. 

“Until my last dying breath, your highness.”

In the midst of such an abrupt turn over of your life, there was at the very least some solace in the fact that Choso seemed to be becoming someone you could lean on for support. 

The two of you didn’t speak much following your breakdown, as he insisted you move your episode indoors lest you grow ill from the rain. Despite your conversation being cut short, it was evident in the sopping walk back to your chambers that the air between you two had shifted. It felt lighter— less imposing. 

So, when you woke the next morning, you were, for the first time since his appointment, actually eager to see him standing guard outside your door. Smoothing down your hair that your ladies insisted on oiling to the heavens the night prior with the sworn oath that rain water would ruin its shine, you pushed open the doors to your room.

“Good morning, your highness.” 

“Good morning—” Your response halted as you took note of the drastically different voice greeting you. Looking up at the knight standing guard, you noted that it wasn’t your knight, but the one who typically stood guard in Choso’s place during the night. Blinking a few times at the blond man before you, your brows furrowed. “Pardon me, Sir, I was expecting Sir Kamo.”

The man nodded solemnly, and it was clear that he was desperate to be relieved, evident in the redness that shrouded the waterline of his hazel eyes. 

“Sir Kamo has yet to report for duty, your highness.” He explained simply. 

“He—” Your lips shut into a perplexed frown as you tried to recall a day when the man had ever been tardy. You were coming up short though, because while you never knew exactly when it was that Choso reported each morning, you knew he was always there before you woke. “That is most strange.”

“Perhaps he is simply running a bit late this morning, your highness.” The stand in before you offered, but you quickly shook your head.

“I’m afraid this is highly unlike him. Are you certain he is well?”

“I have yet to leave my post, your highness.”

You huffed in frustration, though the more rational side of you knew he was merely following orders. That gnawing feeling of unease wouldn’t allow you to accept such a nonchalant explanation though. Raising your chin in a display of feigned assertiveness, you nodded toward the blond.

“Take me to him.” You ordered simply.

“I… beg your pardon, your highness?”

“Take me to his chambers. I shall see if he is well.” 

The knight’s eyes fluttered with apprehension, and he clenched uneasily at his fists.

“Pardon me, princess, however I’m afraid it is improper for a lady to enter the knights’ chambers. The king would surely have my head for allowing such a scene.”

“Well, Sir…” Your voice trailed as you raised your brow at him in question. He immediately bowed his head at you, whisps of his neatly kept hair falling upon his face.

“Nanami, your highness.”

“Sir Nanami,” You nodded curtly. “It is lucky that I have no intention of speaking a word of this to my father, just as I am certain you have no intention of standing guard for longer than you must this morning.”

The knight stood in contemplative silence for so long that you truly thought your efforts were going to be in vain, but after nearly two minutes, his lips pulled into a taut line. 

“You have a promising future in politics, your highness.” Sir Nanami grumbled before nodding toward the west side of the hall. 

Biting back a triumphant smile, you nodded in thanks before eagerly following after him. It was not long before you were stepping into a completely unfamiliar area of the castle. It floored you suddenly, how there were still areas untouched by your presence in the place you had lived in since birth. Your bottom lip caught between your teeth, and you were grateful that everyone had already departed their chambers for their duties that morning. 

“I will keep watch here, your highness.” The blond informed firmly, but there was a hesitancy in his tone at the implications of the current scene before him. Nonetheless, he tore his weary gaze from the wooden door you two had stopped in front of. “Be sure not to linger long.”

Nodding ardently, you tried to calm your racing heart as anxiety pooled in the pits of your stomach. What if he had simply overslept? What would he think of your sudden intrusion into his space? Still, despite only having known him for a short while, the thought of such a slip simply did not pair with the image he’d formed in your mind. 

With a final, calming breath out, the heavy door creaked open under your delicate hand. The air in the dim room was stifling even despite the way the curtains were doing their best to block out the sun’s rays. A small sliver still shone through, illuminating a modest path onto the wooden floors, revealing the boots that lay haphazardly tucked under the bed, to the small desk against the wall adorned with messily strewn about parchment, all the way to the disheveled sheets on the bed.

Your breath hitched as you followed that fated trail of light up to where your knight remained sprawled out, sheets tangled carelessly through his legs as though he had been tossing and turning restlessly for hours. It was unmooring, seeing the typically well kept and fierce man in such a state, with his usually neatly tied hair loose and clinging to his clammy forehead as a fevered flush overtook cheeks. 

The door fell shut behind you, not imposing enough to wake him, but enough to make his brows furrow as he shifted uncomfortably on his mattress. Your breath hitched at the sudden movement, leaving you frozen in your spot by the door. It wasn’t until your heartbeat had subtly steadied from its distracting rushing through your ears, and you were able to hear the ragged labor of his breaths that you snapped from your stupor. 

“Sir Kamo?” You called out hesitantly, a slight tremble in your voice as you carefully stepped forward. 

The man only groaned softly, a strained cough sputtering from his lips. As you drew closer to the bed, and your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, you took in the sight of his chest, typically shielded by layers of armour, now bared to you in all its scarred and chiseled glory. Your lips parted at the sight, never before having seen a man so exposed to you before, let alone one you were alone with. 

Forcing yourself to concentrate on the task at hand, you pulled your gaze from his broad chest back to his glistening face. Taking the last couple of steps until your hip grazed the edge of his bed, you reached out to press a hesitant hand against his forehead. His face scrunched at the sensation, a sharp breath being sucked in through his teeth.

“You fool.” You cursed under your breath upon feeling the unseemly heat radiating off his skin. A gnawing guilt began eating away at the pits of your stomach, knowing that your little outburst the day prior had put him in this predicament. 

Leaning a trembling hand onto the mattress by his hip in an attempt to brush the hairs from his forehead and get a better feel, the bed creaked under the shifted weight. An incoherent mumble fell from his lips, and his dark lashes fluttered against his cheek bones before his eyes slowly cracked open. They were beary and bloodshot as they peered back at you in a daze. 

“Your… your highness?” His strained voice croaked out quietly, brows knitted together as though he was still trying to process whether you were truly here or simply a mirage conjured up from his fevor-induced stupor. 

“Sir Kamo, you are burning up.” Your panicked voice seemed to bring reality crashing back down onto his sore muscles, and his dewy eyes widened at once. 

“Y-Your highness!” Choso stammered out as he sat up with a start despite the way his aching bones were screaming in protest. The sheet that had been at the very least partially covering his chest slipped down his torso to pool in his lap, though he seemed far too frenzied to notice. “I overslept! Y-You’re— You mustn't be here, Princess. This is—”

“You must lay back, Sir.” You ordered, your comparably cold hands finding their way to his athletic shoulders to push him back down onto his pillow to no avail as he fought against your grip. The sensation of your skin on his seemed to remind him of his state of undress, the flush on his cheeks growing a few shades darker.

“This is terribly inappropriate, your highness.” Your knight stated with a fervent shake of his head, and he blamed it on his feverish state that he could swear he saw your eyes drifting down the newly exposed expanse of his rippling abdomen. “You must leave, and I must relieve Sir Nanami. Your father will have my—”

“My father will not hear a word of this.” You emphasized with a final shove to his chest, and he was falling back against the mattress with a vicious cough. 

Leaving a warning hand on his firm pectoral lest he try to get back up, you reached down with your free hand to grasp at the washcloth hanging off the side of the water basin beside his bed. The sight of the already half-filled basin made you wonder how long he had been suffering his symptoms alone that night. Dunking it in before wringing it out as best as you could with one hand, you carefully brought the cool cloth up to rest on his scorching forehead.

He flinched back subtly from the sudden frigid touch, but it only took mere seconds before his shoulders were slumping back against his pillow, the worried line between his brows slowly relaxing in relief. Licking at his parched lips, he stared back at you hazily. 

“I must resume my duties, Princess.” Choso fought weakly, though he made no move to stray away from the caress of the cool cloth you were running tenderly down his cheek and jawline. “You mustn't be without protection.”

“You will serve no use to me in such a state.” You assured softly, smiling apologetically when he jolted ever so slightly as the cloth dragged down his neck. His chest fell with a defeated breath, and his eyes seemed to drift shut lazily against his will. The hand that had since been lingering on his chest traversed up to carefully brush the damp hairs from his face, and you selfishly took the opportunity to ghost the tips of your fingers over the jagged scar across his nose curiously. “I should have stayed inside as you instructed.”

“Nonsense, my princess,” He mumbled out through his daze, eyes cracking open to gaze gingerly at you. “I would follow you anywhere.”

Your lips parted at the tenderness of his words, whether they were conjured from his fever-riddled mind or not. If he took note of the sudden flush in your cheeks, he made no mention of it as he fought to keep his eyes open. 

“Yes, I suppose so.” You breathed out with a soft shake of your head. “Rest now.”

“Who will watch over you, your highness?” 

“You have watched over me, and now I shall watch over you. Sleep now, Sir Kamo.” You assured gently, watching with a melting heart as the corners of his lips twitched up into the ghost of a smile at the sound of his title rolling from your tongue. His eyes finally drifted shut. 

“If this… is what your highness wishes of me.”

Choso was back to his post the very next morning. Albeit, he still had a certain mist over his eyes that evidenced his waning illness, however he was there nonetheless. The both of you made no mention of the way you stayed with him that day prior, watching over him just as you had promised. Still, there was a humble appreciation glimmering in his eyes as he bid you a good morning, one that complimented the subtle flush in his cheeks charmingly as he recalled the state you had found him in. 

Thanks to the unspoken bond of trust that had forged between you two, the days leading up to your father’s proposed ball failed to drag on as dreadfully as you had anticipated. At the very least, your knight seemed to understand when the planning and the fittings were becoming too much for you, never questioning it when you made your way out to that familiar bench in the garden. 

He was often tempted to ask about your mother— if you had the proper chance to grieve her, how you seemed to be holding up so well, if anyone had told you what had truly happened—

“It seems your head is in the clouds, Sir Kamo.” Your gentle muse pulled him from his thoughts. “Is something on your mind?”

Blinking a few times to rid the hazed mist that had fallen over his eyes, Choso peered down at you in a fluster. Gulping down the apprehension at the very thought of the topic, he tried to gather his thoughts before his lips parted. 

