#and where it ultimately led him and his lover

[mercymaker]

do you think that considering astarion is a walking corpse, a vampire spawn destined to live in the shadows (even if he finds a way around the sunlight sensitivity), someone with insatiable hunger for blood and two centuries of brutal trauma, someone whose place in the society according to most norms is to be skewered by a monster hunter... is there a part of him, somewhere deep down that craves normalcy? i don't think that's his stance on this on most days, as he strikes me as someone who doesn't particularly mind being a vampire and tends to deal with whatever uncomfortable and painful thoughts he has by deflecting and repressing that shit, telling himself he's above it. voicing out loud how utterly dull his life would be if he was still just a high elf, a magistrate in the city, with some pretty husband or wife, a marriage likely arranged to advance his status. scoffing at the idea of a house full of children, little elflings with silver hair. and, ah, he would be mortal. but..

i can't help but wonder if he'd have moments where he'd find himself thinking about it. thinking about the life he lost. about astarion without the scars on his back. the one who enjoys bouillabaisse and a variety of expensive wines instead of blood in whatever form he can get. the man that has a home, a place to return to, a comfy bed, and above all.. astarion who has a family. who would be distraught if something happened to him. who would go out of their way to find him... where was his family when cazador took him? was he truly so utterly alone even before??

and that would sever the thread of his thought, pain and anger replacing it like a hot wave. he was stupid to even think about it. of course, he's better off now, as a vampire spawn, an immortal. he doesn't have whatever responsibilities that would weigh the pretty, breathing magistrate astarion down. he's better off drenched in blood, out on numerous adventures than whatever boring affair a simple life in the city would give him... of course!!

[lalunanymph]

MARRY THE TRAITOR ; gojo satoru

⟡ the day you met your demise is the same day you met gojo satoru, your betrothed from a world so different from yours—a cruel prince who is undoubtedly in love with someone else. as the stakes rise and you race against the clock to beat your brutal fate, can you make the ultimate choice between your heart or your happily ever after?

includes: mentions of food, mentions of murder, talks of death, allergic reactions, mentions of giving birth, mentions of injuries, mentions of assault, sick!reader, reader is in cerena's body, isekai-ed reader, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, unrequited love, slow burn, yandere!gojo, prince!gojo

⟡ masterlist

ACT 1, SCENE 4: THE THRONE ROOM

Satoru’s fingers were icy cold, burning into your skin.

He didn't utter a single word when you jerked your head back, the furious glint in your eye looking so pathetic that he almost dared to pity you. 

You hang your head forward, crying softly, unaware of anything but the rushing scenery that fades from foliage to stone walls. Once inside the castle’s fortress, Satoru cuts through your bindings, dismounting from his horse and extending a hand to give you assistance. 

But, stubborn as you are, you slip off the horse and land on your shaky feet, ignoring his outstretched hand and walk ahead, your head held high and glare unyielding.

Satoru catches up to you easily, and you can hear the frustration in his voice when he utters, “We need to see my Father.”

You falter. 

Of course. After the stunt you pulled, it was only natural that the King himself wanted some answers.

Nodding, you clasped your wasp-bitten hands together, trying to smooth your skirt which bore tatters from your tumble with Satoru on the snowy ground, and the hellish chase you endured through the prickly forest foliage.

He led you towards the throne room, pushing open the heavy duty double doors for you.

Immediately, the courtroom fell into a hush; nobles who were conversing amongst themselves stopped to appraise you with horrified looks. The guards gaped at your state of being, and even the court jester ceased his juggling antics, the plastic balls in midair plummeting to the floor with dull thuds. 

The second he clasped his gaze onto you, King Satoshi stood up, a look of horror inscribed upon his features as he took in your wounded hands, the tears on your dresses and across your face. 

“Cerena.”

Satoru moved to stand in front of you, bowing deeply to his father. “Princess Cerena has been rescued and retrieved. She was found in the middle of the Northern Forest, Your Majesty.”

Perturbed by this discovery, Satoshi moves from the dais, approaching you with caution. You dropped your gaze, unable to look him in the eye. 

“What happened to her?” He demanded, as if dealing with an errant child. He turned to Satoru who shot him a grimace. “I thought I told you not to hurt her? Why does she look bedraggled… like she was hunted down?”

Striking up his loathsome glare, Satoru slid his frigid blue gaze to you and spoke the truth. 

“Princess Cerena assaulted me, Father. She climbed up a tree and hacked through a wasp nest to drop it at my feet where I was stung. Then, she tried to run away and cause a scene. I had to do what needed to be done.”

Satoshi’s brows shot up into his white hair, his horrified expression clamoring for your attention in your periphery. 

“Gods above, Cerena—you tried to assault the Prince?” 

The nobles around you gasped, their hands fluttering to their gaping mouths; hiding their shocked expressions behind colorful fan plumes. 

He turned back to you, anger thundering in his teal eyes. 

“Child, what do you have to say for yourself? You have caused a grievous error to my son and you need to be punished duly. It is high treason for anyone to lay a hand on the Prince of Northern Haleway.” 

The injustice and horror of it all coalesced inside of you, and you felt faint from the numerous eyes around. Their accusations grated your ears, sounding like demonic whispers which made you faint with alarm, the corners of the room growing fuzzier as your knees were close to buckling.

“I only ran away because Satoru was conspiring with his lover to end my life!”

Whatever the court thought you would say, it was never this. 

Frenzied murmurs run amuck in the courtroom, like fire catching on dry leaves, crackling around you like a roof about to topple down. King Satoshi’s face paled, and beside you, standing stiff as a rock, your fiancé gritted his teeth. 

“That is absurd,” Gojo rushed to defend himself, sparing you a pertinent glare. “I do not have a lover and I have never conspired with said woman to bring any harm to the Princess’ life. Her accusations are those of a mad woman, Father.”

You flinched and slapped a hand to your mouth, the shakes in your body growing harder to ignore.

“Liar! You conspired to end my life! Why do you think I would run if not for such a treasonous act?” 

Peeling your lachrymose eyes to the King, you hiccuped, “Please, Your Majesty. Speak to the maid named Miri and she will validate what I have to say.”

It was a slim prayer, that of a desperate woman, but you had to try. You had to shine reason into the King’s eyes that his heir was a cruel, calculating and cold man who unfairly wanted to end your life. 

Satoshi pursed his lips, looking between his son and his fiancée who can barely stand without her knees shaking.

In the passing tenseness where no words were spoken, the lightheadedness suddenly stole your breath away and your legs buckled. You would have collapsed to the floor if it weren’t for Satoru’s quick reflexes in catching you, holding you upright as he shot you a seething glare.

“For goodness sake, woman. Stand up straight. You are embarrassing yourself.”

But, you cannot hear his condescension or his warning. Your heart was palpitating rapidly, almost like it wanted to claw out of your chest. The room started to spin, and you realized in a frenzy that you couldn’t breathe properly without feeling like your throat was closing in.

Desperation washed over you and you tried to speak, to tell them something was gravely wrong. 

A flicker of concern flitted across Satoru’s expression and he tried to hold you upright, but your body would not cooperate. 

Losing all bearings and control of your composure, you crumpled right in his arms, as high-pitched screams echoing in the courtroom.

“... guards!” 

“... infirmary… hurry!” 

Satoru lifted you up into his arms, the sheen of his pure white hair shining under the fleeting lights of the passing sconces. Weakly, you tried to call out his name, but he shushed you, his voice dipping in and out of your consciousness. 

“... save your strength… determine what's the issue…”

A hard bed met your back and hands were all over you, expertly probing, pressing and checking your vital signs. 

The physician, an elderly man with wiry salt and pepper curls, pursed his lips, shifting his gaze to the King and the prince waiting anxiously by the sidelines for your diagnosis. 

“Your Majesty. Your Highness. It appears the princess is suffering from an allergy attack. I have the right combination of herbs to aid her, though she might need to be sedated for the time being.”

Satoru bristled at the physician's words. 

“Sedated? Why? She was merely stung…”

He trailed off, the unease in his tone catching the older man's attention.

“Stung, you say, Your Highness? What was she stung by?” As he spoke, he gestured to his assistants to prepare the herbal remedy, applying warm compresses onto the sore portions of your swollen hands. 

Satoru felt his father's eyes boring into the side of his head and replied uneasily:

“She was stung by wasps.”

The physician scrutinized him, noticing the same reddened lesions all over his face and neck which were identical to the ones on your hands. 

Satoru glanced at your unconscious form, guilt glimmering in his cerulean eyes when he took in your ashy pallor and your chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

“She got attacked while trying to escape from me.”

The physician’s expression turned grave, though he does not openly rebuke the young prince. Rather, he turned his full attention to the afflicted princess and made it his mission for tonight to cleanse her body free of the wasps’ poison. 

“My men will be working tirelessly to resuscitate the Princess’ health, Your Majesty, Your Highness. We shall provide you with a report once it is done.”

There was nothing Satoru could do but let himself be led out of the infirmary, the curtains drawn around your feverish and malaised figure to keep your body away from prying eyes.

However, the idea of a whole group of men taking their turns to rub down your body with salve and paste made his stomach churned, and he quickly snapped his fingers to catch a young maid’s attention.

She straightened, rushing forward and bowing immediately.

“Stay with the Princess until the cleansing process is over and report to me instantly once it is done, do you understand?” 

Bowing again, the brunette scurried towards the drawn curtains and parted it, letting herself into the circle to keep watch over the unconscious Princess.

A large palm squeezed his shoulder and Satoru turned to find his father’s solemn reflection echoed upon his countenance.

“Whatever happens to Cerena tonight, we must prepare for the worse, son.”

Satoshi moved them out of earshot, leaning forward to depart his grave strategy.

“If she should pass on, we would need to secure your engagement with another princess.” Satoru did not expect his father to bring up such an outrageous suggestion at such a delicate time. The abhorrence deepened the lines of shock on his handsome face and he took a step back.

“No—”

Frustrated by his son’s refusal, Satoshi growled. “Satoru, this is what is best for Northern Haleway—”

“Father. With all due respect, you severely underestimate Cerena’s will to live,” Satoru darted his gaze to the cordoned area of the infirmary, failing to hide the shake in his clenched fists. “She will live and she will make it out alive. I swear upon my own words, I will look after her and nurse her back to health. You do not need to make such a rash decision so soon.”

Struck mute by his son’s passionate insistence, Satoshi pursed his lips. 

Eventually, after a few moments of staring down his only heir, the King relented, exhaling an exhausted sigh.

“Alright. I shall put aside the immediate plan for now,” he added gruffly, “Let us hope she makes a speedy recovery.” 

Satoru nodded silently and left his father’s side, moving to lean against the threshold of the infirmary. With his strong arms folded across his chest, his gaze remained fixed on the drawn curtains that concealed his betrothed from the world. 

The distinguished figure of his son, accentuated by the dark embroidered jacket and matching riding pants that highlighted the stark contrast of his pure white hair, stirred a bittersweet longing in Satoshi. It brought back memories of his own burdensome youth—the long nights spent in that very position, waiting for his Queen to deliver him an heir.

With a quiet sigh, he turned away from the infirmary, pausing to give his son one last, curious glance.

This is strange, indeed. I thought Satoru despised Princess Cerena…?

MTT fun fact: swan hunting is a popular sport in Northern Haleway

dawn says: king dadjo is sus,,,,,,

!! reblogs and feedback and asks about this series are so beloved and appreciated and will motivate me to update and write faster <3

©️ all rights reserve to lalunanymph. do not copy elements of my story, repost or claim as your own.

[janumun]

Nomos (Xavier - NSFW/18+)

Pairing: Xavier/Queen Reader (based on Xavier’s first myth) Word Count: 3.7k Tags: religious imagery/desecration sex, angst, evol bondage, oral sex, orgasm denial, Knight Xavier on his knees repenting to his Queen MC, spoilers for Xavier’s first myth, female dominating, canon divergence, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned

Summary: The Queen of Philos had sacrificed her heart ultimately and along with it, part of her humanity, in the wake of Xavier’s failed Backtrack mission; binding it to Philos’ core for eternity. Now, returned to her, centuries after, Xavier seeks his Goddess’ audience, and her forgiveness, within the stone-cold chambers of her castle. 

But centuries suffered alone, and with her heart now gone, she is a former frigid cast of the woman he used to love. Xavier is adamant on repenting, even if it costs him his life this time round. 

[A fic where Prince Xavier manages to return to Philos but he is too late; his Queen has long thrown her powerful core, her heart, into Philos’ centre and now, she has nothing to offer Xavier but her bitter resentment.]

O celestial body of mine, Slumbering adrift in darkness, Which never heeds the whispers of life, Till it fades into oblivion, nothingness. 

The rolling echo of thunder — knelling an approaching storm — was the only sound that rippled across the heavy, cold silence that had settled itself across the throne room. Wan shadows clung to the wide, dismal stone pillars of the great hall. Barely quelled by the flickering protocore lamps interspersed on either sides of the room. 

A looming, stone figure of the Goddess adorned the space right behind her great throne, staging Her chosen Sovereign to rule and obey, for all of Philos to see, placed by Her will upon the throne. The Goddess; doused in cool shadow, her sculpted eyes stared down glacial and unforgiving, set into regal stone. Her great Sword aimed at length towards the altar Xavier knelt at. 

The flagstone beneath his knee was a harsh and frigid reminder; Xavier considered, not for the first time how it too had frozen in on desolate isolation, just like his Queen’s majestic figure in front. She stood tall and silent — the paradigm of dignity she’d forced herself to be, for the sake of Philos... and for the sake of a lover who’d refused to accept the wretched Crown of a King.  

Solitary and unattended — he’d allowed her to experience the empty desolation that came with a Sovereign’s crown of lonely leadership. And yet, even confined to the yawning silence of her frigid throne room, she’d ushered Philos into an era of prosperity. While he— 

Xavier had failed her; her hopes, her dreams... her yearnings he’d turned blind to each time she’d granted him the soft brunt of her affections sifting like stone against his heart. So in love with her — she would never know — and yet, the distance he’d maintained stretched flimsy in between them; closer than friends, stranger than lovers.  

The burden of her past life, their first life, lived in futility, through a heart that brought her no end of pain until it had burned her life out of existence — and in turn, ended his, in spirit — with her untimely demise.  

And he had — in misguided intentions, she viewed them as — refused to let the cycle of tragedy repeat once more, in the sacrifice of her sole being. As Xavier, prince of Philos. And a mere man in love with a woman. The one heart he could never bear to let go. In the name of a ‘greater good’, his father, the previous King had called it such. For Philos.  

To hell with a nation his father and his wretched co-conspirators had painted from the ground up, drenched in the blood of numerous sacrifices before her. Xavier had wanted no part in the perpetuation of that horrifying ritual.  

Desperation had eventually led him to adopt far perilous measures, to prevent her oblation in this lifetime — two centuries spent in between their tentative meetings, and then several countless more spent traversing the stars and through worlds in search of a solution. To prevent Philos’ downfall without the need to hold on to age old rustic customs. 

And he had promised her, his beautiful lonely Queen, a victory he had failed to bring to her feet. Swore to her in centuries past, when she’d still looked upon him with love naked in her gaze and worry taut in her features, that he’d search for a better path for Philos from among his travel in the stars, while she’d resolved to stay behind as their planet’s sole Sovereign; their Goddess incarnate.  

The tender warmth of her skin as he’d traced her features into memory on their last meeting all those centuries back, within the plaza rife with life; a reminder of what they were fighting for. The way she’d layered her own hand against his, letting her eyes drift shut as if she too wished to forget their fast-looming separation. 

And on the day of her coronation, he’d left her, branded as a traitor. Chancing one last, proud look upon her majestic form as she’d leveled the blade of her sword against his shoulders apiece, in their private ceremony of two, knighting him as her Grandis Knight. 

A fleeting, tentative touch of her palm she’d pressed against his shoulder in farewell, determined eyes staring into his from beneath the weight of her crown as she’d wished him well. 

“The fate of our nation rests within your hands now, Xavier. And should you fail, the entirety of Philos shall have to pay the price for the Prince’s failings.”  

Her delicate hand had tightened against the pressed shoulder of his regalia, not caring for the badges of honor there, digging into her skin. “May the Goddess be with you. Goodbye, Xavier.” 

 Xavier’s eyes flitter shut in resigned recollection; the very last touch of her warmth still fresh in his mind. In the flex of gloved digits against the badge attached to the hilt of his sword, one she’d gifted to him, in lieu of her star tassel.  

Now, as he kneels at her feet, she hasn’t even moved to touch him. Hasn’t deigned him worthy enough to afford even the mercy of her hands on his body, even if just to strike him. In ire or curses; Goddess, his heart and body have missed her so dearly. And yet, this is not the time for personal weakness. But repentance. And Xavier has always been one devoted to his cause, his one sole duty; to live and serve, to die or be tortured by her will alone.  

His Demiurge regent, his sole Queen.  

She observes great clemency as is expected of a Sovereign of her stature, when her steps shift closer; the dignified brush of her mantle pooling about her feet. Soft fur fabric brushing against the polished heel of pale shoes, the slip of bare skin through the part of her flowing robes at her legs, filling his line of sight as it remains firm, fixated upon the ground. For she has not allowed him leave to freely gaze upon her form. And Xavier is her Grandis Knight, committed to propriety of duty, if it is for her alone.  

He, however, dares: gloved digits reaching for the sweep of her queenly cape brushing the stone-cold flagstone. The pads of them skimming the soft of fur that lines its edges. And when she does not move to refute his brazen touch, he curves his fingers into the fabric and guides it up to his lips, lashes descending shut as he lays a kiss against the cloth, in show of the proper reverence she deserves. “I have returned, my Queen.” 

Xavier feels her shift above his genuflecting form, a response she utters in the voice he has missed. “Why?”  

“I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary for my failure, your Majesty. If it is my life you seek—”  

“Why have you returned now?”  

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” 

“You are far, far too late.” The first hints of displeasure seep into her intonation, accusing strains of heat Xavier prefers to the thick monotone she’d employed previously.

“Forgive me, your Majesty.”  

An explicable tremor breaks across her still form; minute, missable, were it not for how finely attuned he is to her mannerisms, her emotions, her simmering ire.  

“Why have you returned now, after all this time? You made no promises.” She asks once more, cool resignation in her voice.  

He stares fixedly at the sight of her feet, a response she seeks from him, he has no answer to.  

Silence stretches long and taut, infinite, in between them. 

“After the first five hundred years spent waiting in futility...” she deliberates. “I finally concluded that you’d died. Perished among the unknown.” 

His fist, sunk into the unyielding cold floor at his knee, crushes tighter at her words. “...Please allow me to look upon your Majesty’s face.”  

Her footsteps glide forwards, another step closer. Ignoring his entreaty, she resumes, “I continued to make excuses for your failure to return.” She pauses. 

“It brought me some modicum of comfort to know you had not just abandoned me but that you were simply no more.” The terrifying frigid inflection of her voice numbs Xavier’s heart — cool tendrils of dread coiling vines within his chest, like their first life, he’d held her within his arms. Watched the life pool out of her eyes, leaving her dull and lifeless within his embrace.  

She has lost her heart once more, and the mere thought has Xavier’s nerves driven to near devastation.  

But he is here, he knew of the consequences. And he is here, to bear through them, to accept his Sovereign — and beloved’s — ire; no matter if she remains full or half. She is all he draws breath for, all he fights for, the pinnacle of his existence and his desires. His guiding star, his monarch, his God. 

“Forgive me, your Majesty.” He speaks, once more. 

The first signs of emotion other than cool resentment thread through her low voice: furied indignance. “Utter insolence.” 

The heel of her shoe rises before his very gaze — Xavier’s eyes falling shut to accept the brunt of her oncoming strike. One that does not come. He feels her press the harsh tip of it, instead, underneath his jaw, knocking his face upwards so that his eyes meet hers, glacial turbulence within her gaze. “How does it feel to be demeaned as if you were a mere traitor, at my feet? Do you feel as violated and desolate as I too did all those years ago?” 

She is kind, she remains so gentle; her punishment, she considers it humiliation for him to be put at her feet when it is anything but. As if it could ever be. She offers him her worship instead, and so he follows her regal command. 

Pitching his face to dig deeper against the tip of her shoe, his eyes remain devoted upon hers. Gloved fingers he brings to curl, slow beneath the sole of her boot to support, mouth skimming a kiss of reverence to the polished surface.  

Ire and heat fulgurate within her gaze at his brazen actions, she continues to watch as his mouth parts, pink tongue darting forth to slick a slow, deferential path against the cool leather of her shoe. “This is not punishment enough, your Majesty, when your Grandis Knight has been ever prepared to end his life at your feet, were it your will.” 

The spark of heat within her gaze retreats and shutters itself behind its glacial curtain. “Do you remember what it is I told you when you embarked on your journey, my Knight?” 

“I do.” He murmurs, just as she digs the edge of her heel deeper against his cheek.  

She rips herself away from his worship, sweeping right up close against his kneeling figure, until he can catch the drifts of her perfumed scent emanating from her bone-ivory robes. Can feel the brush of the silken cloth adorning her thighs, against the tip of his nose. 

Wretched, blasphemous desire churns vicious within his belly at having the woman he loves this close, after centuries spent without her — a woman that is not his, never will be. Immoral desires of a sinner for Philos’ Mother. A woman — and their nation — he brought to ruin by his own hand; Philos’ branded traitor. 

“I told you,” she speaks, in the neutrality of a Sovereign, “that were you to fail, all of Philos would have to pay the price for the Prince’s failure.” She stills. “And I am Philos, I am centered to Her core. I am Her life-force as she is mine. Our people paid a hefty price for our peace, oh Grandis Knight.” 

Xavier’s face sinks forward, brushing the edges of her silken robes against his cheek. “Forgive me, your Majesty.” In the harsh clench of his jaw; and when she does not move to spurn him, he devotes a kiss of resigned reverence to the cloth above her thigh. Her body loses part of its stillness at the action.  

“Even after all this time...” she murmurs under her breath. “You refuse to address me by my proper name, like a foolish coward.” A slipping fracture of something akin to torment in her voice.  

Xavier lets his mouth glide further up across the lustrous cloth in begging of her pardon, for the ache he has caused, has continued to cause to her. To Philos. For his protection that he has always known held a double cutting edge to itself.  

He drifts towards her other thigh, mouthing proper worship onto it and his Queen — benevolent, tender in heart still — lets the Sinner at her feet do as he pleases. Canting his gaze heavenwards to watch as she allows; her own eyes that burn into his kneeling form, observing him from her place on high.  

Her legs shift, allowing Xavier the fleeting sight of unblemished skin in between the loose flow of her fabric and like a devotee starved, he’s drawn to the catch of her inner thighs revealed with the slight disarray of her robes beneath his questing mouth. Finding her undeniably warm when his lips brush near the junction of her thighs at bare skin.  

“My Knight—” 

“You may call me by my name, your Majesty.” His hungering tongue slips past his lips to lave gentle at her. “After all, I am no more than servant to your Majesty and her great throne.”  

“Grandis Knight, you are—” 

“I am your Xavier, your sinner.” His hot gaze rolls up towards hers and beseeches. “So, please call me by name so you may curse at me.” 

He feels the fire of her indignant resentment sputter within her gaze, receding the glacial indifference of it. Her cold fingers slink into his hair and wrench harsh at the argent strands, ripping a groan free of Xavier’s throat. The very first gift she makes of pain, to him, one he receives with the reverent ardour it deserves.  

Xavier heaves forward once more to settle in between her legs, nosing at the fabric of her mound, breathing in her scent. Teeth catching at the cloth that keeps her concealed from view before he loosens it apart with a violent jerk of his head.  

Moisture glistens tempting in between her folds — the firm press of her digits against the back of his head is the sole permission Xavier requires to engulf her entirely against an open, hungering mouth, a low moan of desire breaking past his throat at the intoxicating taste of her on his tongue.  

He laps up at her; a man starved — one he is, after the emptiness of her endured in his soul, the burdens of his failures and desires commingled in the wet lave of his tongue from base to hood. Slicking the edge of his tongue against the pearl at her apex. Her low sigh follows the incessant push of his face deep into her mound, his nose brushing at the curls of it, accepting the gift of her benevolence.  

“Did you know, my dear Knight—” her voice skitters mildly in pleasure with the press of the tip of his tongue, cleaving gentle into her slit. “It did get easier.”  

Her wetness seeps past her opening and onto his fervent tongue as he dutifully swallows. He feels incredibly parched, open mouth pressing deeper against her as he works her pleasure, tongue slinking into her depths. She clenches around him at the intrusion, knocking a muffled groan free of his throat.  

“When time finally ran out for your chance to return and Philos neared the end of its life, with our people on the brink of desolate death,” her breath jolts. “I marched out there.” 

His brows knit into a severe frown, stroking his need for her ire to sheath itself deeper into his body. He requires it; his Queen’s rightful anger so that he may take all of it and her, let her bruise her emotions into it, until the moment she’s used him up to her heart’s desires and she finally weeps and hurts no more.  

And so, his lashes descend with the tight spasm of her fingers carded through his hair, steering his mouth however she pleases. 

“And I willingly bound my life force to Philos’ core so that it could continue to live. Cut out the part of me that loved and felt until I turned myself into something entirely non-human for the sake of our people. A true God.” A slow, desolate string of weak sound tapers out of her body before it augments itself into mirthless laughter that rings hollow through the great, empty space of her throne room. “It was all too easy to do so, in a world I knew my Star no longer existed. For my heart had beat for him alone.” 

A heavy bludgeon of agony rips through his chest, tries and clambers its way out of his body before Xavier tamps it mercilessly in the gentle scrape of his teeth against her tight bundle of nerves. Her violent shudders, he feels buffets her limbs before he’s reaching out for her on instinctual, fervid desire in the clasp of gloved palms against the sides of her legs, trekking his touch up her thighs. A low moan parts her lips at the touch. 

Xavier’s audacious attempt at desecrating his God further underneath his obsidian worship is foiled in the twin blades of light that cleave around his wrists, whipping them swift and away from her body to shackle them together at the base of his spine. 

His body jolts through the glaze of his desires, part sense rending through the thick of pain knocking at the back of his breastbone to realize she’s forced his submission in the resonation of her Evol against his. Emulated his Light seamlessly in the binds of radiance — befitting of Philos’ Sovereign — wound tight at his wrists. Even centuries past now, she remembers the precise shape of his Light. 

He tests a flex against his restraints, finding they do not give an inch. “You’ve grown far too bold in your time away,” her voice is a cold dagger that scotches itself right beneath his ribs. She heaves him away from her body, reluctant mouth drenched in the strings of slick and spit that trail from his mouth to the soaked space of her legs. “Grandis Knight, what makes you think you’ve earned even an ounce of me to embrace as you would, a lover?” 

“I have not, your Majesty, forgive—”  

Severing through the rest of his apology in the quiet catch of Xavier’s breath when the sole of her heel comes to rise, knocking a firm, uniformed thigh apart to reveal the indecency of his arousal to her gaze, straining painful against the placket of too tight trousers.  