“My apologies, your highness. I simply wonder…” His voice trailed once you shifted your attention to him fully. 

The subtle movement had the sun’s beams reflecting off your observant eyes, emphasized etherally by the tranquil smile stretching across your plump lips. You tilted your head at him in question, as it was rare that he ever picked at your disarrayed brain. A loose curl of your hair drifted across your face, making your nose scrunch up as the strand tickled the skin there. 

One corner of his lip twitched up instinctively at the sight. His hand flexed apprehensively beside him once, then twice, before he was carefully reaching out to tuck the strand back behind your ear. It was well within his duty— was it not? To protect you of whatever might ail you, even if it was a mere lock of your traitorous hair. Why then, did this feel less like his duty, and more like his burning desire for your face to remain unrestricted to his covetous eyes? 

“You wonder… what my ladies put in my hair to make it shine so gracefully, perhaps?” You teased with a dramatic flip of your hair and waggle of your brows. 

He huffed out a breathless laugh, reveling in the way your eyes creased at the corners with the force of your glee. It suddenly felt wrong of him to remind you that you were meant to be grieving— not when you had found even a singular moment of solace from the whirlwind of events that had been hurled your way as of late. So, he offered a resigned smile and nodded solemnly. 

“Yes, your highness. You must forgive me, as it must have slipped my mind that a lady mustn’t share her secrets to those who behold their rewards.” 

“Oh, what a shame!” You groaned mockingly, though there was a hint of truth behind your exasperated tone. Standing from your designated spot on the bench, you began walking back toward the castle before leaning your head back to peer at your knight. “I should only wish that my father’s chosen suitors will have half the consideration you do, Sir Kamo.”

Your words sunk into his chest, adding phantom kilos to his already hefty armor. Gulping down the tension that had begun to constrict his throat, he pulled himself from his haze in order to follow after you diligently with a resigned murmur. 

“As do I, Princess.” 

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure when or why you had stopped vehemently opposing this arrangement, but Choso was quickly coming to terms with the fact that he would perhaps never understand your peculiar method of coping. It was only mere days ago when you had been wailing into his shoulder in utter disarray over the very ball you were eagerly filling him in on the details of now. 

He tried desperately to keep up with the sudden shifts in your mood, but he was coming up short. At the very least, the knight was relieved to see you in presumably better spirits than that dreaded day, as he wasn’t sure he could handle the thought of having to drag you out to that ball kicking and screaming. 

It had been hours now that your ladies had been filtering in and out of your room that long awaited day, each looking a bit more frazzled than the last. He had lost count of the amount of times he’d had to excuse himself from their thunderous paths, or the amount of times he’d simply been shoved out of the way. 

There had been a select few instances when the door would be left open for a breath too long, and he’d find himself tilted his head back ever so slightly in hopes he’d catch a glimpse of whatever witchcraft they seemed to be performing on you. The closest he’d gotten was seeing just a whisper of your hair before the door would be shut once again. 

Sure, he’d be branded a heretic if he said he wasn’t dying to see the princess all adorned and fixed up like a true heiress. Truthfully though, he had been dying to get one genuine answer out of you before the night began. Your sudden nonchalance and feigned indifference in contrast to how terribly you had initially taken the news simply wasn’t sitting right in his chest, and it was killing him to know you felt the need to hide it, wallowing in your suffering alone in that labrynth you called a mind. 

Choso hadn’t even noticed when the ladies stopped bustling in and out of your room, simply noting that it had been quiet now for some time. 

Your door cracked open after some time though, your timid voice following. 

“Sir Kamo?” 

“Your highness,” The knight greeted as he quickly pivoted to face the door you were peeking your head out from. “Do you wish for me to call upon your ladies?” 

“Actually,” You murmured out apprehensively, and he was finally taking note of the subtle ways your features seemed to pop dramatically in contrast to when he had last committed them to memory. “I should like your counsel. Come— make haste.” 

He took a step back as your door swung ajar, shaking his head firmly.

“This is hardly appropriate, your highness.”

“Hardly implies a certain semblance of properness at the very least, and that shall do for now. Come now, Sir Kamo.”

“Just as I hardly believe your father will accept such rationality when he makes a eunuch of me.” He mumbled doubtfully under his breath as you hooked your delicate fingers into his chest plate to all but yank him into your quarters.

“What was that?” 

“Nothing, your highness.”

The heavy door fell shut with a soft thud behind him as he readjusted his chest plate in lieu of your manhandling. Finally looking up from his begrudged fumbling, his words caught in his throat. Whatever unspirited vision he had conjured in his mind of what you might look like presenting yourself tonight could have been considered blasphemous gossip compared to the sight standing before him.

The ornate lace details of your dress held a faint glimmer that shone in the moonlight peeking in through your window. It cast a celestial glow upon your carefully crafted face, the one with cheeks rosier than their baseline, with lips rouged in a manner that drew the attention of any sensible man that might behold you tonight. 

Your hair, which he had grown so accustomed to seeing loose and free after your ladies had given up their hopes on you not picking at your styles throughout the day, was gracefully gathered at your nape and woven through with ornate gems that almost rivaled the shimmer in your eyes. There were a few strands purposefully left out to frame your delicate face, the tips of the curls brushing against your cheekbones as you peered up at him expectantly. 

Something— surely the man who spent years in rigorous training to sharpen that poise and regality he prided himself on should have anything graceful to say to the princess he had sworn an oath to, but words appeared utterly lost on him as his dark eyes dragged over your form. 

“Well?” You questioned in a fluster, grasping anxiously at your elbows as you chewed on the already mangled flesh inside your cheek. “Do I look foolish?”

“You look…” Choso pursed his lips as though to hold back what his mind so desperately wanted to say, because if he allowed himself the truth of his convictions, he wasn’t sure he’d let you leave for that ball. “Like a dream, your highness.”

A gentle scoff fell from your lips, and you quickly turned to face the mirror and busy yourself with mindlessly smoothing down your gown in an attempt to disguise your flustered state. 

“Well versed in flattery, I see.” Your bashful dismissal made him frown, stepping forward as though prepared to reach out to you, but he instead clenched his fists at his sides. 

“I do not—” The knight stopped himself with a dismissive shake of his head. It mattered not for him to prove himself to you now. All he truly desired from you before escorting you down to that ball was a modicum of sincerity. “Are you feeling well, Princess?”

You peered up at him from his reflection in the mirror, where he stood tall behind you, eyes ablaze with a concern you couldn’t quite place. Quickly tearing your gaze away from his weighted stare, you fiddled with your earring. 

“Do I look unwell? I thought I looked a dream, Sir.” You teased, but he could see the tremble hidden beneath your forced smile. 

Your breath hitched when you felt his hand wrap gently around your elbow, turning you to face him. His brows kissed together as he searched your expression for any semblance of something genuine. 

“I don’t understand, your highness.” Choso shook his head softly, and you found yourself instinctively lowering your gaze to escape his. As though remembering his place, he abruptly lowered the hand that had found residence on your arm. “If you are frightened, then be frightened. I cannot help you if you do not tell me what troubles you.”

The plush of your bottom lip trembled ever-so-slightly at his words, as though they acted as a stark reminder of the feelings you had grown to repress over the past few days. Picking at the bodice of your dress, you shrugged your shoulders. 

“Will it matter?” You questioned with a desolate raise of your head. Your eyes darted over his face in barely concealed frustration. “When I grieved my mother, I was still to attend meetings, and I was to see to building back up the hope that her death had eradicated from our people. Just the same, Sir Kamo, I am still to attend this ball, and I am still to find a husband. So, I must ask again— should it matter if I am positively trembling with fear at the very thought of it?”

The knight’s taut expression gradually relaxed in understanding, but your carefully guarded confession didn’t have the same effect on his heartstrings that yearned to wrap themselves around you and shield you from whatever may be placing that worried frown on your lips. 

“It matters to me, your highness.” Choso responded firmly, though his voice was low enough to provide that comforting baritone you were quickly growing so fond of. Stepping just a hair closer to you, he hesitated once before continuing. “I know it may never be enough to shoulder the burden that’s been unjustly placed on you, but you must know— it matters very much to me.”

At once, you felt the weeks worth of repressed feelings bubbling up at the surface, and, much like all the times before, now simply wasn’t the right time nor place to release them, even if your knight’s loyal solitude was transforming into the only place you wished to place your bags down at. 

Still, you nodded softly, and he understood it despite your silence, one of his arms raising hesitantly in invitation. You took it at once, grasping at his forearm to press yourself into his shoulder with a shuddering breath. A sob threatened to slip past your lips, but you cut it short with a purposeful grunt. 

“You will ruin my ladies’ diligent work.” Your strained voice still attempted to jest with him, making him huff out a soft laugh. 

Pulling you away just enough to be at arm’s length, Choso made quick work to remove his gloves before placing his pointer fingers to lay just under your eyes to capture any traitorous tears that dared to escape. 

“Look up, princess.” He ordered gently, and you did so without question, only a fleeting wonder of when you had placed so much of your trust into him. 

“I am scared, Sir Kamo.” You whispered desolately with your eyes pointed toward the ceiling. “I-I wanted to meet someone as though in… I don’t know— in a fairytale, as juvenile as it may sound.” 

Your warm, trembling breath fanned out against his neck as you brought your hands up to rest on his forearms as though to ground yourself. For a moment, your eyes drifted back down to meet him once again. They were illuminated by your unshed tears, wide and uncertain as they gazed into his. 

“It was meant to be the one thing I could choose for myself.” 

“It still is, your highness.” Choso insisted, but you quickly shook your head with a bitter smile.

“It is not, for if that were true than I—” You stopped yourself, your lips paused around the unspoken words that hung thickly in the air around you. 

You were well aware of what was prepared to leave your mouth, and he was well aware of what he hoped it was. Both of you allowed this juxtaposition to linger freely in the small space between you, free of the burden of explanation or analysis. The knight smiled wistfully. Dragging his fingers carefully under your eyes, he allowed his hands to linger on either side of your face for perhaps a beat too long before he pulled himself away, suddenly moving to fiddle under his sleeve. 

“You needn’t be afraid, Princess.” He offered with a small yet encouraging smile. “I shall be only a call away throughout the night.”

“Yes, as I’m sure my shouting upon my knight to come rescue me from a less than favorable suitor will smooth over very well for my family name.” You laughed with a quiet sniffle as you worked to pull yourself together once again. 

It was then that Choso held up a thin ribbon within your line of sight, the small jingle that followed the movement making your brows furrow. Finally focusing on the delicate charm hanging in the middle of it, you couldn’t hold back the positively unlady-like snort that escaped you. 

“Is that—”

“It is, your highness.” He nodded eagerly, proud to have elicited such a genuine reaction from you. “You needn’t shout. Simply ring your bell, and I shall be by your side at once. The oafs will be none the wiser.”

Despite the giggles of disbelief that were shaking at your shoulders, there was an undeniable warmth spreading through your chest at his consideration, of the notion that he had thought about you even when you two were apart. 

“May I?” His request pulled you from your thoughts, and you nodded ardently as you presented your wrist to him. 

His movements were delicately calculated as he carefully tied the cream colored ribbon around your wrist, securing it with a neat bow. With a triumphant smile, he looked up to gauge your reaction. Your gaze was focused on the small bell though, and how his grip lingered on your arm, his fingers kissing the sensitive skin under it absentmindedly. 

Pulling yourself back down to reality, you shook your head with a tiny, dismissive smile as you wiggled your wrist to test out your new makeshift bracelet. 

“Will you be able to hear such a tiny thing, Sir?” You questioned doubtfully with a teasing quirk of your brow. 

“If it is attached to you, I shall be able to pick it out of even the most boisterous of crowds, your highness.” Choso’s reassurance had an air of nonchalance to it as though he truly didn’t intend for it to weigh on you as much as it did, but perhaps that was what made him so undeniably special. It simply seemed to come so easily to him.

Forgoing shame and formality, you reached up on the tips of your toes to wrap your arms around his neck, a fresh set of tears threatening to form once again. From over his shoulder, you had to blink up pathetically at the ceiling to stop them from coming. The man pressed against you stood stunned in his place, arms hanging stiffly at his sides. 

“Do you promise?” You whispered hopelessly, the gentle puff of your breath on his ear sending shivers down his spine. 

Deciding he had withstood temptation beyond the limit of an ordinary man, he allowed his head to drift to the side, his nose burying softly into the carefully woven locks of your hair. Choso’s lashes fluttered shut as your increasingly familiar scent filled his senses, and he resisted the urge to press a kiss onto your temple simply to know what you would feel like against his lips.

“Until my last dying breath, my princess.”

part two is already halfway done I PROMISE

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

tags: @cryingoverpixelsetc , @lelerzzz

[zyhkoo]

☆ Birds of a feather

angst, jason x gn!reader, ‘doll’ being used

Jason can’t love you the way you do.

a/n: hi everyone! my friend help me with this one, give a round of applause to her! i shall do my requests soon, i’m just busy.

You loved Jason, the two of you have been glued to the hip for who knows when. You have been there since he was still Robin, and now as Red Hood. Your bond was unparalleled, a friendship strong enough to withstand any storm. The kind of connection one only dreams of finding.

Everyone who knew the two of you was acutely aware of your unshakeable bond. It was an almost tangible presence, as if the two of you were tethered together by an invisible force. You were rarely ever seen without the other, so much so that your names were often mentioned in the same breath.

Jason's emotional struggles with romance were a reality that you had come to accept. Despite the deep connection the two of you shared, he was plagued by an internal turmoil that made the prospect of a romantic relationship unattainable for him.

You, for your part, had come to understand and accept this aspect of his nature, recognizing that the bond between the two of you was not defined by romantic love, but by a deep, unwavering loyalty and friendship.

You longed for the comfort of knowing that Jason would always be by your side, even in the face of death itself. The thought of him staying with you until you were laid in the grave, dead and buried, and carried away in a casket, brought an intense sense of security and comfort. If Jason ever decided to leave, you knew that you wouldn't be far behind. It was always him for you, and there was nothing that could change that.

Jason, too, was acutely aware of your unwavering loyalty to him. Knowing that you would follow him to the ends of the earth, no matter what hardships or trials he faced. It was a knowledge that weighed heavily on him, knowing that your fate was intertwined with his own.

Your unshakeable devotion stirred within him a complex mix of emotions- pride in your loyalty, coupled with a pang of guilt. Pride because he knew you would always stick by his side, no matter the consequences.

Jason was acutely aware of how much your unrequited feelings for him were causing you pain. Despite his own internal struggles with romance, he recognized that your love for him was deep and unwavering. He knew how much it hurt you for him to not be able to return your romantic feelings, and he felt immense guilt for causing you such pain.

He often struggled with the knowledge that he could never give you what you desired the most from him, and this realization weighed heavily on his heart. It pained him to know that he could never fulfill the romantic hopes and dreams of the one person who meant the world to him.

The two of you were in a bookstore, surrounded by stacks of leather-bound volumes and the scent of aged paper. Jason was the one who introduced you to the world of books. He led you through the labyrinthine shelves, his fingers brushing against the spines of the books with a reverence that spoke of his deep connection to the written word. The two of you shared a comfortable silence, both finding solace in the pages that surrounded you.

You took several books on the shelves, placing them in the small shopping carts that they provided. “I got enough for the whole summer,” you said, turning to him. “What about you?” Jason shrugged and picked up a few books to add to the cart, “I’m not far behind.”

He picks up a book, it was about a loyal man who reunited with his dead wife. He stood there for a moment, holding the book in his hand and staring at the cover. This was a tale that typically ended on a happy note.

But his thoughts lingered on a different kind of ending, one that didn't necessarily have a happy ending. He thought about the two of you, your unwavering loyalty and how despite your devotion, there wasn't the same romantic element present. You noticed the melancholy expression that crossed his face, and you could sense that something was weighing heavily on his mind.

You approached him, and gently asked, "Is there something on your mind?”

He looked up at you, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment before he averted his gaze.

“It’s nothing, doll.” he responded, his voice trailing off as he absently flipped through the pages of the book in his hands.

You shrugged, not wanting to press him too much. You knew that Jason often preferred to keep his emotions and thoughts close to his chest, and trying to get him to open up could sometimes feel like pulling teeth. You busied yourself with the other books in the cart, trying to give him a moment to work through whatever was troubling him.

Eventually, the two of you arrived at his apartment, as he unlocked the door and ushered you inside, he felt a pang of unease in his chest. He needed to discuss something important with you.

“So, what are we doing? Movie night? Mario kart?” you said with a smile. Jason forced a smile in response, the tension in his chest tightening further. "Actually," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Something important."

A pit formed in your stomach, talk about what exactly? You placed your books down on the coffee table and looked back at his gaze. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jason took a deep breath before speaking again. "I've been having somethin’ lately, doll." he said, his voice quieter now. "About our friendship."

Your heart sank a little at his words, your mind immediately jumping to worst-case scenarios. He doesn't want to be friends anymore, you thought to yourself. He's pulling away, getting distant. Was he going to say what you were dreading to hear?

Jason noticed the look on your face and quickly spoke up again. "It's not anything bad," he hurried to reassure you. "I've been goin’ through some stuff. And I think we need to talk about where we stand." You relaxed slightly at his words, albeit a bit puzzled. You looked at him questioningly, silently encouraging him to continue.

"Our friendship is... important to me, doll." he sighed, meeting your gaze. "You're the most important person in my life. But I can't jus’ ignore fact that..." He paused, his sentence hanging in the air. Your mind raced with possibilities, trying to decipher what he was trying to say. You could feel the tension in the air, and your heart was pounding in your chest.

"I know how you feel about me," he said, "I know you want more."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. He knew. He had been aware this whole time, and he had said nothing. Your mind raced, a million thoughts and emotions swirling within you.

"I want to be honest with you," he continued, "And I don't want to hurt you. But I can't give you what you want. I can't give you that kind of love. It’s not something I can do."

Your heart ached at his words, the weight of them hitting you like a ton of bricks. You had hoped, deep down, that maybe he would reciprocate your feelings. But now, the reality was crushing your heart into pieces.

Jason's expression was one of guilt and remorse. "It hurts me too," he said, his voice tinged with sadness. "Seeing you wanting something from me that I can't give. It's like a constant knife in my chest, knowing that I can't make you happy the way you deserve." You held his hand “It’s okay,” you forced a smile “It’s okay if you don’t. My friendship with you, it's very important.”

Jason's grip on your hand tightened slightly. "You say that, but I know it's not true," he said, "I see the way you look at me doll, the way you longingly touch my hand or lean in closer. It's not just friendship for you, and deep down, we both know it."

Your heart clenched at his words. He was right, you couldn't deny it. But you didn't want to push him away or make him feel guilty for something he couldn't control. So, you just smiled again. "It's really okay," you repeated, trying to sound more convincing this time. "We'll... we'll make it work, right? Just us, as friends."

He knew that you were putting on a brave front for him, trying to downplay your own feelings in order to salvage the friendship. He wanted to say more, to try to explain the reasons behind his inability to reciprocate your feelings. But he knew that it would only make matters worse. So, he just squeezed your hand tighter, "Sure doll," he said softly. "Just us, as friends."

You softly chuckled “Doll,” you repeated “You never stopped calling me that.” Jason forced a smile, his heart aching at the familiarity of the nickname. It was one of the many reminders of your closeness, a testament to the deep bond you shared.

"Old habits die hard, I guess," he said. The irony of the nickname suddenly weighed heavily on him. Doll was a term of endearment, a term that typically invoked feelings of love. And yet here he was, the person who had never been able to feel those things for you, calling ypu ‘doll.’

"I probably should stop callin’ you that," he said quietly. "No," you said quickly, not wanting to cause more pain than either of you were already experiencing. "I like it. It's... comforting, coming from you."

"If you're sure," he said quietly. You smiled softly, trying to reassure him that it was genuinely alright. "Yeah, I'm sure," you said, your voice full of genuine affection. "It's our thing, right? Don't overthink it."

He wanted to believe that things could continue as they were between the two of you, that he could still hold onto the one person who meant more to him than anything else in the world. "Okay, doll," he said, his voice cracking slightly, "If that's what you want. We'll keep it our thing."