The edge of her heel trailing the inside of his thigh, she switches towards the heavy length of him. Brushing the underside of his arousal, Xavier’s shoulders tense in heavy need at the barely present stimulation. Before her heel sinks firmer against the length of him, jolting a groan free of him. “Does that feel good then?” 

“Yes, your Majesty.” He breathes heavily.  

“Look at you, coming apart under the mere, filthy touch of my foot.” Her brow bunches in an irked frown.  

“No part of you—” His voice breaks apart into quiet, ragged breaths at the stimulation of her heel against the increasingly sensitive strength of his arousal. “—is filthy to me, your Majesty.”  

Xavier tugs against the leash she’s made of her fist at the back of his head and she allows him, in that moment, to arch forwards and nudge the part of her dress aside. Sink into the wet heat of her; a man imprisoned to her tender mercies and the flood of her taste in his mouth. 

He works her open against his tongue, laving at her desires. Back and forth, he doesn’t let a single drop spill past his hungering mouth until he feels the tell-tale evidence of her orgasm in the insistent clench of her walls.  

Her hips gyrate forward in tandem to the suck of his mouth against her tightened bead and Xavier lets his shoulders fall slack to allow her free reign of her release as she grinds herself against his tongue to a precipitous finish. The gush of her desires Xavier drinks down, humming in dazed arousal, to have let her find her relief; used as her personal seat of pleasure, to be tossed at her will alone.  

Her hands flitter about his head, curling on either side of his jaw to pull away from the heaven of her body, and up as she descends, her mouth settling against his in a violent kiss he receives with vehement pleasure.  

Releasing herself, slow, from him only when her desire to breath turns overbearing. The edge of her thumb slips just past his damp bottom lip, urging his mouth open further. Before she spits against his revering tongue and instructs him to, “Swallow.” 

Xavier’s mouth clamps shut on instinct, working the taste of her against himself. Gaze flittering in darkening, vicious desire at the heat of his Goddess’ gift.  

A low hush of withering laughter leaves her mouth. “I’ve tethered a rabid beast to my side.” 

Her thumb and index cup about his jaw, coaxing his gaze to remain on hers, bright, burning. “Swear to me,” she speaks. “Swear that your loyalty shall never lie with another.”  

He feels his Queen curl a tremulous fist into the robes at his shoulders, crumpling the fabric hard in between her fingers. “Swear that you shall remain mine, my Grandis Knight, for all time. That you shall never abandon me again, Xavier.”  

His gaze quivers in fleeting emotions for a moment’s weakness, steel gray resolve returning once more to utter his vow renewed. 

“I have always been yours to have or reject, your Majesty. This Knight — his Body and Soul is yours alone to wield.” 

Making of himself, a promise, he commits to her in the life she shall have; to end at the sweep of her sword, should he ever dare renege on it.  

Declaring himself, at long last, in his clear devotion; to his one Queen and God.  

Tagging: @samanthagnicole , @catboi-anon , @beebumbo , @hellinistical , @dangerousluv1 , @webmvie , @aria-tempest , @raendarkfaerie , @lamentinee , @unhingedsillygod , @tiredas

(Skipping folks who do not have tagging permissions on, so they cannot be mentioned, unfortunately)

I had the angsty pleasure of reading Xavier’s first myth for the first time a few weeks back and with the help of a Xavier main friend and inspiration drawn from Xavier’s prayer pose in photobooth, this fic was born. I hope you enjoyed your read! 

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated, if you are so inclined, lovelies!

If you’d like to be tagged in my future stories, you can fill this short form here. If you’d like to be removed, shoot me a DM! You can also find me on Ao3 and twitter, if you’d like to chat or just squeal with me about hot characters, in general.

[kamisama-kyaa]

ow guys and girls (not all) getting jealous seeing you with a new recruit

TW: Cassidy's headcanon is a little mature... (eyes emoji)

Hanzo He'll have to remind himself that you can be friends and hangout with anyone you want. Being jealous is selfish and childish... right? So why does he feel so sad seeing you happy with someone else? He understands that you love him more than anything. But sometimes this man just wants you to himself. When you finally get back to Hanzo, he'll make sure to hold you close in the privacy of his room and tell you that he just wants to be enough for you. Please tell him he is enough and that there is no one else that will come in between you both. It will make him feel more confident in himself. :(

Genji The ultimate playboy when he was his younger self...oh how the tables have turned. He used to make all the girls jealous of each other if they got to talked to him. He's used to people being jealous of him if anything. So when this weird feeling started when he say you with a random new recruit in the lounge talking and laughing, what got into him? Genji couldn't help himself. He quickly walked up and excused you both as he took your hand and led you out of the Gibraltar lounge. Was it rude? He simply was not thinking nor did he care. He did apologize for the sudden intrusion while walking you to his room. In there all alone with you, he confessed how he felt. It seemed like the most mature thing.

"Sorry, (Name)... I wasn't thinking...Is it okay if we just lay together for a little?" Genji will lay you down onto his bed that he bought for you. He'll lay on his side propped up by an elbow and watch you closely. Feel free to fall asleep, he just wants to feel like he can protect you for a little bit.

Cassidy He'll walk up to that son of a gun and tell them how it is. "Howdy. Looks like you've gotten to meet my partner, (Name). Ain't they a sight for sore eyes?" He'll sling an arm around you and give a look at the new recruit that just radiates 'Get away or I'll kick your ass' energy. After the recruit scurries off to who knows where, Cassidy will give you a big o'l smile. He kind acts like he was never jealous in the first place and just tells you, "I'm just lettin' others know what is mine." No matter what, the day will end with the two of you in bed. Expect him to to be a bit more aggressive and possessive than usual. Think of him being more forceful in the way he'll grab at you and force himself into you. Cassidy will lean down and whisper in your ear, "I'm your huckleberry" "Only I can make you feel like this, pumpkin."

Brigitte "Hey, (Name)...Can we talk?" You looked over to see your adorable lover at the door waiting for a response. You told the newbie that you'll see them around or maybe in a future mission. After walking into the hallway with Brig, she asks if you could follow her to somewhere private. You guys end up in a hidden park outside of Gibraltar. You asked if there was anything wrong. Brig can't help but shift back and forth while trying to form a coherent sentence. "I...Sorry I just felt like I wanted to be alone with you. Honestly, I think I got a little jealous watching you talk to someone." You couldn't help but sadly smile and give her a kiss on the cheek. It took her by surprise. "You're not mad at me? Isn't it selfish of me to whisk you away when you're making friends...?" You tell her that it's something you can both work on; to be able to feel confident in each other and so jealousy doesn't have to be a thing. "You're right. I need to work on it. But, I'm feeling better already!"

Kiriko "Huh...So do you like hanging around them more than me?" Kiriko will playfully ask. Of course, she was only half joking...other half seriously asking. You would reassure her that you like spending time with her but you just wanted to say hi to the new person! "Alright, but can they do this?!" She'll bust out her kunai and start juggling them. You can only watch your silly partner try and impress you while you giggle. Kiriko will join in on the giggling session, making sure to catch all her kunai and stuff them in her pockets. "We're the perfect match... right?" You can see some uncertainty in her eye while she looks directly at you. Simply pull her into a tight hug and this will erase any lingering fear of you leaving her.

Reaper The person literally disappears. You never see that new recruit. Did your lover have something to do with this? You may never know. Maybe you should keep your distance with those who come around...

Moira She would definitely deny any accusations of her being jealous! Do not even try to confront her or ask her why she's acting strange. "What are you on about?" Moira will scoff. You can try to tease her all you like, but it'll come back and bite you in the end. She always knows how to come out on top. After slightly opening up and telling you about her feelings, you'll have to make sure to console her and confess your undying love and loyalty... or else!

[6lostgirl6]

Heyo! Love your recent post on the marquis de gramont. Could you do a one shot where the reader manages to escape yandere marquis and manages to hide in another country for a few months before the marquis confronts them in a motel they were hiding in

No Escape

Pairing: Yandere!Vincent De Gramont x Fem!Reader

TW: General Yandere Behavior, Toxic Relationship, Mentions of Stockholm Syndrome, Mentions of Imprisonment, Mentions of Codependency, Controlling Vincent, Panic Attack, Cursing, Arguing, Forced Kissing (At first), Happy Ending. Reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Word Count: 1.5k

It took you months to earn his trust, which he scarcely showcased to anyone. The months you pretended you were finally falling in love with him, with lovely words and tender affections that gradually lowered his guard with each passing day.

There were privileges that came with trust, which you soaked up like a sponge. He eventually permitted you to roam around the mansion without him or a bodyguard, which led to him permitting you to spend time outside within the gates. Finally, you were allowed to sleep in your room without someone monitoring your door during the night.

However, you ultimately reached a breaking point when you recognized one day that those affectionate words and acts had transformed into something more…sincere. You'd lay awake in your room, your mind racing at the prospect of succumbing to Stockholm Syndrome.

Your altered phone, gifted by Vincent, lay in pieces on the bedroom floor when you made your escape. You crept out under the beauty of the moonlight, and your efforts during the day allowed you to memorize Vincent's men's routine patrols. You wore only the clothing on your back and a little satchel containing your monthly allowance, which Vincent would give you as a reward for your good behavior. The hardest thing was climbing over the fence, but you made it out with only minor cuts. Despite the joy of finally experiencing independence, you couldn't shake the sadness in your heart. You couldn't help but think you were doing something wrong.

'It isn't love; it isn't love.' Throughout your entire voyage to Canada, you would repeat those words in your head like a broken record. When the landlord handed you the keys to your flat, you couldn't help but feel awful. When you received your new cell phone a week later, you resisted the urge to call him.

You missed him terribly and despised yourself for it.

A month has gone by, and you weren't any better off than you were a few weeks before. You did, however, have a job interview coming up in the next month, and you were pleased that you were making progress toward regaining independence. You even purchased a new cell phone for amusement purposes.

Vincent had certain expectations for you as his lover while you were imprisoned. He wanted you to be entirely reliant on him, letting him make decisions for you and requiring his permission to do everything or walk outdoors. He promised to take care of you, to make you want for nothing, and to give you the wedding of your dreams. However, beneath the surface, you became less and less of yourself.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you couldn't help but wonder if you would have been happier at ho-Vincent's mansion. Your eyes threatened to shed tears as you glanced at the screen of your phone.

Vincent's number was illuminated in the darkness of your room, casting a chilling glow across your face. The call button begged you to merely press it in order to make amends.

You tapped the button and placed the phone to your ear with a nervous exhale. As the phone continued to ring, your eyes were wide and stared into space. As you waited for him to pick up, your heart was racing in your chest, and you nervously chewed your nail.

'He'll be mad...'

The thought occurred to you, and you immediately regretted making the phone call. You were aware that Vincent had a temper, and while he never took it out on you, you weren't immune to his stern lectures when you got in trouble, or how he destroyed his possessions in front of you. Even his patience with you can waver, and you weren't planning on finding out.

When the person on the other end of the line picked up the phone, you hurriedly hung up, unable to handle the sound of his voice. You tried taking a few deep breaths, but your heart refused to stop pounding rapidly as you stared down at the phone.

Within the first five seconds, your phone rang, and you felt your heart was about to stop. When Vincent's number came across your screen again, you screamed and threw the cellphone against the wall. Your phone was scattered in pieces on the carpet, similar to the altered phone you left at the mansion. You prayed to whatever higher power that the call wasn't long enough for Vincent to track it down.

"Fuck!" You exclaimed, rising from your bed and walking about your room, your hands grasping the sides of your head, attempting to stabilize yourself. "Fuck, fuck!"

You couldn't sleep that night.

You were strolling to your apartment, finally entering the elevator with a spring in your step. A month had gone by with no occurrences, and your concern was fading, with your confidence progressively taking its place.

The job interview went well, and you were hired at the local supermarket in the little town where you resided. It was extremely discreet, and you preferred it that way. Anything too extravagant would have drawn Vincent's attention, which was the last thing you needed.

When the doors reopened, you proceeded to head towards your apartment door, fishing out your keys from your satchel. Sorting through your keys, you unlocked the door and walked into the dark apartment, shutting the door behind you. You walked over to the wall, flicking on the lights.

The next thing you heard caused a chill to run down your spine.

"Did you enjoy your interview, chérie?" A familiar voice spoke, prompting you to press your back against the wall in panic.

Vincent stood in front of the window, his back to you, watching the beauty beyond the glass. His hands were in his pants pockets, and his posture was rigid.

"V-Vincent I-" You stuttered but came to a pause when Vincent turned to face you.

His brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed, and his big lips formed a stiff line. He was clearly furious with you, but he tried to remain calm.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was?" He demanded, taking a few steps closer to you. His stature was imposing, towering well over six feet tall, and you hoped he'd keep his distance.

You could only stay silent; your eyes were locked on him.

"Do you?" He asked once more, his tone becoming darker.

"I-I'm sorry, Vincent, I just-" Your mind was blank, unable to generate a suitable explanation. Your heart was attempting to burst from your chest, and your breathing was growing shaky.

How can you explain your mixed feelings to your kidnapper?

Vincent's patience was clearly wearing thin as he strode towards you, seizing your upper arms and dragging you close. He disregarded your terrified yelps as you struggled to keep your distance. However, because you were close to the wall, Vincent quickly trapped you against it. Your faces were barely a few inches apart, and you struggled to keep the warmth from flowing into your cheeks.

"How could you do something like this? I thought we were happy together and that you finally accepted our love! Why would you run away and scare me to death?!" He yelled, shaking your body somewhat as he spoke. "Do you understand what you put me through?!"

Suddenly, there was a fire that was ignited in your heart that you'd never felt before. All those months poured through you and you didn't think before you opened your mouth.