When you come back home, you quietly weep. You don't know what you’re crying for.

"I don’t think I could love him more..." you whispered to yourself between sobs. The depth of your feelings for him was overwhelming, but the fact that he didn't feel the same way left you feeling empty and defeated.

Your mind was swirling with conflicting thoughts. Part of you wanted to keep the relationship as it was, grateful for the intimacy and companionship you shared. Another part of you wrestled with the frustration and pain of a one-sided love. Each tear that fell felt like a small piece of your heart breaking, but you couldn't bring yourself to walk away. Despite the pain, Jason meant the world to you, and the thought of losing him was unbearable.

🦢 hello guys? did you cry? i didn’t haha, please like and reblog! discord server.

[xf-cases-solved]

i fucking love how watching xfiles in order gives you such insane emotional whiplash

like for example, s1 you have ice, this amazing "the thing"-esque thriller, immediately followed by space, which is probably top ten least memorable episodes in the world. beyond the sea has so many emotional beats and insane levels of acting skill, immediately followed by fucking gender bender lmfao. the absolute mindfuck of having the duane barry/ascension/one breath trio interrupted by the 14 year old emo kid's vampiric wet dream that is 3??? unparalleled levels of unhinged decision making in that production room

anyway, i just watched colony/end game, and it ends with that poignant scene between mulder and scully in the hospital, after she put on such a demonstration of loyalty and love by ignoring his wishes and going after him and saving his life, and mulder finishes the scene by talking about how he has renewed faith in his search for truth despite his heartbreak, and it's beautiful bc in the end, isn't loyalty, love, and faith what this show is all about? -cue credits-

then "watch next episode" pops up and

it is the one with the invisible gorilla

this shit sure does keep you on your toes, huh?

[melmedarda]

In defense of Sevika.

I happened upon a post not too long ago saying that Sevika was not cool as a character, she was overrated. The person asked what was so great about her. And in the comments only said she was hot. Buff. Tall and dark-skinned. Surface stuff. And it irritated me to no end that Arcane fans are so shallow as to reduce Sevika to how attractive they find her. It makes sense when you look at her tag.

There's never anything of substance, only x reader fics, and thinly veiled fetishization. No character study, hardly any analysis of her role in the story of Arcane. The story of Zaun. It's a trend I'm seeing, characters being reduced to an object of desire and fetishized in the tags. (It's okay to find a character attractive, but when the only thing you can say to someone is that the character is hot when asked why you like them??? :/) But that's not what I'm here to talk about.

In defense of Sevika, she is more than her looks. She is strength, she is struggle, she is visionary. Yes, she is attractive but there's so much more to her. Think of her loyalty and love for Zaun. It is UNPARALLELED. Her dedication to the city that raised her defines her.

Sevika is multifaceted and literally THE driving force in Zaun. She makes things happen. Sevika is an echo of Mel, in that she is Zaun's kingmaker. She made Silco, and unmade Vander. She is objective, and she is capable of seeing what needs to be done, and the potential in a person for getting it done.

Sevika's loyalty is to her city, and if she believes in you, she will give you her influence. Her Might. Just like Mel believed in Jayce and granted him the funding and power needed to fulfill his vision, is that same person in Zaun. Only, her currency is fear, respect, blood on her fist. Her ability to rally those around her and inspire them.

At most Silco simply uses her as his enforcer, and I really believe Sevika is capable of more than just being a follower and catering the every need of other characters. She has a tendency to protect the things she cares about with her body because that's all she has. She jumped before Silco, to protect him from the blast. She protected Jinx and Isha with her body without a second thought. She is selfless if she believes in someone, their use for the cause of Zaun. Season 1 really had her in a box, and season 2 seemed to give her more agency, until she was used as a prop for Jinx. That irks me to no end. More than anything, she wants a united Zaun, and I believe the show ending on with Sevika on the Council was a disservice to her arc, but she's front as center, fighting for her city as she was always meant to be.

Please, appreciate her more. She has a story worth thinking about, she is a character worth understanding.

[no1onepiecefan]

i adore how zoro and luffy are oftentimes put on an equal level.

like initially, their main parallels exist in shanks and mihawks. even if you remove their connections to zoro and luffy, both interpersonal and as their heroes/fated rivals/some indescribable in between, and how eventually both of zoro and luffy’s narratives will circle back to them respectively; they are blatant parallels to one another on even a character trait level. mihawk and shanks, who were always equally matched in combat, are zoro and luffy's counterparts.

next is how they are each other's weaknesses. luffy is famously, and terrifyingly, susceptible to cutting attacks. after the strawhats have achieved their goals, in concept, luffy's ultimate weakness would be zoro; the world's greatest swordsman. luffy's first mate is his achilles heel. but of course that will never matter, because what would have been his ultimate threat is his strongest companion, his most devote follower, of whom there is no one he trusts more to eternally stand by his side. zoro is equivalent; he is a power focused fighter, strong and fatal, and luffy is agile and inventive, his natural opposite.

additionally is how their dreams balance. luffy, the captain, and his dream that yearns for unparalleled freedom. zoro, the swordsman, who's dream aches for untouchable power. zoro facilitates and protects luffy's dream of ultimate freedom, using his drive of power to be his dearest soldier. while luffy catalysed zoro's direction and puts him in positions to closer attain ultimate strength every day, whereas he existed in limbo without him. luffy's drive of freedom rid zoro of his aimlessness.

lastly, there are so many small moments where they are intended to be viewed as coequal, something closer to partners. them both dying in onigashima then waking up in the same moment, them both being supernovas, kuma accepting zoro's life instead of luffy; equating them in value in thriller bark, them both having supreme king haki, etc. is there nothing more indicative of being equals than two conquerors, harmonious together?

i think a lot of it stems from how zoro's devotion is an outlier. zoro's devotion, at it's foundations, is something so precious because he doesn't need to be luffy's follower, but he wants to be. every enemy pre-timeskip is confused that zoro is the one taking orders, his sheer power and 'kingly qualities' could make him an infamous captain in his own right, and that's a constant theme in his worship. zoro wants to follow, he loves answering to and trusting luffy to make the decisions that's best for them. if zoro had the gnaw for leadership he would thrive doing so, and that makes his loyalty all the more momentous. they could be equals, and there are so many subtle moments where they are shown to be as such, but zoro doesn't want that. he happily stands on the stair beneath luffy just to have the privilege of being allowed to look up at him.

i adore how zoro and luffy are oftentimes put on an equal level, but zoro chooses to revere and follow regardless.

[eratosmusings]

Loyalty (II)

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!reader

summary: your husband returns to consummate your marriage

warnings: adults only, all characters over 18, smut, oral (fem receiving), piv, arranged marriage, manipulation, abortion allusion (moon tea), lot of religious references

word count: 2.4k

previous chapter / dividers

Daemon takes more than an hour to return. Handmaids came in his absence. They take the pins from your hair, bring fresh water and fragranced soap for a quick wash before leaving you in a single shift made of silk. You pace the stone floor as it grows cold from the dying fire. Why has he not returned?

The fire dims and dims until it is no more than a low red glow in the hearth. The silk is frigid against your skin. It chafes against your breasts in a way that has you squirming. Your husband finally returns. It appears he too has bathed and changed. Gone is his embroidered jacket and red sleeves, replaced with a simple white shirt and a simple robe hanging off his shoulders. His hair is damp and a floral scent wafts from him as he approaches.

“I’d thought you’d be in bed,” he says. 

You attempt a smile, though you fear it appears more as a grimace. Guilt weighs too heavy on the corners of your lips. The wait was intolerable but as is knowing how imminent the act is. Knowing what you must do on the morrow. “Is that where you wish me to be, my prince?”

He frowns. “I had only meant I’d thought you’d be asleep.” His eyes dart over you, only to return to and linger where the peaks of your breasts stab into the shift. "Is that all they gave you to wear, jaesa?" He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “You must be freezing.” He pulls the robe from his shoulders and comes to drape it over your own. 

More kindness that you do not deserve. You bow your head. “Thank you, my prince.”

He tisks and turns his attention to the dying fire. “Such formality.” He lowers and begins to arrange new logs over the embers. “We are married now, you must call me something more fitting. Daemon would do well.” He takes a piece of kindling and allows it to catch fire before placing it on top. “Or dear husband, perhaps.” He looks back at you. “Valzȳrys if you’d like to truly capture my heart.”

“Valzȳrys?” It slips out before the rest of his words register as you meet his lilac gaze.

“Wonderful pronunciation,” he murmurs approvingly, standing. “It means husband in Valyrian.” The fire spreads, growing brighter and casting him in its warm glow. It strikes you, rather harshly, that Daemon Targaryen is unparalleled in his beauty. You've always thought him handsome, but in the light of a blaze he is breathtaking.

“I shall try to remember,” you say through the lump in your throat. If you can never allow him children, at least you will give him the allusion of a good, dutiful wife.

His head cocks appraisingly to the side. “Come.” Your feet obey. The warmth of the fire joins the heat beginning to prickle across your skin. His gaze is searching as you come to stand in front of him and you can’t tear your eyes away. “Why wait for me to return?”

Your brows furrow at the question. It’s answer so obvious. “We have yet to consummate our marriage.”

“I did not consummate my last.” His hand comes to toy with the collar of the robe. “I refused the bedding ceremony this evening.” There’s humor in his tone. “Perhaps I did not intend to bed you at all.”

You try to match his easy banter, though there's a tremor in your voice. "Perhaps the sun will rise in the west and set in the east."

He laughs and the sound sends a flutter through your chest. What a beautiful sound. "Do you think I as wanton as a whore?”

"No!" Your hands reach for him, taking hold of his arm. It is solid in your grasp.  "I am sorry, my prince, I did not intend offense."

He laughs again, eyes crinkling. "I merely jest. Your only offense is your continued use of ‘my prince.’”

"Valzȳrys," you offer with relief, letting go of his arm, “I shall do better.”

“My sweet wife,” his other hand comes to hold your face as the first continues to fidget with the robe, “so eager to please.”