"What I put you through, what about me?! You kidnapped me and kept me inside your stupid mansion like I was some doll to do your bidding! How dare you stand there and act like you didn't hurt me first!"

Before he could reply, you continued, "But, I fucking love you! Even after everything, I still fell for you, and I hate myself for it! So, I ran! I ran away from you-"

You were cut short as Vincent yanked you into a kiss, his body crushing you against the wall. As you struggled, his arm curled around your waist, and the other gripped your hair to prevent you from pulling away.

However, the longer the kiss persisted, the less you struggled and ultimately succumbed to your predicament. He's kissed you several times before in the past, but this kiss was different. It was the first kiss where you two were finally on the same page.

You returned his kiss, your arms wrapping around his waist. He growled slightly into the kiss, drawing away slightly and planting a gentle kiss on your brow. You leaned against his chest, tears welling up in your eyes as you understood what had transpired.

Vincent brought his lips to your ear, his fingers twirling in your hair as he murmured darkly, "You will never do this again, do you hear me?"

His words sent shivers down your spine, full of ownership, and you knew your independence was gone. You softly agreed, allowing him to bring you closer to him in an embrace that was everything but sweet.

"You'll never escape me; I'll always find you." He murmured again, planting a firm kiss against your temple. "Always, chérie."

Spam Liking W/O Reblogging = Blocked

Taglist: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @britany1997 @bookworm-with-coffee @leiasolo77 @rottent33th @slaasherslut @bloodywickedvamp @daddy-issues-99 @kirishimasfiance @cynic-spirit

[mothernaturesthings]

Thy Kingdom Come Undone | Part One: “I’ve Missed You So.”

Father Charlie x Reader

synopsis: old lovers meet again, under the unprecedented spell of nighttime rainfall.

Nightfall.

An ominously lit sky with raindrops making the descent from above, many trickling onto the umbrella of a woman lingering in the marrow of it all. A rumble of thunder erupted, a sliver of lightning severing the darkness with winding white.

She sidled towards one of the modest, two-story homes, casting her head down to shield her face from the impact of rain. She hooped up the steps and approached the front door. There was a fear in her belly that bubbled to her chest, her hand open-palmed on the doorknob.

Her breathing was erratic. Clipped. She swallowed hard. As she hand-molded the shape of the doorknob—she knocked. Over and over, until her knuckles gave way to bruised flesh.

The door opened, revealing a man dressed in shirtless loungewear, standing at the threshold. Hair tousled. An eyeful of sleep. He rubbed them and reopened his eyes, recognizing the woman that instant.

“Rory?” He questioned, doing a once-over in disbelief. Her name falls off his tongue handsomely. Yearnful. Ardently, if so.

Rory merely stared at the man, lips parted, unable to speak. She could only stare, coquettish and in shock. It was quite evident that she wasn’t expecting that door to open.

“Sweetheart, it’s cold and rainy out here. Come in.” He reached out and placed a heated palm on her lower back. Her reactive body squirmed at the sudden heat, although she obliged to his request, albeit hesitantly as he ushered her into his home.

He led her to the couch, beckoning her to sit. She listened and seated herself, fidgety but seated nonetheless. He straddled the couch, muscular arms flanking her, their faces a kiss apart. Rory leaned in closer, whispered, “Father,” then breathelessly. “I’ve missed you so.” Her bottom lips brushed agonizingly slow against his. He grimaced; a breath cloistered up in his chest. 

“I’ve missed your touch," she combed her fingers through his scalp, "your skin,” a mouthful of the skin of his reddened cheek, teeth puncturing deeply. Painfully. He hissed, “And alas, your lips.” She faced him once more, lips swollen pink. He was expressionless, the brown of his eyes emoting the best he could. Needy. Hungry.

He pressed his lips onto hers, greedily becoming one muddled fusion of teeth and lips. Rory gasped, him using that vulnerability to edge his tongue into her mouth, exploring the meaty oral cavity there.

He rid himself of her mouth, an audible popping sound erupting. Remnants of her lipstick on his plump lips. They composed themselves respectively, Rory visibly upset.

“I can’t do this.” Was all that was uttered—heartbreakingly low. He clawed at his hair. 

“Can’t do what, Father?” Rory placed a hand atop his own, to which he immediately recoiled.

“Don’t call me father. I’m no longer a minister.” He face blanched now, out of frustration or embarrassment, or the latter.

“I’m sorry,” a moment of prolonged silence, “I never intended to offend you in any way.”

He doesn't exchange a similar sentiment. Rory ultimately understood and stood up on her feet.

“I understand. I’ll excuse myself.” She had begun her walk towards the front door when she abruptly felt a taut, possessive grip around her midsection. She froze.

“Make love to me.” Straightforward. Every syllable wisped the strand of hair at the nape of her neck. He pivoted her to face him. 

“Take me to bed?” It proceeded as a question more so. He decided to hoist her up by the waist, her limbs latching to his lower spine like second nature. He carefully guided them both up the staircase, Rory nibbling on the concha-shaped flesh of his ear.

He arrived at his bedroom door and pushed said door, flying open with the might of his foot. He stepped to the footboard of the bed and draped her body across it, to where her face was angled at his beltline. He cupped the underside of her jawbone, stroking his thumb over the mandible with delicate-like strokes. Rory purred like a kitten, putty to the feeling of his touch.

“Once we do this, there's no reversing it. We’ll be back at square one. Are you ready for the fallout when the time comes?” As he said that, his thumb achingly grazed the corner of Rory’s lips, begging to be sucked. At his expense, her mouth was now agape, allowing him to slide the thumb into her mouth. She closed it and began to suck, hard, the ridges of her teeth pricking the delicate skin.

She nodded. A definite understanding of what was to come.

[minminyoonjii]

i had such a brainrot about poly!ot8skz hybrid au with fem bunny reader where reader had gotten emotional about something (you can decide what) which led to fox jeongin comforting reader and the boys walk in… EXCEPT, it’s the scene from zootopia when judy is crying and nick is teasing her as she tries to take the pen off of him…

i just SEE jeongin doing this to comfort you and to make you giggle… it’s also kinda 🫣 enjoy ml!!

(link below)

🔗: https://youtu.be/8vOBExaLXu4?feature=shared

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

Wholesome|Domestic Settings|Fluffy|Fox! Yang Jeongin|Bunny Gender Neutral! Reader|Tooth Rotting Sweet

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 393

Tears dripped down your cheeks as you watched a kdrama so beautifully written just to make your heart sob. "Can they please just get together already?" you sniffled, watching the male lead die for the nth time. Your ears flopped over your cheeks, your tail twitching with each sniffle you took. You rubbed your tears with your fist, wearing Chan's oversized hoodie. 

His wolf figure was ten times bigger than the rest, thus giving you the best hoodie blanket in the pack. You blew your nose into some tissues, watching the female lead reincarnated again to save her lover's  life. Jeongin bit back a smile, pretending to be nonchalant, "What are you crying at, shortcake?" he asked, crossing his arms. You sniffled, rambling about the show, each word getting drowned out by your sobs. 

Jeongin swallowed a laugh, "That's it?" he said, just to rile you up. You furrowed your eyebrows, "Innie, it's romantic. It's love that has so many layers that even the soul can't forget it. I know it's dumb I'm crying this hard over a show. I know I'm really just a dumb bunny, but -" you ranted when suddenly you heard a familiar tape rewind. "I'm really just a dumb bunny," repeated back at you. 

Jeongin smirked, loving your shocked expression, "Bun, you know I always take your emotions to heart right. When have I ever disregarded your feelings, hm? Except earlier, of course," he said, brushing back your hair. You sniffled, hopping into his arms, "Asshole," you whispered, sighing in relief as you burrowed into his chest. Jeongin chuckled, holding you close, "Aww, you bunnies are so emotional," he cooed, pampering kisses on your forehead. 

You giggled into his chest, arm weakly trying to grab the recorder from his hand. Jeongin smirked, "Ah, are you trying to grab the pen? Is that what this is?" he chuckled, holding it higher. You smile against his pec, "Give," you whispered, comfy in his hold. The members tiptoed in, hoping not to break the adoring moment in front of them.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, his ears burning from embarrassment, but as long as your lips stayed in a smile, he'd do anything. You  burrowed closer, comforted by his warmth scent and his tail wrapped around your waist. Jeongin scoffed a smile, clicking the recording once again just to hear your silly giggles.

[aventurineswife]

anon who requested the IPC worker x Aventurine where reader faked their death :D

a part 2 would be cool, how you go abt it id up 2 u but if u would like any ideas…it could maybe have a flashback of their fakeout death and Aven’s reaction, and then flash to the present where he tries to leave IPC to live domestically w Reader, but they get killed for real in the process (i’m angst #1s lover) and now Aven is stuck in the IPC 😭

“At the end of the world, or the last thing I see, you are never coming home” | Part 2

Summary: Memories of your past with Aventurine resurface, unraveling the intense moments that led to your faked death. A flashback reveals the night you made the harrowing decision to disappear, showing how it shattered Aventurine’s world. Torn between loyalty to IPC and his love for you, Aventurine is ultimately willing to risk everything for a future together. However, when he attempts to leave the IPC, tragedy strikes, claiming your life in reality this time. Now, Aventurine must face an eternity of regret and entrapment within the very organization you both sought to escape. Bound to the IPC, haunted by memories of you, he is left yearning for a life he can never have.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, angst, fake death reveal, intense emotions, love and loss, tragedy, betrayal, hurt/comfort, forbidden love, character death, emotional breakdown, regret, forced separation, internal conflict, bittersweet romance.

Warnings: Intense emotional themes, character death, grief, betrayal, mentions of violence, flashbacks, guilt and regret, dark themes, potential tearjerker, unresolved trauma.

A/N: AHHHH!!! 😭 THAT'S SO MEAN BUT SO GOOD TOO?! MY BABY!!! 🥺💔

(Part 1)

The memory clung to Aventurine like a shadow—one he could never shake. He could still recall every detail from that day years ago, the day he’d thought he’d lost you forever. In his mind, it was as if he were back there now, reliving the dreadful series of events that tore you from his life.

It had started with an anonymous tip. He’d been in the heart of IPC headquarters, surrounded by the opulent furnishings and hushed power plays that were his world, when he received the message. The vague words scrawled across the screen still felt burned into his mind: An unexpected death in IPC’s ranks. Don’t ask too many questions.

At first, he’d dismissed it as some cruel joke or an attempt to provoke him. But as whispers circulated, he’d felt an ache that reached far deeper than any professional ambition or loyalty to the IPC. His instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. His fingers shook when he finally demanded details from an IPC informant. They had tried to placate him with silence, then with excuses, before finally leading him to a private room where they produced a list of names lost in action. His eyes landed on yours.

His heart had shattered. And in that moment, the world he’d so carefully built around him crumbled. The IPC, his title, every ounce of the strategic power he wielded felt like a joke, a hollow nothing in the face of your loss. Days bled into weeks, then months as he clawed through records, files, and whispers, desperate to uncover anything that could prove this had been a mistake. Eventually, after countless sleepless nights and fading hope, he resigned himself to a cruel reality: you were gone.

In the present, Aventurine had all but lost himself in your kiss, his hands cradling your face as if afraid you might disappear again. But now that he’d found you, he couldn’t imagine letting you slip away. You’d barely finished promising him you weren’t going anywhere when he whispered urgently, “Come with me. I'll leave the IPC. We can start over, together.”

The idea hung in the air, and the look on your face said you wanted it as much as he did. The life you’d built in hiding had given you some solace, but nothing compared to the warmth that had returned the moment you’d locked eyes with him again.

“I want to, Aventurine,” you murmured, your voice soft with hope but tinged with caution. “But you know, you leaving IPC isn’t going to be that simple.”

He gave a wry smile, the familiar gleam of his gambler’s spirit returning to his gaze. “Since when have I ever played it safe?”

It was settled. Together, you and Aventurine began planning a final escape from IPC, the promise of a quiet, shared life filling every unspoken moment between you.

Weeks later, the two of you were ready. Aventurine had secured falsified documents, disguises, and even an old shuttle that he’d salvaged and reprogrammed to slip through IPC scanners. His heart thrummed with excitement as he held your hand, the two of you ducking into back alleys and secret passages within IPC’s labyrinthine halls, moving closer to the shuttle bay with each step.

But just as freedom felt within reach, a familiar voice stopped him cold.

“Aventurine,” called a smooth, calculating voice—a voice he knew well, belonging to his superior within IPC, one of the few who could see through his every bluff. “Going somewhere?”

A team of armed operatives closed in, blocking your escape route, and Aventurine felt his stomach sink as he saw the trap closing around you both.

“What’s this?” he asked smoothly, masking his fear with a cocky grin as he positioned himself protectively in front of you. “A farewell party?”

His superior raised a brow, her gaze shifting to you before returning to him. “Leaving isn’t an option for a Stoneheart. Surely you know that.”

He cast a glance over his shoulder, meeting your eyes, silently urging you to stay close, to trust him just one last time. “Then let me make it clear,” he replied, stepping forward, his voice steady. “I’m done with IPC. And if you want me, you’ll have to get through us both.”

In the ensuing chaos, you and Aventurine fought with everything you had, desperate for one last chance at freedom. But just as you were about to reach the shuttle, a shot rang out.

You stumbled, a look of shock crossing your face as blood bloomed from your side. Aventurine’s heart seized. “No,” he whispered, catching you as you collapsed into his arms. “No, no, please… we were almost there.”

Your eyes met his, filled with a quiet acceptance he couldn’t bear. “It’s okay, Aventurine,” you murmured, your hand weakly reaching to touch his face. “I’m just sorry… I couldn’t give you the life we dreamed of.”