Your lips part, but the words die as his fingers follow down the edge of the robe and brush the raised peak of your breast. The sensation, torturous and intoxicating, has you gasping. He takes the distraction as invitation and captures your mouth in a harsh, bruising kiss. Your fingers curl against the cloth of his shirt. Neither to push him away nor pull him closer, but to find a tether in the unfamiliar depths his touch has plunged you into.

He pulls back slowly. Lips plush, pupils blown wide. Hands cupping your breast, thumbs stroking the peaks. Overwhelming, sinful need steals your thoughts. Your eyes squeeze shut. You can't breathe. Your entire focus is on remaining standing. 

"Tell me, jaesa, have you ever touched yourself here before?"

Speech is too difficult. Your head shakes.

"Have you ever dreamt of it?"

Another shake. You had not known it could be used for pleasure. Air greets your lung like a knife when one of his touches disappears.

"How about here?" A hand dips under the hem of your shift, skims along your thighs.

You shake again.

His nose edges along your jaw. "Here? His fingers glide along the apex.

You jolt. No. Never. The words don't make it past your lips. They're trapped somewhere in the shock, the pleasure.

"No?" He speaks for you, his voice low, laced in fond mockery. "What a pure, untouched thing you are, jaesa." His mouth meets yours again. This time his kiss is slower. A whimper leaves you, unbidden, when his tongue sweeps against your bottom lip. His touch continues to move along your most intimate of places. It’s intoxicating.

He draws back, forehead pressing against yours. His breathing is heavy, matching yours. “Now I wish for you to be on the bed.” 

The air feels like ice as he steps away, leaving you bereft of his warmth. You turn, seeking the bed, and stumble forward. Your toe catches on the edge of a table. The pain is sharp and you nearly drop to the floor.

Daemon's arms wrap around you. "Careful."

His touch is maddening. "Yes, valzȳrys."

There's a sound that seems to stick in his throat. Your feet are no longer on the ground. "The bed, jaesa." A surprised giggle leaves as you fall back on the bed. It's plush, more so than your own. And warm. Daemon climbs over you, bracing his weight on his forearms. The firelight casts his features in a soft glow, giving the illusion of gentleness.

He presses his lips against yours, hungry. Your hands cling to his arms. A small moan vibrates from him. There's a firmness pressing into the apex of your thighs. The pressure is nearly as wonderful as his fingers had been. You arch towards him. He presses back.

Then he's gone. Your mouth falls open in protest, a small sound escaping. Daemon sits on the edge of the bed. He’s smug as he tugs off the simple shirt. He stands and drops his trousers, revealing more of his toned physique. Your cheeks burn. His member, juts up proudly. You swallow and avert your gaze. Surely, that cannot fit inside of you.

"Does my cock offend you?"

"No," you say quickly. "It is," your mouth sticks like you'd eaten too much honeyed bread, "large."

He laughs boisterously. "You will find, sweet wife, that it is a gift." He kneels back on the bed, his hands grasping at the hem of your shift. Your eyes snap up. His dance with mischief. "May I remove this?"

Your throat is dry. You nod. The fabric lifts. Your limbs move as they're told. You help him rid you of the silk. The air is cold.

"Beautiful."

Your body trembles under his gaze.

"Lie back."

Your body obeys. His hands slide down your thighs, pushing them apart. Then he is between your legs, kissing his way up your inner thigh. Your mind reels. No one had told you this part. When his mouth finally meets the place his fingers had toyed with earlier, you wonder how anyone could not enjoy this.

A gasp fills the air. Your hands fly to his head, tangling in his hair. Divinity lies between his teeth.

"I have decided," he whispers against your flesh, “that your taste is far better than any berry’s.”

Your hips roll of their own accord. He groans, his grip tightening on your thighs. Then he is back to licking. Your eyes screw shut and your hands grip tighter. There’s a pressure building. The tightness nearly unbearable.

"Valzȳrys," the plea is breathless. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but he must. 

He hums and the vibrations have you bucking. His mouth continues its silent prayers. Your eyes beg to close, but the glow of his lilac gaze refuses such a sin. He watches, equally as enraptured, as he pushes you higher and higher. Ecstasy. You cannot breathe, cannot move. His name, his title, every version of him, is on your tongue, begging. The pressure cracks your walls until they crumble and it is blasphemy that leaves your lips. A moment passes with the wave that follows and then another, your body trembling. The pleasure is slow to subside. His tongue has eased, but continues with languid strokes. Warmth tingles across all of you. His eyes have not given you leave.

Slowly his mouth leaves your sex. A whine leaves you at the loss. "Are you well, sweet wife?" His mouth glistens and the bed shifts as he crawls over you.

"Mhmm," you reply, letting your hands fall from his hair. More than well.

His lips curve, pleased, as they meet yours. They taste nothing near as sweet as a berry. Something presses against you. His member—his cock as he called it. His lips travel down your neck. "Are you ready?"

This is where the pain shall be. Perhaps so terrible it makes all you've done forgettable. There's no other reason you can think of that women would hate it after the pleasure you'd just received. But it is duty. At least, you must keep the appearance of it. You take a deep breath and nod. "Yes, Valzȳrys."

He presses forward and the stretch is uncomfortable. He pushes and a burn begins that makes you squirm. There's a pause."Forgive me," he breathes then his mouth returns to yours. A sharp, awful pain tears through you as his hips slam forward. Your vision blurs with the sting of tears. Your nails dig into his arms.

"The worst is over," he promises

You nod at his falsehood, still unable to see, and attempt to slow your breathing. It is for naught as the pain continues with the movement of his hips. The gods punishment for your sins, even the ones you've yet to truly commit. He whispers something that could be an apology and kisses the tears from your cheeks. You do not say anything. To suffer this for him is your duty.

"Breathe, jaesa. Just breathe."

You force yourself to match his rhythm. Breathing deep, his steady strokes begin to dull the ache. The tenseness in your muscles begin to release. There is some pleasure hidden beneath the discomfort.

"That's it," he encourages, his hand snaking between you.

You cry out as he circles his fingers sending a new wave of ecstasy through you. It spreads like Wildfire. You don't understand. It's supposed to be awful. How can it feel so wonderful?

"I am not a man of patience," he lets his forehead rest against yours, "but these sounds were worth the wait."

"Valzȳrys," your eyes shut and the pleasure builds. It drowns out any lingering discomfort. Only cries of prayers and profanities filling the room as his movements grow more erratic.

His breath stutters. It sounds as if he curses in Valyrian, though you cannot be sure. Then he stops, retreats, and leaves you painfully empty. Something warm and heavy falls across your stomach in thick strings. Your eyes open to his. Breathing ragged. Hair damp with sweat. He presses a kiss against your temple. "I shall bring the basin."

Your brow furrows. "Are we done?" Your body still tingles, tense again. Anticipation rather than pain.

His eyes crinkle but he says nothing, climbing from the bed. Your eyes stay glued to him. It's an enticing view. He returns to the bed with the basin in hand and sits beside where you lay. You know that the seed should sit for a while before it's cleaned away to ensure it takes. That's what the Septa had said. You do not repeat it to Daemon.

The rag is cold and your gasp at the contact leaves your husband issuing a humored apology. He wipes between your legs first, tinging the rag red, before cleaning the seed from your stomach in short, slow swipes. When satisfied, he sets the bowl on the floor and lays beside you. You wonder how you'll be able to sleep when your body still pulses with desire.

"Straddle my face."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Straddle my face," he repeats, "as if you were mounting a horse."

You think you understand the intention, but it seems unnecessarily dangerous. Could he not simply lie between your legs again? "But I will hurt you." Or suffocate him

"You will not."

He helps guide your leg across him, settling your knees on either side of his head. "Lower yourself, do not deny me your taste," he commands. His hands grip your thighs and you obey. He groans. The sound is muffled and then his mouth is back on your sex.

It is different. Not better, not worse, but different. Your body sings and hands fist in his hair. Your husband's tongue is skilled. A blessing instead of the curse you'd been told. For he has you quaking in only a few flicks. Pleasure courses through you like lightning. Yes, his years in pleasure houses were as divinely ordained as your years kneeling in the Sept. Your chest heaves as he coaxes out a final shudder.

When you can breathe again, he grins at you from between your thighs. The image deserves its own depiction in stained glass. "Now, I believe we are done."

any commentary & reblogs are appreciated! 🌺

join my taglist

[mickyschumacher]

hi!! could u an oscar smut wherein he's fooling with reader, making her supress her moans bcs the walls are thin, but in reality, they were soundproof (like his drivers room post-rough race for ex.) thank uuu

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝.

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑��: silverstone 2024 was a tough one for oscar. he needs a bit of relieving... some reassurance if you will.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors dni), mentions of silverstone 2024 if you couldn't tell, kissing, blowjob, technically unprotected even though it's not oral sex, pussy rubbing (?), fluff, insecure oscar :(

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: oscar piastri x girlfriend!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k

𝐀/𝐍: ugh loved doing this request! kinda took a bit of creative liberty but i hope you enjoyed it either way♡︎ // as usual, poorly proofread

𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Oscar hated Silverstone with a fucking passion.

He must say, it was a newfound passion but the enthusiasm he had for it was unparalleled.

He could've won.

His first Grand Prix. His team's home race. It would've been perfect.

But in the end, his pure loyalty and reliance on McLaren let him down. He should've boxed. Fuck, he knew that. Why didn't he just say it?

Oscar couldn't help but give tight smiles to his staff as he ventured towards his room, completely over the briefing they just had. He wasn't in the mood to play nice. Kim Needle, his trainer, was hot on his trail.

Abruptly, he stopped in between the papaya and black corridor, turning to meet the surprised face of his trainer. "Kim, listen, I just need some time alone... if that's alright," Oscar asked timidly, not wanting to be an asshole entirely.

Kim pursed his lips and nodded. "Whatever you need, mate. Just come out when you're done, okay? We'll get through this one."

Oscar nodded in response, giving him a thankful smile before continuing on. Upon opening the door, he couldn't be more relieved at the sight of you worriedly sitting on the small black couch.

"Osc," you said softly, standing up from the couch with a pained smile.

The driver simply returned the gesture, closing the door behind him. He eyed your open arms, laughing internally before welcoming the warm hug.

Oscar bit his lip, trying to prevent the string of sighs coming out but the soothing rubs of your hand on his back made it difficult. He could hear your muffled sorry, apologising for the rough day.

His hands around your waist tightened. "I... fuck, I should've done better," he admitted.

Your eyes widened, immediately pulling away from the comforting embrace, letting his hands still rest on your waist. You held his warm, tired face in your hands, sternly meeting his brown eyes. You could feel Oscar relax in your grasp. "Hey, no, no. Don't do that. You did so well, baby. Just give it some time, hmm? I know it was a shitty move but it's the first time in a while McLaren's had such a fast car–a winning car. No one's going to get this right immediately."

Oscar searched your eyes, feeling your fingers trace the etched in lines of his racing gear across his face. He never knew how you did it. And by 'it,' he meant the way you consoled people. He was secretly jealous of it. How did you always know the right thing to say? God, it was almost as infuriating as it was admirable.

You were worried Oscar had gone down a horrible spiral of some sorts with his unresponsive expression. But much to your surprise, your lips had found an answer before you could even think of one.

Your arms fell to his shoulders, hands hanging around his neck. Oscar's lips, often familiar, were lost in a more passionate haze, pulling you in closer towards him.

You think you were struggling to breathe. You weren't quite sure. You could hear strained breathing. Whether it was you or Oscar was a mystery. There was one thing you were certain of, however. The burning sensation travelling up your spine as his fingers grazed your bare hot skin under your shirt.

You gasped at the coldness of his touch, allowing Oscar to kiss you deeper, accessing your mouth fully with his tongue. A small moan travelled to your ears as your hands reached those brown locks.

You rasped Oscar's name, trying to pull away for some air but it was as if some ravenous monster had captured your boyfriend. Your neck tingled with feel of his lips pressing sloppy kisses down the base, hot breath sending goosebumps up your skin.

"Oscar," you said again, this time covering his lips with your hand. You watched as his lust-ridden eyes flickered to yours, both of your chests heaving desperately for air. You could tell he was wondering why you were stopping him, especially when you were enjoying it so much. "We'll get caught."

Oscar wanted laugh internally. While it may have been your first time trying something out in his driver's room, Oscar had spent one time too many with his hands on his cock, cumming to your name. He knew they were soundproof. God forbid, someone heard private matters or him screaming out of frustration on a bad race.

But you didn't need to know that.

"Guess you'll have to be quiet then. Can you do that for me, baby?"

You blinked blankly, throat dry all of sudden. Without a word, you nodded. Your knees almost buckled at the sinister grin on Oscar's face as he took you by the hand and sat you onto his lap.

Oscar looked up at you, smiling softly while tucking your hair behind your ears. "You look so pretty," he murmured, hands brushing your body ever so slightly. "All for me?"

"All for you," you whispered, pressing your lips onto his neck.

Oscar's head fell back and his eyes closed as you took your sweet time attacking his neck. Your kisses were soft, resisting the urge to mark his neck. All the words Oscar had learned in all his years of living were coiled at his throat. He could never think straight when you glided your lips across his Adam's apple. Nor when he could feel you nestled into his laps, creating bigger problems than he imagined.

You could feel his muscles tense as your hand slid down his shirt, stopping right at his v-line. Oscar opened his eyes, looking at the spot where your hand paused and thighs straddled him. He sucked in a sharp breath, looking at you with a pleading gaze.

You smiled. Under different circumstances, you would tease him. But you couldn't afford to tease. You didn't have the time to. Your hands crept to the waistband of his jeans, pulling down the material along with his boxers.

Oscar let out a low exhale at the feel of cold air brushing his semi-hard cock. He swallowed the saliva that had built up in his mouth as you sunk to your knees, hand gently grazing the tip of his cock. "Oh fuck," he hissed, eagerly watching you open your mouth to let strings of warm saliva drop onto his cock, hand wrapping around to rub the lube up and down his shaft.

Your tongue swiped the bottom of your lip before pressing a small kiss to his tongue, feeling Oscar's cock twitch in anticipation. Your mouth opened, lips stretching as you hollowed your throat, taking in his cock.

A quiet groan slipped out of Oscar's mouth upon the feel of your warmth spreading around his cock, almost disappearing into your mouth. He couldn't tell what was worse. The way your mouth felt or the way you looked up at him with those eyes.

Oscar's hand travelled to the back of your neck, gathering all your hair in one hand before twirling it around to tighten his grip. He sighed as you opened your throat up further, allowing him to guide his cock. "Such a good girl," he praised.

Your thighs clenched at the praise, holding back your moan. You could feel your head begin to move as he pushed his cock down your throat. You relaxed your cheeks and mouth, taking as much of him as you could.

Oscar averted his eyes from your mouth to your face. God you were just so pretty. Your big glassy eyes, skin flushed with traces of sweat, lips red, soft, and puffy while your fragrance lulled him.

A jolt was elicited out of Oscar's body upon the feel of your hands travelling towards his balls, taking the time to rub them gently as the pace of your mouth began to speed up.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, muscles tensing while the tingling feeling at the pit of his stomach began to bubble. Reluctantly, no matter how insane you were driving him, Oscar pulled you away, heavily breathing. "I need you," he immediately said.

Without too much thinking, you were standing and undoing your own pants, letting Oscar partially pass away as the sight of your wet panties.

Instinctively, Oscar's hands reached for your waist, thumb moving to graze your covered wet folds, satisfied at the jerk of your body as he brushed your clit. He reached to grab his cock before he felt your hand on his wrist.

"Oscar," you called urgently.

"What?" He almost said painfully, knowing very well that you knew he had put off his own climax.

You winced, almost apologetic to what you were about to say. "We don't have a condom."

Oscar blinked at your words, head slumping down. Fuck. Of course... of course you didn't. As much as he loved children and especially if they were with you, he didn't have any idea of them any time soon.

But he did have a better idea.

Oscar snapped his head back up, standing up to lie you down on the couch.

"Osc, what are you–"

"Trust me, this is going to sound stupid and I'm going to feel thirteen all over again, but just trust me."

Before you could respond, you could see Oscar hovering over you with the greediest desperation. You took a sharp breath as he pulled your underwear to the side and hooked his cock underneath, flushed against your folds.

Slowly, rather than pushing into you, he rubbed his cock between your folds, letting the tip of his cock skim your clit.

"Oh fu–" you quickly covered your mouth, moaning into your forearm, teeth biting down on your lip as you remembered those thin walls.

Oscar knew exactly how you felt. It was stupid and almost childish to do but the feeling of his cock against your folds, bordering going in, receiving the vibrations of your convulsing body as he circled your clit drove him to depths of insanity he never knew he had.

He moved to remove your arm, hearing your refusal as he thrust his hips against you. "Let me hear you, baby. It doesn't matter."

You didn't understand what he meant but you couldn't do anything but fall apart, almost weeping at the way his cock felt against your pussy.

"Fuck," you sobbed out, own hips bucking faster as you chased your climax. It was hard, coming in waves while Oscar drove you higher with his thumb on your clit, moving ever so slowly.

"That's it, come on," Oscar cajoled, letting you ride out your high as he restrained himself from cumming right there and then. As much was he wanted to, he really couldn't.

He called your name, bringing you back to reality with his own desperation. You smiled sweetly, opening your mouth as Oscar's hand wrapped around his cock, moving up and down his shaft with an urgent speed.

You could hear the loud rasp of Oscar's while his hips stuttered, spilling his warm cum into your mouth. Without wasting a second, his hands travelled to your face and brought your lips to his, tasting himself on his tongue.

"Well done," Oscar said, "I'm proud of you." He pressed a soft kiss to the side of your lips as he brought you into a hug.

"Hey! That was my line," you complained, narrowing your eyes playfully making him laugh quietly to himself.

"Thank you though. For making me feel better. Before and well, this," he whispered with a wide smile.

You pursed your lips. "Anything for you, Osc. Just don't think about it too much, okay? I always worry what goes on in that sweet little head of yours."

Oscar laughed again, reaching over to grab your pants. He watched you put a leg into them before you paused, making him raise a brow.

"I thought you said the walls were–"

"Uh, uh," Oscar cut off, gesturing for the second leg of your pants. "Just don't think about it too much," he repeated with a cheeky grin.

You gaped, suddenly clicking two and two together. "Oscar! You little shit!"

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[zaerilyn]

Turbulent Waters

Jiyan x Female!Reader

Warnings: Smut, Porn With Plot, Reader-Insert, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Sex, Childhood Friends, Romance, A Bit of Fluff

Summary: The unexpected return of General Geshu Lin and swirling rumors about Y/N's connection with him test the unspoken feelings between Jiyan and Y/N. Long-buried emotions erupt in a heated confrontation, pushing Jiyan to face his love and fears head-on. Amid the resulting tension and misunderstandings, a fervent confession emerges, culminating in a passionate encounter that forever alters their relationship.

Or basically,

Jiyan’s been secretly crushing on his childhood friend since forever. Then he finally snaps one night after hearing rumors about you and Geshu Lin getting freaky.

The campfire’s flickering glow painted the shadows of soldiers onto the walls of the tents around you. The chatter was alive with discussions of strategy, victories, and idle gossip. Jiyan’s presence commanded respect among the men, his stoic nature and tactical brilliance earning their loyalty.

You walked through the camp with your medical bag, your mind focused on the task at hand. General Geshu Lin had returned from his mysterious absence, wounded and needing your expertise. As the head doctor, your reputation for unparalleled medical skill and your willingness to step into the battlefield were well-known among the troops. Often, you worked late into the night, tending to injuries with a deft hand and a caring heart. Your dedication had earned you the respect and admiration of many, including Jiyan, your childhood friend and now the general.

From a young age, you and Jiyan had been inseparable, growing up in the same village and training together. Over the years, your bond had deepened into something more complex. While your teasing often veiled genuine affection, the weight of your respective responsibilities and unspoken fears kept both of you from confessing your true feelings. Jiyan, in particular, struggled with the burden of his role, fearing that any deeper connection might bring you pain if he were to fall in battle.

You had just finished stitching a soldier’s wound when a familiar voice called out to you.

“Y/N!” Jiyan’s deep voice reached you through the din.

You turned to see him striding towards you, his expression as unreadable as ever, but with a flicker of something you couldn't quite place.