Tears he’d fought so long to hide spilled over as he held you, pressing his forehead to yours. “No, no, please don’t… I can’t do this without you.” But even as he clung to you, your grip grew weaker, your breaths fainter.

When your hand slipped from his cheek, Aventurine was left cradling your lifeless form, his vision blurring as grief consumed him. He’d lost you once before, but nothing had prepared him for the agony of losing you again—for real this time.

In the end, IPC dragged him back, broken and hollow, the final remnant of his old life slipping through his fingers. He returned to the office and his title as a Stoneheart, each day haunted by the love he’d sacrificed to leave the IPC, each night dreaming of a life he’d never know.

And so Aventurine remained, a prisoner of the world he’d once called his own, but now bound by grief—a gambler who’d lost his most precious wager.

[growingstories]

A royal affair

In Madrid in 1850, there lived a skilled bullfighter named Gonzalo, who at the age of 24 possessed remarkable looks and height that made him stand out in the crowds of that era. Followed by big and adoring crowds, Gonzalo followed in the footsteps of his famous bullfighter father. People flocked to see him not only defeat the mighty bulls but also to catch a glimpse of his handsome features. Women drooled over him, while men became envious of his courage. With each fight, the size of the bulls in the arena grew, and the stadium became increasingly packed with spectators.

One fateful day, Prince Alfonso, the second son of King Carlos, attended Gonzalo's fight as a devoted fan. Gonzalo was honored by the Prince's presence and had the chance to meet him after the intense battle. Prince Alfonso found himself charmed by the handsome fighter and promised to bring along friends and family to witness Gonzalo's next fights. True to his word, the news spread like wildfire, and when people learned of the Prince's intention to bring royal and aristocratic guests, the stadium overflowed with eager spectators. People paid exorbitant sums of money to see Gonzalo face the bulls and catch glimpses of the high-ranking attendees. Gonzalo's income skyrocketed as a result, and he began living a life of and comfort luxury.

The Prince and his guests became regular attendees, closely following each fight and engaging in subtle flirtations with Gonzalo behind the scenes. Though they were both aware that their feelings for one another were forbidden due to their differing backgrounds and Catholic doctrine, they found it increasingly difficult to deny their growing attraction. Gonzalo became a frequent presence at parties and gatherings, his social encounters with the Prince becoming the ultimate goal for any host.

Following one particularly memorable party, Gonzalo was secretly led into the palace, where he and the Prince engaged in a passionate evening of love-making. The Prince made sure to provide his fighter with alcohol and snacks to restore his strength after the fights. Just before the onset of summer, during one of the final fights, the Prince arrived at the stadium accompanied by his father, the King, which elevated Gonzalo's status even further.

The crowd went wild, and after the fight, Gonzalo was publicly invited to the palace for a dinner celebration. First, he was granted private a audience with the King and Queen, during which the King expressed his admiration and pride. He mentioned knowing Gonzalo's father many years ago and expressed his desire to see Gonzalo more frequently. Following this special meeting, a lavish dinner commenced, overwhelming Gonzalo with the sheer quantity of food. He felt embarrassed to consume so much but was compelled to eat a little.

After the dinner, the Prince instructed Gonzalo to discreetly exit the palace and enter a carriage waiting around the corner. Following the Prince's instructions, Gonzalo found himself secretly escorted to the Prince's private chambers once again. To his surprise, a buffet of delectable desserts from the dinner awaited him. The Prince observed how the sight of the desserts had enchanted Gonzalo, yet he declined to indulge. Determined to satisfy his lover, the Prince prepared a massage, which soon led to passionate lovemaking. After their intimate encounter, the Prince indulged Gonzalo's love for food by feeding him in a frenzy of gluttony until Gonzalo could no longer move. The Prince found himself increasingly aroused by witnessing his lover enjoy the food, and their evening ended with incredible pleasure shared between them.

The following day, Gonzalo was quietly smuggled out of the palace once again, making his way back to his humble apartment. However, as he arrived, he was surprised to find the King's carriage waiting for him. Summoned by the King himself, Gonzalo was asked to come to the palace immediately. Intrigued and slightly apprehensive, he obliged.

Upon entering the palace, Gonzalo was greeted by a sumptuous breakfast laid out before him. The King sat across from him, looking regal and amiable. Over the course of their meal, the King explained that the court would be relocating from Madrid to Mallorca for three months during the summer, in order to escape the heat oppressive of the city. To Gonzalo's surprise, he was asked to join the court and be a part of their activities.

The King explained that Gonzalo would be expected to participate in one bullfight for the court and special guests every week, as well as join them for several lunches and dinners throughout the three-month period. In return, he would receive a generous payment and be provided with a Summer home near the palace, complete with staff. Intrigued by the prospects and still slightly hungover from the previous night's revelries, Gonzalo found himself tempted by the offer and agreed to join the court.

Before leaving, the King instructed Gonzalo to prepare all the necessary materials for his bullfights, as the courtiers would bring everything to the island. Over the next two weeks, Gonzalo was swept up in a whirlwind of events. Every night seemed to bring about a lavish dinner or reception to commemorate the end of the social season, and Gonzalo was invited to them all alongside his secret lover, the Prince. These events often culminated in passionate afterparties in the Prince's chambers, accompanied by an abundance of champagne and extravagant snacks.

As the weeks went by, Gonzalo found himself indulging in the excesses of courtly life. His once athletic physique slowly gave way to the comfort of rich meals, leaving his abs hidden beneath a layer of flab. While the bullfights themselves went well, the absence of many guests made them somewhat dull and lackluster. Each fight was followed by lengthy, opulent dinners. Unfortunately, the Prince, who was often out sailing with his friends, had little time for Gonzalo, leaving him with little to do but consume whatever food was placed before him.

One night, while alone in his private chambers, the King summoned Gonzalo and confessed that he desired private company, as the days on the island were often long and lonely. Feeling obliged and somewhat confused, Gonzalo reluctantly agreed. The following day, he accompanied the King on various trips around the island, during which they indulged in heavy breakfasts, fatty lunches, and lavish dinners, all accompanied by copious amounts of alcohol. A few days into this arrangement, the King surprised Gonzalo with an unexpected kiss in the palace gardens. Unsure of what to do, Gonzalo reciprocated, believing that he had no choice but to comply with the king's desires. This continued for several days until the Prince returned.

When the Prince saw Gonzalo after his absence, he couldn't help but notice his lover's growing belly. Teasing him playfully, the Prince commented that court life seemed to have been treating him well. Unaware of his father's own desires and intentions towards Gonzalo, the Prince remained blissfully ignorant. During a lunch, the Prince proposed taking Gonzalo on a boat tour, but the King interjected, refusing the idea. Though the lunch had not yet concluded, the King insisted that Gonzalo join him to explore the city of Palma instead. Gonzalo was forced to endure another two courses before the King deemed it enough.

During this time, the Prince shared with Gonzalo that he would be waiting for him at the Summer house before dinner. Several hours later, after strolling through the scenic streets of Palma with the King, Gonzalo was dropped off at his Summer home. As anticipated, the Prince was eagerly waiting for him, delighted to finally have some time alone together. Amidst their reunion, their deep affection for one another manifested in a passionate encounter, a welcome release after weeks of separation. They made plans to reconvene at the Summer house after dinner, cherishing the stolen moments they managed to share.

During the long and extravagant dinner, the King made sure that multiple courses were served, prolonging the meal for hours. Just before dessert, the King decided to take a stroll through the garden and invited his son and Gonzalo to join him. The men engaged in lively conversation as they walked. The Prince, feeling exhausted and hoping for an early exit, asked the King if he and Gonzalo could be excused before dessert. However, the King adamantly refused and led the men back inside.

Inside, a grand dessert buffet awaited them. Gonzalo, conscious of his tightening uniforms and the need to maintain his physical agility for bullfighting, only took a small portion. He didn't want to trouble the tailor with new uniforms. Unfortunately, the King had different plans in mind. He ordered servants to pile every dessert onto Gonzalo's plate and demanded that he eat all of it. Despite feeling stuffed after the sixth plate, Gonzalo was presented with four more. Perplexed, the Prince questioned his father's insistence on serving Gonzalo more desserts. The King replied that he saw Gonzalo's unwillingness to join him for the summer as ingratitude, as he had offered Gonzalo the opportunity to spend time with him, the King, but Gonzalo opted to spend time with the second Prince instead. According to the King, Gonzalo needed to act like a grateful guest and comply with his wishes. In silence, Gonzalo consumed everything that was offered to him, growing increasingly sick and sweaty but unable to stop for fear of disappointing the King.

After two torturous hours, the King finally declared that the dinner was over. He informed the Prince and Gonzalo that they were expected the following morning for a meeting with the Cardinal. Frustrated with the events of the evening, the Prince sneaked out of the palace and went to spend the night at Gonzalo's house. Gonzalo, feeling confused and already uncomfortably full, had no desire for any additional activities. He hoped that the Prince would find a solution to this predicament because at this rate, he knew he wouldn't be able to continue his bullfighting career much longer. The next morning, they returned to the palace, ready for their meeting with the Cardinal.

The Cardinal, a very large 45 years old with a handsome face, joined them at the table, where an extravagant breakfast had been prepared by the servants. Eager not to repeat the previous night's embarrassment, Gonzalo tried to eat in moderation but was careful not to refuse any offerings. The King, completely focused on the Cardinal, instructed the servants to bring more and more food. When the Cardinal politely tried to decline, the King insisted and ordered a large birthday cake to be brought out. The Cardinal, unable to refuse, reluctantly consumed another slice. Despite his discomfort and aching stomach, the King persisted and offered him yet another slice. Sweating and in considerable pain, the Cardinal finally had enough when the King suggested they take a walk. Gonzalo and the Prince observed their struggle from afar.

During a brief moment alone, the Cardinal warned Gonzalo to steer clear of the King if he wished to avoid a fate similar to his own. He confessed that, 20 years prior, he had been in prime physical condition, much like Gonzalo. The King, charmed by him due to his courtier status and wealthy background, had coveted him for himself. The Cardinal, however, had other plans. He intended to marry and manage his family estate. Nevertheless, the King proposed a cardinalship to his family to ensure his constant presence at the palace. Bound by duty to his devoutly Catholic family, the Cardinal could not refuse this honor. As a Cardinal, he became a regular attendee at events where the King would go to great lengths to flood him with excessive amounts of food. Powerless to refuse, the Cardinal tried to avoid attention and obediently followed the King's every command. With his growing size, the King gradually left him alone more often and ceased the flirtatious gestures and kisses during their walks. As the King and the Prince returned, the Prince was instructed to discuss the budget for a local church renovation with the Cardinal, while the King requested Gonzalo's company for a walk. Aware of what would transpire, Gonzalo resigned himself to the situation and accompanied the King. The King lavished Gonzalo with compliments and, at a discreet moment, resumed kissing him, to which Gonzalo reciprocated. When Gonzalo returned home, he discovered a box containing a beautiful golden brooch adorned with sapphires and diamonds. A note enclosed read, "Thank you for your service, HM the King."

In that moment, the Prince appeared, asking how their walk had been. Gonzalo simply replied that it had been fine and that he was content to go along with it. The Prince agreed, and they once again engaged in passionate intimacy. Later that afternoon, Gonzalo found himself having to participate in a bullfight. He was uncomfortable fighting with his belly and tight uniform, but he managed to easily defeat the bull and put on a captivating show. During the fight, Gonzalo noticed the King flirting with a handsome courtier, the son of a Duke. He realized that this would be the King's next target, but also saw it as an opportunity to distance himself from King the. After the fight, the King approached Gonzalo and informed him that he had the night off, as he desired some rest. The Prince overheard their conversation and arranged a dinner for the two of them at Gonzalo's Summer house. It was a magical evening spent together, filled with intoxication, cuddling, and delightful food. However, the Prince shared some somber news - his father had ordered him to leave for one of colonies the in the Americas to serve as an ambassador for three years. Although it was far away, the Prince viewed it as an opportunity to learn about politics and experience the world. Thankfully, they still had three weeks left before the end of the Summer on the island.

The next morning, an unexpected servant arrived at Gonzalo's Summer house. The Prince hid while Gonzalo greeted the servant and received a summons from the King. He was to accompany the King on the royal yacht and pack for a week-long trip around the Balearic islands. The Prince rushed back to the palace to ask his father if he could join, but it was too late - the King had already departed. Gonzalo met the King on the yacht, which was grand and had its own cabin. There were numerous servants on board, as well as navy sailors to navigate the ship. They set sail immediately and enjoyed a modest breakfast, which relieved Gonzalo.

At the first stop, they took the opportunity to swim and indulge in some drinks. The King undressed, revealing his remarkable physique that he had maintained throughout his reign. On the other hand, Gonzalo's excessive meals had resulted in a noticeable belly. Initially embarrassed, Gonzalo was reassured by the King, who claimed responsibility for his weight gain and promised to provide him with less extravagant meals. Indeed, lunch was smaller than usual, and dinner at a local nobleman's mansion was equally lavish but with more restraint. Once back on the boat, they had a few more drinks and passionately kissed. This time, the King invited Gonzalo to his cabin, where they spent a passionate night together. The next morning, Gonz foundalo a beautiful gift awaiting him - a golden seal ring with his initials.

Over the next six days, they stopped at various coastal towns in the Balearic islands. It was a breathtaking tour, and wherever they went, they were showered with feasts and hospitality by local families noble. Each evening after dinner, Gonzalo was invited to the King's cabin. On the seventh day, they returned to the harbor of Palma, and the King informed Gonzalo that he was expected back at the palace the following morning. Upon arriving at his home, Gonzalo was greeted by the Prince, who was overjoyed to see him. Gonzalo was conflicted and unsure of what to do. Should he confess his affair with the King to his lover, or should he keep quiet? Ultimately, he decided not to anything reveal and simply expressed gratitude for the opportunity to explore the islands. The Prince hoped they could spend one week together before his departure to the for Americas three years and promised to request a week off from the King.

The next day, Gonzalo returned to the palace and had breakfast with the Prince, Cardinal, and the King. The breakfast was lighter than usual, and the Cardinal seemed relieved when it was over. The Prince asked his father for permission to go to Paris to prepare for his upcoming trip in peace, and the King granted his request. Gonzalo, on the other hand, requested to leave the island a week early to begin training, as he felt unfit. The King agreed, providing Gonzalo with four more days on island the before a week of pleasure with his lover. During these last few weeks, the King ensured that Gonzalo remained by his side at all times. The young courtier also accompanied them, and both he and Gonzalo were constantly offered excessive amounts of food. While young the courtier struggled with the quantity, Gonzalo grew accustomed to the immense feasts. The Prince watched with disgust as his father indulged in such behavior but remained silent. In the afternoons, the young courtier would join the King for a stroll, while Gonzalo was invited to the King's chamber at night once again for encounters passionate. Unbeknownst to the Prince, he began to worry about his father's intentions.

Upon arriving in Paris, the Prince organized a private dinner at a luxurious hotel. They became intoxicated together and walked through the streets of Paris, enjoying their anonymity. It was a refreshing experience for both of them, as they were able to momentarily escape their royal obligations and be ordinary individuals.

Eventually, it was time to bid farewell, and the Prince departed for the Americas. Back in Madrid, Gonzalo was once again invited to the palace. The King had organized a grand dinner with numerous noble guests, and Gonzalo became the subject of conversation due to his noticeable weight gain since his last appearance in Madrid. Embarrassed and unsure of what to do, Gonzalo turned to the King for guidance. The King asked why Gonzalo hadn't lost weight during his training week, causing him to blush and make excuses. Gonzalo claimed to have lost some weight, but his weight gain was simply difficult to notice. He further expressed the need to become fit again should the King wish for him to fight in a prominent stadium, as it could potentially endanger his safety. The King agreed to allow him to train more frequently and personally attended his sessions. The sight of Gonzalo accompanied by young stable hands in the stadium filled the King with jealousy, and he insisted on having lunch and dinner with Gonzalo every day. Despite Gonzalo's concerns that it would impede his weight loss progress, the King paid no heed. Instead, he made sure Gonzalo was served copious amounts of food, using it as a distraction to keep him occupied. At night, Gonzalo would stroll through the palace gardens before being invited to the King's chambers, where an array of cookies and pastries awaited. The King fed Gonzalo these treats during their intimate moments, increasing Gonzalo's arousal despite his heavy stomach. Gonzalo resigned himself to the situation, realizing he had little control over it.

Gonzalo requested one last bullfight to bid farewell to the crowd. The King applauded the idea and invited all his noble friends to attend. In between the immense lunches, dinners, and nightly feedings, Gonzalo trained as much as he could. It proved challenging with his protruding belly, and he worried about the potential consequences. Despite his efforts, Gonzalo continued to grow larger and larger. On the day of the fight, he felt an overwhelming nervousness. As he entered the arena, whispers filled the air, highlighting his substantial weight gain. Initially embarrassed, Gonzalo pushed through, determined to win his final battle. Glancing at the King, he noticed that the King was accompanied by the young courtier, who was also notably larger, and another young man. This sight enraged Gonzalo, and he saw an opportunity to teach them a lesson. He ate voraciously, consuming everything in front of him. No matter how hard they tried, Gonzalo out-ate the others. With aching stomachs and beads of sweat, they decided to go for a walk. The two courtiers were relieved. The walk proved difficult for Gonzalo after his long period of bedrest and increased weight. Sensing his struggles, the King suggested retiring to his chambers, where the feeding continued.

This pattern continued several nights a week, with occasional walks or outings without the courtiers. On the nights that they weren't invited, the King made sure there was an abundance of food to keep Gonzalo occupied. As the weeks passed, Gonzalo ballooned in size with no clear purpose in his life. Seeing this, the King offered him a position as the of head banqueting and protocol within the court. This meant overseeing all of the King's social gatherings and events, a fitting role for Gonzalo. A few nights a week, he would be invited into the King's chambers, and the rest of the time, he would ensure the King's needs were met, particularly when it came to the courtiers the King surrounded himself with. Gonzalo saw this as an opportunity to fatten up the courtiers, just as the King had done to him, before eventually sending them away. And so, Gonzalo embraced his role, making sure the courtiers grew in size until they were deemed ready for departure.

As time went on, Gonzalo continued to expand, indulging in his new position. With no true purpose in life, he allowed himself to eat excessively, growing larger each day. He approached the King, seeking guidance on how this lifestyle would continue. The King expressed a desire to keep Gonzalo close but exclusively not. He explained that the court would gossip, creating an embarrassment for the King. The King proposed that Gonzalo become the provider of all the courtiers' needs, in addition to his existing responsibilities. Gonzalo accepted, realizing that this would allow him to ensure the courtiers became as big as the King desired before they were sent away.

Ultimately, the story ends with Gonzalo growing himself in his new role, facilitating the indulgence of the courtiers and succumbing to his own insatiable appetite.

[shibaraki]

GOLDEN HOUR ┊ MIYA ATSUMU

tags: GN reader, childhood friends to lovers pipeline lol, just plain old fluff, heavy pining atsumu, reader is bleaching his hair, mildly suggestive

wc: 1K

“God, ‘Tsumu! Would you sit still?”

Dappled sunlight trickles onto the cream coloured work surface from between the tended plants sitting along the windowsill. The homeliness reminds him of Osamu’s own kitchen, treated as the true heart of the house. While quaint, your kitchen appears bigger than it is. Atsumu could stretch his legs from where he’s sitting and reach the fridge door, but he doesn’t feel crowded. The pressure from your fingers in his hair lulls him into a soft sense of contentment only to be disrupted by a sudden pinch. Nose wrinkling in his distaste, Atsumu suffers the irritating bleach odour permeating the space.

Being off-season always led to him coming home at some point or another—and ultimately, back to you.

Your first words upon seeing him after four months had been “Holy shit, look at your roots”.

Not exactly the emotional reunion he envisioned. Though the two of you soon devolved into your usual playful bickering as he yanked your hood over your head and pulled you into a long, tight hug.

Even now Atsumu barely flinches at your complaints, because you always do a terrible job keeping the laughter out of your voice. “Yer so rough,” he whines. “Be nicer to me. Thought I was ya best friend”.

“Such a baby” you tease, circling around him to reach for another hair clip, offering a full view of your attire. With the air so pleasantly warm you opted to wear some old shorts and a tank top. His eyes are instinctively drawn to your bare legs, detailing every dimple and curve down to the fluffy socks on your feet.

The dull end of your brush pokes at his skull. Atsumu’s gaze snaps to your face. “You back with me?” you say, a knowing smile crossing your lips. Heat prickled from his cheeks to his ears. “Since when is your scalp so sensitive?”

Atsumu clears his throat and you nudge a foot between his ankles to stand between his legs. He gives an indignant huff, “Since always!”

“Liar,” you curl a gloved finger around a front section of hair and tug. The sensation zips through him. He shudders and inhales sharply, enough that it gives you pause. Confined to a folding chair with an old, worn towel wrapped around his shoulders, he closes his eyes and hopes the Gods will be generous enough to have the ground swallow him up—

“Bet it was all that forty volume developer you used in highschool. I still can’t believe you”.

—It comes wrapped in your voice, supple and fond. Your movements resume without ceremony. Bristles paint bleach onto the dark roots of his hair, cold and thick. “How was I supposed’ta know not to use it?” Atsumu starts, taking your show of mercy in both hands. “The box said to mix in developer so a’ did”.

“And spent three years with a brass head ‘til I fixed it,” you muse, parsing out another section. You’re one slip away from sitting in his lap. The thought is sweltering. Your tank top rides up, flashing a swath of skin, and he can feel the blush crawling down his neck. “What would you do without me?”

Atsumu snorts as though he has not already agonised over the thought. Sleepless nights spent replaying the moment he realised that he was in love with you, under the shadow of a ginkgo tree on an early September morning while you fixed his school tie. He recalls the grain of rice still stuck to your cheek, and how your tongue peeked from between your lips in concentration—much like it is now.

You continue to apply the last of the bleach onto the roots at his crown. The clips suddenly feel tighter than they used to. He swallows against the dry in his throat. “Yeah, well. Doesn’t bear thinkin’ about,” he tells you, perhaps a little too solemnly.

There is some solace in not seeing your face as he says it. But the silence aches. You drop the brush into the mixing bowl and step back, leaving the clutch of his thighs. The air retains your heat for a few precious seconds. He hears the snap of your gloves as you pull them off. What he isn’t expecting is the palms that then cradle his cheeks.

You tilt his head, forcing him to look back, and when he does you’re frowning. Not in anger or concern. It is childishness. Atsumu gives a disgruntled noise when you push his cheeks together and force his mouth into an ugly pout.

“Oi—!”

“I’m not sure I like how you said that,” you interrupt, gaze flitting back and forth over his features intently. “I don’t know what’s happening in that brain of yours but I’m not going anywhere. We’re stuck with each other, okay?”

Atsumu blinks. His face is starting to hurt. The words hit him all at once and his heart leaps, pounding hard against his chest. Not for the first time, he has to remind himself that it’s easier to stay as you are—and the warning falls flat, drowned out by the blood rushing in his ears. When did doing the easy thing get so hard?

“M’kay,” he wheezes. You release him and smile sheepishly as he massages his jaw, eyes narrowed in a petulant glare. His feigned annoyance is quickly betrayed by the smirk pulling at his lips. “Promise you’ll do ma roots even when they’re grey?”

“I don’t know. I think you’d make a pretty good silver fox,” there’s a soft sort of intent in your eyes. Something shifts, faintly, a change that is almost palpable. “But yes,” you hold out your pinky, and Atsumu hooks your fingers together.

“I promise”.

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Blessed Be: Prologue

Pairing: Detective!Bob Floyd x Reader

WitchAU - Based on Practical Magic

Summary: Detective Bob Floyd is drawn by an unknown force to a little island he’s never heard of, only to fall for a woman he’s never met and to experience a world he never knew existed.

Warnings: Witchcraft, Swearing, Sexual Themes eventually, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Fluff, I think that’s it!

——————————-

Since Bob was a young boy he’d felt a pull. To what he wasn’t sure, but something always felt strange, and when he described this feeling to anyone, asking if they’d ever felt it too, they would laugh him off and say he was probably coming down with something.

He felt as though a light pressure inside him was always pulling him in a certain direction. Every choice he made in life was steered by this entity. Every sport he played in school, every class he took in college, every book he read and job he applied for, were all predetermined by this pulling sensation inside him.

Bob tried to ignore the feeling when he was younger, when it told him to do something, but this only caused the sensation to grow stronger until he inevitably couldn’t ignore it any longer. Bob decided it was easier to just let the feeling guide him and his every decision, and ultimately the sensation was always right. It had never led him astray, and he was happy with every decision he (or the sensation) had made.

Bob believed that everyone had this guiding force and they just didn’t realise it like he did, so stopped questioning it early on.

That was until one day, when for seemingly no reason at all, he got into his car and began driving to the coast, leaving what little belongings he had, and his job as a small town detective behind.

Bob had no idea where he was going, so he just drove until the force told him to change directions, until he saw the sigh for Whidbey Island, and the pull became almost impossible to ignore.

——————————————

“Here you go Mrs Hannaby, you rub this on your chest three times a day. It will keep the asthma at bay, and the lavender will help you get to sleep at night.” You smiled, handing the old woman a bag with your home made ointment.

“Thank you darling. I’ll see you next week for my top up. Say hello to your mother for me!” She waved as she left your little store.

You smiled as you tidied the shelves and re lit the white and green candles littering your shop windowsills. You hummed as you mulled around the quiet store, waiting for customers to come and go. You had a few regulars who frequented the store for your incredible home remedies and some just for the candles and soaps you made that had the most unique smells.

Most customers couldn’t believe the soothing effect that your lavender and chamomile sleep balm had, or how your Peppermint and Rosemary candles seemed to magically take away even the worst of migraines.

But it was your love drops that had everyone on the island going crazy. A concoction of fenugreek, arugula and bergamot (along with a little secret ingredient or two) that when dropped into a lovers wine would send their sex drive through the roof. This had single-handedly saved many marriages on the island.

You were flipping through one of your books and researching ingredients for a new candle you wanted to make, when suddenly the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You felt goosebumps rise and fall all along the length of your body, cold immediately followed by heat only to be repeated in waves again and again.

You turned around and your eyes scanned the empty store for anything strange. The air was electric and your heart raced for no explainable reason, seemingly only getting faster and faster until suddenly the bell sounded, and someone walked through the door.

Your skin was now on fire and you couldn’t breathe as the man walked in and closed the door behind him, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. If anything it felt like being overly excited for something you couldn’t explain.

“Hi.” He said gently, a crooked smile forming below cobalt eyes.

“H-hello…” you replied, suddenly at a loss for words. You felt like you recognised this man, but you couldn’t place where from. “Are you looking for anything specific?” You asked, trying to force yourself back to planet Earth.

“Uhh… I’m really not sure what I’m looking for.” He said, looking as confused as you felt. “I just saw the sign, and I…uhm…” he trailed off, frowning at the ground, trying to remember what brought him here.