“Jiyan,” you greeted, flashing a quick smile. “I’m on my way to check on Geshu Lin. He needs some attention.”

His jaw tightened slightly at the mention of Geshu Lin. “I’ll accompany you,” he said, falling into step beside you.

“Jiyan, you know I can handle this,” you said softly, glancing at him. “I’ve done it countless times.”

He shook his head, determination etched on his face. “I know. But I’m coming with you anyway.”

The path to Geshu Lin’s tent was quiet, the sounds of the camp fading as you approached the general’s quarters. Jiyan’s presence was a comforting weight beside you, though you could sense the tension radiating from him. Usually, Jiyan was not one to interfere with your work. He respected your medical expertise, often admiring your dedication and skill. He had once dabbled in medical training himself, understanding the crucial role you played. His protectiveness tonight was unusual, spurred by the whispers among the soldiers and the sight of you heading towards Geshu Lin.

When you reached the tent, Jiyan hesitated outside, giving you a look that was both protective and conflicted. You stepped inside, finding Geshu Lin reclining on a cot, his torso bare and bandaged.

“General,” you greeted, setting down your bag and moving to his side.

Geshu Lin gave you a weary smile. “Y/N, just the person I was hoping to see. How have you been?”

You began to check General Geshu Lin's bandages with practiced efficiency. Your fingers moved deftly, unwrapping the old gauze to inspect the healing wounds on his torso. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated his muscular build, and you could see the edges of the scar tissue starting to form.

“Busy, as always. Let’s see how you’re healing.”

You examined the wound, carefully cleaning it with antiseptic. The sharp scent filled the air as you dabbed at the raw edges with a soft cloth, your brow furrowing in concentration.

“You have quite the delicate touch, Y/N. I can see why you're the head doctor. It’s reassuring to have someone so skilled attending to my injuries.” He winced slightly as you applied a fresh bandage, securing it with precise movements. His muscles tensed under your touch, but he remained composed, his eyes studying your face.

“Just doing my job. Try to avoid any strenuous activity for a few more days. The wound’s healing well, but it still needs time.”

As you worked, you couldn't shake the feeling of Jiyan's presence just outside the tent. His familiar aura seemed to permeate the air, adding a layer of tension to the enclosed space.

Geshu Lin’s eyes glinted with a mischievous light as he watched you, leaning back slightly to give you more access to his wound.

“You know,” he said casually, a smirk playing on his lips, “Jiyan seems rather protective of you. Quite the guard dog, isn’t he?”

You glanced up, surprised by his comment, your hands pausing briefly in their task. “He’s just looking out for me.”

Geshu Lin chuckled, the sound low and slightly mocking. “Is that what you think? I’d be careful, Y/N. Someone might snatch you away if he’s not careful.”

His gaze lingered on you, filled with a subtle challenge. The way he spoke to you, with a flirtatious undertone and easy familiarity, unsettled you slightly. You could sense the underlying tension between him and Jiyan, the rivalry simmering beneath their polite interactions. You finished applying the bandage and pulled away, your eyes meeting his briefly before you stood up.

Before you could respond to his insinuations, the tent flap rustled, and Jiyan entered with a controlled intensity. His eyes narrowed as he took in the scene, your proximity to Geshu Lin and the casual atmosphere between you two.

“Am I interrupting something?” His voice carried a restrained edge, the calm before a storm.

Geshu Lin smirked, a knowing gleam in his eyes as he noticed Jiyan's reaction. He shifted slightly, exaggerating the nonchalant attitude.

“Just receiving some excellent medical care, General.” His tone was smooth, almost taunting. “Y/N here has been doing an admirable job.”

You quickly shook your head, sensing the brewing confrontation. “No, Jiyan. Just finishing up here.”

Jiyan’s gaze flicked to Geshu Lin, a muscle ticking in his jaw. His eyes then softened slightly when they met yours, but the tension in his posture remained evident.

“We need to talk. Now.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. He reached out, his grip on your arm assertive but not harsh, guiding you out of the tent. The night air hit you as you stepped outside, and you could feel the storm brewing beneath Jiyan’s composed exterior.

As you walked away, you caught a glimpse of Geshu Lin's smirk, a triumphant light in his eyes. He watched you both leave, clearly satisfied with the effect his words had on Jiyan. The sense of rivalry was palpable, his earlier words echoing in your mind and adding to the weight of the situation.

Jiyan led you away from Geshu Lin's tent with a firm grip on your arm, the urgency in his steps matching the storm brewing in his eyes. He didn’t stop until you reached the dimly lit interior of his own tent, the flap falling shut behind you. The space felt immediately more intimate, with the scent of burning candles mingling with the earthy aroma of the canvas walls.

He finally released your arm and turned to face you, his eyes dark with a mix of anger and frustration.

“Jiyan, what’s going on?” Confusion laced your voice as you tried to understand his sudden agitation.

He stopped abruptly in the center of the tent, turning to you with a fierce intensity.

“Do you realize what people are saying about you and Geshu Lin?” His voice was low and intense, each word biting into the charged air between you.

Your brow furrowed in bewilderment. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard the men talking,” he said, his eyes blazing. “They think… They think there’s something between you and him. They’re saying he’s lucky to have you visiting him late at night.”

You blinked, taken aback by his words. “That’s absurd. I’m just treating his injuries.”

His expression hardened, his frustration clear. “Is that all?” he demanded. “Because it doesn’t look that way to them. Or to me.”

Indignation flushed your cheeks. “How dare you? I’m clearly only doing my job. Just because he’s my patient doesn’t mean there’s anything else going on.”

Jiyan’s eyes softened for a moment before hardening again, a conflict of emotions playing across his face. “I know you, Y/N. But I can’t stand the thought of you with him. Of him thinking he has a claim on you.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest.

“What are you saying, Jiyan?”

He took a step closer, his hands gripping your shoulders, his touch firm yet filled with a desperate intensity.

“I’m saying I can’t lose you. I won’t.” His words hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken emotions. You searched his face, seeing the raw vulnerability in his eyes.

“Jiyan,” you said softly, your voice trembling, “I’ve always been here. I’m not going anywhere.”

A flicker of relief crossed his features, but it was soon replaced by a fierce determination.

“I can’t stand seeing you with him, hearing those things. I…” His voice trailed off, and he seemed momentarily lost.

You took a step closer, your heart aching at the conflict you saw in him. “If you want me, you just have to say it.”

His eyes locked onto yours, and before you could react, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. Your hands flew to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through his clothes.

The kiss deepened, a raw, unrestrained intensity igniting between you. Jiyan’s hands roamed over your back, pulling you closer, his touch both demanding and tender. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed yourself against him.

Jiyan’s tent became a cocoon of heightened emotions and physical desire, the soft glow of candles casting flickering shadows on the canvas walls. His usual stoic demeanor had shattered, replaced by a primal need that matched your own.

His hands moved to unfasten the ties of your tunic, each movement deliberate and urgent. You mirrored his actions, your fingers fumbling with the fastenings of his uniform, peeling away the layers that separated your bodies. The cool air of the tent brushed against your heated skin, heightening your senses.

As you both shed the last of your clothing, the intimacy of the moment deepened. Jiyan’s gaze was intense, his eyes tracing the contours of your body with a mix of awe and hunger. He guided you towards the sturdy wooden table in the center of the tent, the coarse surface pressing against your abdomen as he positioned you with your belly flat against it.

Your body trembled with anticipation, your senses heightened by the unfamiliar position. Jiyan stood behind you, his hands exploring the soft curves of your hips, the firmness of your back. He leaned over you, his chest brushing against your back, his breath hot against your ear.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growled, his voice rough with need. “Me, claiming you from behind, making you mine?”

A shiver of anticipation ran down your spine. Your response was a breathless moan, your hands gripping the edges of the table as you arched your back slightly, offering yourself to him.

“Yes,” you gasped. “I want all of you.”

His eyes darkened with a fierce possessiveness. He aligned himself with your entrance, the tip of his erection pressing against your slick folds. The anticipation made your body tense, the heat between your thighs intensifying.

He entered you slowly, the initial stretch sending a shockwave of pleasure and slight discomfort through you. Your body adjusted quickly, accommodating his size as he pushed deeper. You gasped, your fingers gripping the table’s edge tightly, your hips instinctively pushing back against him to take him fully.

Jiyan’s movements were deliberate at first, his hips rocking gently as he set a rhythm. Each thrust sent ripples of pleasure through your body, the friction of his length against your inner walls intensifying the sensation. He began to move faster, his breathing growing ragged, his need evident in the urgency of his thrusts.

You matched his pace, your hips lifting to meet his, creating a rhythm that was both urgent and perfectly attuned to each other. The table creaked beneath you, a steady counterpoint to the rising symphony of your moans and gasps.

He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your back as he slid a hand around to cup one of your breasts. His fingers teased your nipple, the combination of sensations making your body arch into his touch. His other hand moved to grip your hip, holding you steady as he increased the intensity of his thrusts.

His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve, his breath warm against your ear.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he demanded, his voice a low, rough whisper. His teeth grazed your earlobe, sending a shiver down your spine. “Say it.”

The pressure built within you, coiling tighter with each passing moment. Your climax was imminent, the tension in your body reaching a fever pitch.

“I’m yours,” you cried out, your voice breaking. “Only yours.”

The admission seemed to ignite something in him. His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving you higher. His hand slid down your body, his fingers finding the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. He rubbed it in time with his thrusts, the combined stimulation pushing you over the edge.

The intensity of his words, combined with the relentless assault on your senses, sent you spiraling into climax. Your body tensed, and you cried out his name as the wave of your orgasm crashed over you. The pleasure was so intense that it left you trembling, every nerve ending alight with sensation.

Jiyan followed moments later, a deep groan escaping him as he found his release. You felt the pulsating warmth of his ejaculation filling you, his body tensing above you as he drove into you one last time, then collapsing onto you in a spent, panting heap. The connection between you pulsed with the remnants of your shared ecstasy, the room filled with the sound of your mingled breaths.

With a gentle, yet firm motion, Jiyan lifted you from the table, your body still sensitive and trembling from the intense experience. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, your head resting against his chest as he carried you across the tent. The big-sized cot in the corner awaited, a simple but welcoming reprieve after the raw intensity of your encounter.