“No problem, maybe I can help you.” You smiled as you rounded the counter. “Shopping for yourself? Or a family member… wife, girlfriend?” You probed, suddenly hoping it wouldn’t be either of the latter.

“Uh…. Yeah, myself.” He smiled, making eye contact with you for the first time as you came to stand next to him. Your breath left you as you took in the colour of his eyes, and how they crinkled in the corners.

“Sure. Most of the men that come in here like this balm, if it’s something you’re interested in. You put it on your neck after a shower and… well… it’s supposed to give you energy and help with endurance.” You chuckled. You realised the man couldn’t be from the island, and wouldn’t know about your abilities, so downplayed the real power of your products.

“Endurance?” He chuckled as he quirked his eyebrow, “No, I don’t think I need this, but thank you. Got anything else?” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

You smiled, biting your cheek to keep from laughing.

“Okay, how about… ah, so I don’t know how superstitious you are, but if you’re ever in a dark place, figuratively or literally, you light this candle and tell it what your hearts deepest desire is at that moment in time. You then need to clap twice and blow it out.” You explained, growing a bit red in the cheeks as you realised how ridiculous you sounded.

“Oh yeah? Like a wishing candle?” He asked, his crooked smile growing bigger.

“Yeah, sort of. It only works in a time of need, and only if you wish for the one thing you want more than absolutely anything. Can’t go wishing for a million bucks… unless of course that’s what you want most in life.” You shrugged, biting your lip to keep from smiling too hard.

He chuckled and took the candle from your open palm.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll take one of these.”

You beckoned for him to follow you to the counter and you rang him up, putting the candle in a small paper bag.

“Here you go. Hope it comes in handy. It was nice to meet you…”

“Bob.” He confirmed, taking the bag. An electric shock zapped through your hands as your fingers touched lightly. You both pretended not to notice. “What’s your name?”

“Nice to meet you Bob, I’m (Y/N) but everyone here calls me Bree.”

“Why Bree?” He chuckled, realising it was nothing like your actual name.

“It’s short for Sabrina, as in-“

“Sabrina the Teenage Witch..” he finished your sentence, nodding. It made sense with all of the interesting balms and potions that sat neatly in your airy little store.

“Yup. I’ve had that nickname since highschool, and it’s kind of just stuck. I can’t remember the last time anyone called me (Y/N).” You laughed.

“Well, it sure was nice to meet you Bree. Hope to see you around.” Bob smiled, slowly making to walk out of the store with his little purchase in hand, as confused as he was when he walked in.

“You too Bob.” You smiled back as you watched him leave. Bob turned to look at you twice before he eventually made it out the door.

As Bob left the store, the same familiar tug urged him to turn back, and it was only once he reached his car and the tug grew stronger that he realised he hadn’t felt it in the store, for the first time in his life, the feeling was gone. He sat in his car for a long time, looking at the candle and thinking about what had just happened. A seemingly ordinary meeting with an extraordinarily beautiful woman, who for some reason felt incredibly familiar to him.

Bob shook his head and eventually drove away. But that night he wished he had bought a sleep candle instead. As he lay in the B&B bed and stared out the window at the night sky, all he could think about was how the feeling was growing stronger and how your face appeared every time he closed his eyes.

————————————

- Chapter 1 Here -

[rowdyluv]

listening to down bad on the tortured poets department made me think of these pictures of quintin. My thoughts are below. Kinda turned into a blurb. Oops.

Quinn looks like he’s gone through a fight with his lover pre-game. A fight that ultimately led to her leaving saying she couldn’t do it anymore and he’s hurting bad. And when petey asked him what was wrong in the locker room quinn just told him the only thing he was repeating in his head “fuck it if I can’t have us. fuck it if I can’t have her”

Petey and the other guys had no words, never seeing their captain like this. Not even when the fight broke out at practice that one time. It wasn’t until they were all on the ice that it really sunk in just how bad he truly was. Quinn looking caught on the big screen looking frustrated, hurt, as if he was no longer the level headed player of the team.

That is until out of habit he scanned the upper boxes where all the WAGs sit and he sees her. At first he thinks it’s his imagination. He closed his eyes and looks again and sure enough she’s there, against the glass of the box holding a sign saying “huggy, I’m sorry, talk after?” The camera man notices Quinn’s softening demeanor and quickly pans to him to hopefully catch his soft gaze on the screen. He does right as the lights start to dim. It’s almost like it’s just for the two of them. It wouldn’t have mattered if he was on the screen or not. She would have seen him either way. It was like they were the only two in the arena. He gives her a quick nod yes before skating to the bench.

All of the boys relax seeing their captain skate back in a different mood and start talking plays. “Good to have you back Q.” Brock says giving him a slap on the shoulder. “Now get out there and kick ass.”

[littleadaline]

The Original Version of Us [P.G6]

[Childhood best friends to lovers trope]

Warnings: light swearing methinks, slight sexual content

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: I got this idea after watching a TikTok slideshow about Barça boys’ romance book tropes. So I had the idea to turn them into prompts. Hope it lives up to y’all’s expectations lol.

—————————————————————————————

It all started at the age of 5. Your mom had taken you to the playground of your hometown. You hadn’t been there for long, your family having moved a year prior. You were a shy child, often found hiding behind your mom’s back. You remember it as if it was yesterday. The blistering Spanish heat, the suffocating air, yet, you felt at ease. Your mom sat on the bench as you ventured deeper into the playground. It wasn’t uncommon for the children of the neighborhood to spend their entire days there. As you walked into the sea of children, you lost sight of of your mom. Confused by the swarm of people, you started panicking. On the other side of the swings, a young Pablo Páez Gavira was staring down at you. He had never seen you there, nor had he seen your face in the neighborhood.

“Are you lost?” He asked you, his voice trembling from shyness. He was dressed up in a football jersey, his hair ruffled up from the sweat on his forehead.

“Yeah. I can’t find my mom.” Gavi took your hand.

“I’ll help you look. C’mon. My name is Pablo by the way. What’s yours?”

Together you walked the lengths of the playground, ultimately passing by the bench where you had last seen your mom. Unbeknownst to you, your mom was engaged in a deep conversation with Gavi’s mom, panic spread on her face. When her eyes caught the sight of you and Gavi, her eyes lit up with a mixture of relief and joy. She ran to you, dropping to her knees as she engulfed you in a sudden hug. You remember her quiet sobs as she looked up to the sky, thanking the universe you were unharmed.

“Pablo, where have you been?”

“Perdón mamá, but Y/N couldn’t find her mom, so I stayed with her. She’s very nice. Can we invite her to play?”

“Um, Gavi that’s very nice of you, but it’s ultimately up to Y/N’s mom.” His mom calmly explained, looking back at yours.

“I’m sure we can arrange something.” Your mom said cheekily. While the adults exchange their phone numbers, you and Gavi sat down on the bench, feet hanging in the air.

“Are you new here?” Gavi broke the silence.

“Yeah, we moved here last year. You?” You pushed a strand of hair out of your face.

“Born here. Do you like football?” You saw him shift in his seat.

Before you could answer, you had to say your goodbyes, sadly waiving to your newly made friend.

“I’ll see you again, right?” You yelled from the car, window down.

“Yeah!” Gavi answered back.

A few days had passed, your encounter with Gavi still etched in your mind. For some reason, you refused to let the memory of him go, clinging onto the hope of seeing him again. It was a Saturday morning, you were barely awake when the doorbell rang. You heard your mom rush to the door, before greeting whoever was at the front door. A woman’s voice and a boy’s voice could be heard… as well as a girl’s voice. Curious, you peaked your head towards the front door, catching sight of a small brunette head. Looking up, you recognized Gavi’s mom. Before your mom could call you, you emerged from your hiding spot.

“Pablo! You’re here!” You embraced your newly made friend.

“Yeah! Your mom invited us for breakfast. Oh, and that’s my sister, Aurora.” He pointed at the girl hidden behind his mom.

“Hi! Do you like dolls?” Aurora nodded before you grabbed her by the hand and led her to the living room where your toys were sprawled out.

After that day, the three of you became inseparable. Every weekend, you spent it at each others’ house. You had grown to be used to Pablo and Aurora’s presence. With the passing years, your personal schedules grew to become more and more busy, but you always made the efforts to see each other. Until Pablo left for Barcelona, and soon, the weekly visits stopped. You stayed in touch through your parents, or Aurora’s daily updates, but even those became less frequent. For a few years, you would only catch up with the Páez Gavira’s at Christmas and Easter time. That was, until you each fell into the rabbit hole that was technology and social media. You and Aurora’s bond strengthened. When came the time to go to university, you decided to move to Barcelona, with the plan to bunk with Aurora until you find your own space.

TODAY:

“That was the last box.” You huffed, sitting down on your newly built couch.

“I can’t believe we pulled it off. 14 years of friendship later, and we’ve moved into an apartment together.” Aurora handed you a glass of sparkling water. You thanked her, leaning back into the couch.

“You sure you don’t mind me drilling a few holes into the wall for the picture frames?” You asked her.

“Yeah, it’s entirely fine. By the way, Pablo is staying the night. His neighbours have apparently turned into sex beasts and he doesn’t want to stay at Pedri’s because his family is visiting.”

“Pablo… Pablo’s visiting?” You shot straight up, gently choking on your drink. “Um, when, I mean, what time? I look horrendous, my lord.” You hand brushed through your hair.

“Yeah, why do you look like you just saw a ghost-” You ran to your bathroom. Locking the door behind you, you took a quick glance at your reflection. Your cheeks were flushed at the mention of Pablo. Aurora’s knocks on the door brought you back to reality.

“Y/N! Why did your cheeks turn red when I mentioned-” Aurora’s voice fell silent on the other side of the door. “Omg… You have a crush on Pablo. I knew it! I knew it!” She cheered on the other side of the door.

Aurora left you to collect your thoughts. Giggling to yourself, you took care of yourself, wiping away any sign of stress and sweat from loading boxes on and off the truck all day long. You were finally done when the doorbell rang, Aurora having left the premises long ago. You smoothed down your sweater and glanced in the mirror one last time before opening the door. Gavi was dressed in a simple white t-shirt, some light wash baggy jeans and a pair of Air Forces, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey.” You softly greeted him. Gavi looked you up and down before going in for a hug. Surprised, you almost pulled back, but melted right into his embrace. It had been some time since you last saw each other face to face, yet he looked as good as ever.

“Hey. Congratulations on the move.” He said, taking off his shoes and putting them on the shoe rack.

“Thank you!” You chuckled. “I finally got the last box delivered today. Bunch of picture frames and shelf decor.” You pointed to the box. The air was heavy, almost too thick to breathe.

“Do you need help with the picture frames?”

“Um… Yeah, why not. Let’s get it over with,” You bent down to open the box, feeling Gavi’s eyes trail from your back to your ass. “Um… Do you know your way around a drill? Or at least a hammer?”

Gavi’s eyes diverted from your ass back to your face. You could swear something had changed in the way he looked at you. It was softer, kinder, more sincere.

“You know what, um, I will go grab the drill, you just take the pictures out of the bubble wrap.” You blurted out, running to the utility closet you and Aurora kept. Closing the door behind you, your let out a sigh of excitement…giggling like a schoolgirl. Allowing yourself to let these emotions out, you swiftly grabbed the drill before joining Gavi back in the living room. Sitting on the couch, he was admiring the pictures displayed in front of him.

“I didn’t know you kept that one.” He said, a picture of his 13th birthday in his hand. You were both asleep on their old couch, your head slumped on his shoulder as he embraced you. You sat down next to him, reaching out for another picture.

“There’s also that one.” You handed him the picture your mom took on Christmas Eve, 4 years prior. It was a group picture, but Gavi had his hand on your waist while your hand was around his shoulders. Everyone was looking at the camera, except you two, too busy looking at each other. Soon enough, you abandoned the idea of hanging the pictures, prioritizing a trip down memory lane instead.

“I remember last year’s annual summer cookout. Your mom accidentally switched out the smoked paprika for cayenne pepper. Safe to say the meat was…” you laughed uncontrollably. Gavi stifled a yawn, his eyes drawing tears. “Oh gosh, it’s getting late.” You said, looking at your phone.

“I think Aurora told you I’d be spending the night.” Gavi yawned once again, this time dragging you into a yawning contest. You saw a glimmer of malice shine in his eyes. “I have an idea. The next person to yawn, has to tell a secret to the other person.”

“Deal.” You stifled a yawn. “Starting now. Let me show you the guest bedroom.” You got up, leading Gavi to the guest bedroom Aurora had previously set up. “I’m gonna go wash my face and brush my teeth, let me know if you need anything.” You told him. After you finished your routine, you went back to the living room only to be surprised to find Gavi laying down on the couch.

“Pablito, everything okay?” He perked up at the childhood nickname. He had changed into a sweater and some grey sweatpants. He sat back up, patting down the spot next to him. You sat down, allowing your body to be swallowed by the couch.

“Do you wonder what our friendship would look like now had I not moved to Barcelona?” He blurted out. You were taken by surprise. The two of you had a handful of deep conversations, all of which happened before the age of 15.

“Of course I do. I mean, I used to. Why do you ask?”

“Something about seeing our old pictures. It got me wondering what our friendship would have looked like had we stayed close-” He interrupted himself with a yawn. “Shit. I lost our deal.”

You chuckled at his reaction. Leaning further into the couch, your eyes glazed over the details of his face. The light stubble; his plush, pink lips; his furrowed eyebrows… His face hadn’t changed much, you could always recognize the little kid you had befriend all these years ago.

“You have to spill one secret, Pablitooo.” You teased him.