Jiyan laid you down on the cot with a care that belied the ferocity of his earlier actions. The coarse blanket beneath you felt cool against your heated skin. He joined you, lying down beside you, his arms wrapping around you protectively. The proximity allowed you to feel the steady beat of his heart against your back, a comforting rhythm that helped soothe the lingering intensity within you.

Your breathing synchronized with his as you nestled against him, feeling the solid warmth of his body and the lingering glow of your climax. You reached up to cup his cheek, your fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw. Jiyan’s eyes softened, a look of tender affection replacing the earlier passion.

As you lay there, the sounds outside the tent slowly filtered back into your awareness. The quiet murmur of the camp, the occasional footsteps of patrolling soldiers—sounds that had been completely drowned out by the fervor of your connection. You realized that your earlier cries had likely been heard by those outside, a fact that made your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and pride.

Jiyan seemed to read your thoughts. A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes as he tightened his arms around you, his breath warm against your ear.

“I made sure they heard,” he said, his voice a low, satisfied murmur. “Let them know you’re mine. Let them hear your pleasure.”

You blinked, taken aback by his admission. Your heart raced as you processed his words. This side of Jiyan—bold, possessive, deliberately exposing your intimacy—was completely at odds with the gentle, respectful friend you had always known. His usual demeanor was composed, his actions always measured and considerate. The idea that he would consciously ensure that others knew what was happening between you was both shocking and electrifying.

It then clicked. After all, you had tried to stifle your screams earlier, biting your lip to keep from making too much noise. But Jiyan had been relentless, finding ways to make you cry out despite your efforts. His hand had clamped over your mouth briefly, only to slide away as he increased the intensity of his movements, making it impossible for you to remain silent.

“You… you did that on purpose?” you asked with cheeks flushed red, barely able to believe this new side of him.

“I want everyone to know that you’re with me. That you’re mine.” His eyes locked onto yours with a possessive gleam.

“I didn’t know you had this side to you, General Jiyan,” you said in a teasing tone.

“There’s a lot you don’t know,” he replied, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“But you’ll learn. I want you to know all of me, Doctor.”

[curryshesus]

bts fics that give me life in a drought

(aka my favorite fics of all time) pt. 2

didn't expect to make a part 2 so soon but seeing how much recognition the first one got, here we are! some of these contain a hearty amount of angst, and oh they're just simply divine :( once again, please make sure to show your love and support to these lovely authors if you enjoyed any of these reads as much as i did!

➺ knife’s edge - by @readyplayerhobi

| jungkook x reader, jimin x reader | 141.8k

mafia au, fluff, angst, smut, violence, series

>> summary: "the jeon clan is family, built on blood and loyalty. it’s been an unspoken fact that one day you will marry the heir to the clan, jeon jungkook. you would be a fool to deny that you love him, but what happens when you meet a blue haired man who offers you a chance at normality?"

this fic absolutely BROKE ME. i was so conflicted all throughout and deadass went through all the 50 stages of grief. the angst was unparalleled. the fluff had me giggling like a madman cuz jk is an absolute sweetheart :( jimin is too :(( y/n is dumb and so is her situation :((( i cherish this fic sm

➺ novocaine - by @kinktae

| jimin x reader |

1990s au, exes au, angst, eventual smut, series

>> summary: "going home was hard – painful even. but falling back in love with jimin, the boy you left behind? downright gut-wrenching."

➺ ghostin him- by @adonis-koo

| namjoon x reader (taehyung x reader) | 26k

angst, angst, as well as angst. comfort too dw, one-shot

>> summary: "life is nothing more than dull colors for you, your world shattered and laying in the shards of what once was rather than focusing on what is. that is until you meet kim namjoon, who is immediately taken by you without realizing you’re a girl with a whole lot of baggage, through tears and many sleepless nights you’re faced with a choice of hanging on with bleeding hands, or accepting what is, and letting go."

ohmygod the writing hello? the amount of soul, depth, and sheer utter beauty in missy's words are beyond me. had me sobbing every other line and my heart aching all throughout and boy was it worth it.

➺ take five - by @jiminrings

| yoongi x reader | 10k

angst, fluff, unrequited love, pinning

summary: "dr. min yoongi's a board-certified dermatologist; skilled, renowned, and in-demand - oh and also, he's divorced."

➺ page turner - by @gukslut

| taehyung x reader | 13.6k

teacher!tae/ librarian!reader, fluff, smut, minor angst

summary: "corny romance and a zillion cheesy Romeo and Juliet quotes and references."

my tainted hopeless romantic heart ugh. they're so cute.

➺ bloom- by @hobidreams

| namjoon x reader | 20.7k

assassin!reader x florist!namjoon, smut, angst, action, sprinkles of fluff

>> summary: "family is who you kill for. who you die for. in this society, you and your kin are shadows, clinging to the darkness to obey orders absolute. but when such orders command you to abandon what little honor remains for wealth and notoriety, you find yourself lost in lonely uncertainty about the only vocation you’ve ever known. that is, until you meet a man with gentle hands, a poet’s heart, and a love for coaxing the world into bloom."

➺ counterfeit culture - by @ggukcangetit

| seokjin x reader | 29k

modern day au loosely based on jane austen’s pride & prejudice, e2l, fluff, smut, comedy

>>summary: “for as long as you can remember, you’ve always known right from wrong, good from bad, and woke from entitled/ignorant. but when you continue to cross paths with Kim Seokjin - the apparent antithesis of everything you believe in - certain walls begin to crumble. and over time, you come to realise that the world isn’t black and white, first impressions can be misleading, and that you are just as guilty as each person you’ve judged so harshly. realisation brings acceptance, and maybe, just maybe, acceptance can bring something more.”

➺ if i told you - by @gukyi

| jungkook x reader | 22k

friends to lovers!au, college!au, fluff, comedy, angst

>> summary: "in order to pay for university, jeon jungkook decides to market his most valuable asset to the wealthy socialites of campus: himself. donning a suit and tie, tousled hair, and glasses (to look smarter), he becomes every rich daughter’s dream: the perfect boyfriend to bring to balls, dinners, and business gatherings. all while you watch from the sidelines, only able to dream of having that much money to buy yourself what you really want: him."

➺ to hold a dragon's heart - by @softlyjiminie

| taehyung x reader | 19.1k

dragon prince!kim taehyung x warrior princess!reader, smut, angst, fluff, forbidden romance, dragon shifter!au, royalty!au, enemies to lovers!au

>> summary: "two kingdoms, two hearts and the world between them. your whole life has been a challenge, never an easy moment on your road to becoming queen but will one decision, one encounter with the man you were destined to hate, change the fate of your worlds, forever?"

[dinarosie]

Just a friendly reminder:

Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier died protecting Voldemort’s power and ideals. Severus Snape died opposing Voldemort’s tyranny, fighting to save the wizarding world and countless innocent lives.

In other words:

Barty Crouch Jr. and Evan Rosier gave their lives so their master could destroy more people. Severus Snape gave his life so more people could be saved.

Strange how some are quick to romanticize loyalty to evil, yet fail to honor the unparalleled bravery and selflessness of a man who spent 18 years risking everything to protect the innocent and fight for a better world.

[measlycrow]

the batfam winged au, but with what type of wings i think they would have and why.

Bruce, A Raven obviously, Ravens are intelligent, ominous, and symbolic of mystery and strategy. Their black feathers complement Bruce's dark and brooding persona. Their adaptability and cunning reflect his detective skills and resilience.

Dick, Swallow wings, Swallows often symbolize freedom, loyalty, and speed, matching decently to Dick’s acrobatic grace and free-spirited nature.

Jason, red bearded vulture, vulture wings represent survival and transformation, and death, it could serve to reflect Jason's resurrection and his morality when it comes to death, also i think the way they gain the red coloring on their heads could really match the whole red hood thing.

Tim, Falcon wings, Falcons are sharp-minded hunters, known for precision and problem-solving skills. Tim’s intelligence and meticulous planning fit perfectly with a bird known for its sharp focus, strategy and thinking.

Damian, Peregrine Falcon, Peregrine Falcons are the fastest birds, could symbolize Damian's skill and efficiency as a fighter. assassin, ect.

Barbara, Barn Owl wings, Barn owls are symbols of wisdom and clarity, Their silent flight mirrors Barbara’s resourcefulness and ability to operate from the back as Oracle, The elegance of their wings also suits her graceful and strategic nature.

Cassandra Cain, Black Kite, Black Kites are known for their acrobatic flight and ability to navigate complex environments, reflecting Cass's unparalleled combat skills and agility..

Stephanie Brown, Sparrow wings, sparrows are small but resilient, often underestimated but highly social and adaptable. This matches Stephanie’s determination, optimism, and ability to thrive in the face of challenges.

Alfred, bald Eagle wings, Eagles symbolize guardianship, wisdom, and strength, fitting Alfred’s role as the steadfast protector and father figure to the Batfam. His wings would have a regal presence, emphasizing his quiet but commanding influence, also just would be funny if the British guy had em.

Duke, Golden Eagle wings, Golden eagles are associated with sunlight and strength, aligning with Duke’s role as The Signal, operating during the day. Their wings convey a sense of majesty and independence, neat.

[smokinghorse]

LOYALTY The unparalleled devotion a Satellite has for his officer would make even the most well-trained guard dogs jealous. And if you couldn't follow him, you would wait at the end of that tethered leash until he either came home, or you died. You'd follow him to the afterlife. I feel like this one's pretty obvious. The lengths Jean goes to to check on Harry are incredible. Putting on a stupid wig every day in public for a week minimum to make him laugh, making Judit drive him all the way up there every day, pacing the jetty with anxiety, checking his mailbox religiously, waiting by Jule's station for him to call. You'd follow that man to the ends of the earth, wouldn't you? The trust you put in him is like that of a dog following his caretaker off a cliff. And you're both happy to do it. He's a guide dog, a hunting companion dog, a guard dog, an emotional support animal. Even in the "worst" ending, he still gives Harry another chance to sober up and work with him again, and the look back he gives Harry before leaving is truly dog-like. A dog, a loyal companion, leaving his incapable caretaker. It hurts him in ways he can't even verbalize