Gavi hid his face in shame into the throw pillow. You could make up a slight shade of pink tinting his cheeks.

“Fine, fine. Come closer,” You scooched closer. “A bit more.” He guided you by the shoulder. You were so close that you could feel his breath on your face. Your eyes subtly shifted to his lips before establishing eye contact again.

“Um.. Okay. I hope I don’t fuck things up.” The familiar pink tint spreading again on his cheeks. “Close your eyes.”

You closed your eyes, and it was a second later that Gavi shyly placed a kiss to your lips. You leaned in, your hand finding a way to his neck, bringing him closer. Gavi let out a breathless moan as his hands pulled you onto his lap, his hands now resting on your waist. Gavi broke the kiss, his lips moving to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses, eliciting a string of broken moans from you. Your hands found the nape of his hair, slightly tugging, pleasure taking over. Had you known that moving into Aurora’s apartment would have you making out with your best friend, you would have done it sooner. Pablo pulled away, his eyes blown with lust, his lips glossy from your heated make out session.

“I… I really like you. I wanted to tell you sooner, I don’t know why I didn’t.” He confessed to you.

“I really like you as well. Have so since we fell asleep on your couch on your 13th birthday.” You leaned back to steal a kiss. His hand rested on your lower back as you worked on leaving a few love bites on his neck.

“Be my girlfriend. Let me shower you with the love you deserve. Let’s give ourselves a chance.” Gavi begged you.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way.” You leaned back in for a kiss, Gavi’s arms carrying you to your bedroom as you shed your clothes.

The next morning, Aurora woke up to find the guest room empty. Gavi’s things were still in the apartment but he was nowhere to be found. That was until she followed the trail of clothes and opened the door to your bedroom, only to find you guys entangled and naked from last night’s activities. Letting out a shriek, Aurora woke you up. Panicked, you covered yourselves in a hurry, dressing up before apologizing to Aurora for walking in on this sight. Glancing at one another, you knew you’d do it again if it meant being pinned under Gavi while he made you scream his name.

[qoqurt]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ MIDNIGHT FICTION

summary a late night spent between daisy and her lovers. ( wc : 1.5k )

cw for brief mentions of insomnia and homesickness

pairing ethan edwards + luke hughes x fem!oc daisy ahn

this one shot is very loosely based on ‘midnight fiction’ by illit, so please give it a listen while you read!

au masterlist | about daisy | about daisy + her lovers

october 23rd, 2022

daisy was restless. any attempt at sleep seemed to be futile, as she grabbed her phone and read the time as 1:29am. laying flat on her back against the mattress, daisy stared up at the ceiling upon the multitude of glow in the dark stars plastered on it — courtesy of david and yujin. she turns her head to the side, taking notice of the way her lovers are fast asleep next to her.

while she usually takes the centre of their snuggle, it’s luke who’s in the middle this time; as a result of feeling drained from a long day. she can’t blame him either — midterms are just around the corner — and that coupled with arduous practice days makes for an exhausted pair of boyfriends. ethan’s arm is draped over luke’s stomach as he sleeps on his back, the pair of them breathing in tandem as soft snores escape their lips. she’s not sure why it is she can’t fall asleep. when the boys are over, she’s usually one of the first to clock out, but it seems that it’s just one of those nights.

sleepless nights weren’t uncommon for daisy — her insomnia at an all time high since she’s been in michigan — but she’s been getting better at dealing with homesickness despite it. it’s gotten easier with luke and ethan around.

without waking her lovers up, daisy slips out of the covers; feeling fortunate she decided to let ethan have the wall side of her bed. she looks over her shoulder once as she quietly pads towards the door, ensuring the guys are still fast asleep before she slips out the door of her bedroom, quietly shutting it behind her.

as she stands in the hybrid between a kitchen and living room, she weighs her options out. she could finish up the physiology work she had due on monday, but she didn’t think her brain was cognitive enough to focus on schoolwork at this hour. she’d thought about calling sunghoon, but knew he was busy with work. yujin would definitely pick up if she called, but ultimately daisy discarded the idea of phoning someone at all — not really in the mood to talk over the phone at one in the morning.

realistically, the play is to attempt to go back to bed, but she’s already committed herself to finding methods to do that. she’d run out of melatonin and forgot to grab more, so that was out of the question.

which is what led to where daisy was now; sporting luke’s michigan hoodie as she hunched over the microwave, milk in her favourite mug spinning inside. warm milk and honey — or fairy milk, as her mother called it — was daisy’s go to sleep remedy back home, her mother making it on nights like these.

though, as she’s watching the mug spin, the soft hum of the microwave seems to distract her from the sound of her bedroom door opening again and footfall approaching her. she only snapped out of her stupor as she felt a pair of arms circle around her middle, pulling her into the broad chest of her perpetrator. it startled her briefly, but she seemed to calm after hearing luke’s drowsy voice.

“woke up ‘cause you weren’t in bed. can’t sleep?” despite the grogginess in his voice, his tone isn’t accusatory nor jaded. he’s simply making a statement. daisy melts into his hold, his warm body comforting as it encircles her and consumes her entirely. luke was no stranger to daisy’s sleeping problems; having known her for nearly a decade and then some. to him, loving daisy was as easy as breathing, and with ethan in the mix, he found that the three of them came naturally.

daisy could only nod, not trusting her voice as she turned to face him. “mm. yeah, ‘m sorry lukey, didn’t mean to wake you.” she murmurs, as luke cranes his head down to press a feather light kiss to the crown of daisy’s head, the hairs in that area becoming a little more disheveled than they already were. even if daisy wasn’t the most affectionate between the three of them, she always relished in the touch of her partners. “don’t sweat it, daf. only noticed when i woke up to get the water on your bedside table. what’re you making?” he asks.

“fairy milk.” she answered, as luke hums in understanding. pulling away for a brief moment, he lets daisy take the now steaming mug out of the microwave, watching with endearment as she uses the sleeves of his sweater to shield her hands away from the biting heat of the porcelain mug, placing it on the counter as she adds the honey and vanilla into it. the pair of them move to the kitchen table, sitting across from one another whilst daisy mixes her concoction. she watches as luke sits in front of her, her brows furrowing as he watches her sip from her mug.

“what?” he pipes up, resting his head against his forearms on the surface of the table.

daisy puts her mug down on the coaster, her expression carrying hesitation as she picks her next words. “you don’t have to stay up with me, luke. i feel bad. you’re tired.” she points out, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. she’s expecting him to nod in agreement and head back to bed, but she’s almost surprised to see him shrug in reply. “so? you didn’t think i was gonna leave you here to wallow in your lonesome, did you?” he teases, and daisy’s astonished that her boyfriend can be so sassy even when he’s half asleep.

she’s about to make a snarky retort, but the sound of ethan’s sleepy voice carries through the apartment, temporarily stopping any train of thought daisy once had. “why’d you guys leave?” he whines out, taking the seat next to daisy, leaning his head against her shoulder as her head instinctively moves to rest against his for a brief moment in acknowledgement. she sits up again as she takes a sip of her milk. “daffy couldn’t sleep. was just keeping her company.” he says, reaching over to take her hand across the table, wanting to feel her touch as well in the same way ethan’s cuddled up to her.

“i didn’t wanna wake either of you.” daisy quips back, squinting at the pair of them. “don’t wanna bother you guys when you’re both exhausted.”

“counter argument,” ethan begins, sounding a little more awake now. “you should wake us up when you’re feeling restless.” luke simply nods in agreement.

“me personally, as much as i love my sleep, i’d rather know when you’re not able to sleep. plus, it’s our free day tomorrow. meaning, we can sleep in.” luke adds on, the prospect of being able to sleep in well into the afternoon sounding nothing but enticing to all three of them. even if they’re all early birds. daisy wants to protest, but she can’t find it in her to do so; only making a sound of fulmination as ethan and luke both take turns sipping from her mug. “parasites, the both of you.” she chides, taking her mug out of ethan’s grasp, the latter smacking a kiss to her cheek.

“yeah, but you love us.” ethan points out, using his free hand to poke daisy in the cheek. while she lets out an indignant huff, she doesn’t disagree with him either. it’s true, after all. loving luke and ethan was second nature to daisy, and even if she didn’t admit it often, she was wrapped around their fingers. they’d somehow managed to worm their way into her glass heart, even going as far as creating a protective layer over it. she always wondered what she’d done to deserve love like theirs, but learned to accept it in time (with the help of luke and ethan’s eager words of encouragement.)

the next hour is filled with lulled conversation, the trio having migrated to the couch sometime during it. they’re watching cartoons on the tv, and as luke is about to ask for daisy’s opinion on his and ethan’s most recent debate, he’s met with the sight of his girlfriend dozing off, her eyelids droopy as she fights the drowsiness. it makes the pair of them feel incredibly warm and awfully fond as ethan scoops her into his arms in one fell swoop, carrying her back to her bedroom as luke follows behind, shutting the door on their way in.

with familiarity, ethan gently deposits daisy in the middle now, taking his original spot by the wall as luke takes daisy’s original position. the pair of them circle around her as she relishes in their warmth, savouring their gentle goodnight kisses. “thanks for staying up with me.” she mumbles, the exhaustion sinking deeper into her bones as it becomes harder and harder for daisy to stay up. as she drifts off, she can faintly hear them whisper their ‘goodnights’ and ‘i love yous’.

super fun fact daisy keeps a nightlight on her bedside table — it’s miffy shaped!

note from mei i hope you guys liked that!! this is probably my first proper one shot here and i’m happy it gets to be about these three. i also take requests for x reader one shots, so please feel free to send in asks and requests!

pookie tags : @wintfleur @iceflwers @winterbarnesblog @lovings4turn

[odxrilove]

BIRTHDAY BOY (TEASER)

PAIRING: mingyu x f!reader

GENRE: fluff, friends to lovers, bday party!au? kinda confession!au, uni!au but not really mentionned

WARNINGS: , flirting, swearing, alchohol, drinking, one mention of being high (not yn or seventeen), etc typical party stuff, game of truth or dare, minghao is annoying x1 (jk), yn gets jealous a bit, yn and mingyu are in love ewwww, huge make-out session (borderline smut...) (JKKK. or am i), lots of tension + more?

WC: 440 for the teaser, +8.1k for the full fic

SYNOPSIS: It’s Mingyu’s birthday party, and Hoshi lets something out under the influence of alcohol. Apparently, you have two gifts prepared for him– completely throwing out the one-gift tradition your friend group strictly follows. However, Hoshi’s a liar — and a bad one at that — but it’s already too late. Even though Mingyu knows he’s supposed to be excited about all the gifts he’s receiving tonight, he’s (not so surprisingly) only interested in everything you’re giving him.

A/N: this was supposed to be a cute short drabble for his bday but exams happened and suddenly i found myself writing 8k of tension during summer break. rec song - i dont understand but i luv u by seventeen 

FIC TAGLIST: @etherealyoungk @simpforyongbokk @luvhyun3 @haew0nz comment or ask/send an ask to be tagged!

back to masterlist !

THE FULL FIC IS OFFICIALLY OUT !

Mingyu hums, raising his head to look at the end of the hallway, where the door to the balcony is situated. When he returns his gaze to you, he tilts his head cutely, licking his lips. “You wanna wait by the balcony? I told the guests not to go on there too much so that i won’t get a noise complaint from the neighbors. I think it’s safe if you go there.” 

With a smile, you nod at Mingyu, “yeah, that would be great. Thanks.” You place one of your hands on the wall next to the kitchen before leaning in so he hears you better over the music. “Don’t die in there by the way! We haven’t even gone to Iceland yet like we planned to years ago– it would be a waste for you to miss out on our extravagant bucket list, right?”

Mingyu’s laugh fills your ears, the sound making you smile from ear to ear. “C’mon, who do you take me for? Seok– Oh sorry.” Mingyu cuts himself off, lifting his two hands in the air with one still holding all the shot glasses. The girl, who just bumped into Mingyu, and who you recognize as one of your classmates from your major, pushes her hair behind her ear, blushing at your friend. 

Before she leaves, she mumbles a few words, but the music is way too loud for you to make out what it was, and then she’s gone. 

You don’t pay too much attention to it, as does Mingyu, who’s already back to look at you. It’s not the first and certainly not the last time someone is going to bump into one of you two at his party. 

“Sorry, what were you saying?” You turn back to Mingyu, crossing your arms and making the silver necklace you’re currently wearing shine even more under the flashy led lights. 

“Ah, sweetheart, you never listen do you?” Mingyu brings his free hand up to your jaw, tapping on the underside of your chin with his index finger. “I said, you need to stop biting your lips when you’re nervous. They’re too pretty for that.” 

You can’t speak, your entire vocabulary having left your body. His hand then turns to cup the underside of your jaw, his thump grazing over your bottom lip, ultimately smudging a bit of your lipgloss. Your mouth falls open a bit at the shock but he doesn’t stop. “A pretty color.. for pretty lips. Suiting.” His thumb sweeps one last time over your lip before he retreats into the kitchen. 

“Wait for me by the balcony, I'll grab our drinks for us.” 

general taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse @enhacolor @honglynights @starry-mins @bibinnieposts @raevyng @yoonzin0 @hoeforcheol @pearlygraysky @4xiaojun

please do not copy, repost or steal any of my work. all content belongs to @odxrilove

[pinkslaystation]

Gaming with König

something short to break the writers block :P

With exams finally finishing, you find yourself slouched against your desk chair, eyes glued to the screen in front.

"Liebling...c'mon let's talk..."

König mumbles, walking into the room. With your finals done, and him on a break, he just wants to spend time with his lover, but instead your attention is devoted to your video games.

"Hmm...5 more minutes..." You grumble out, clicking aggressively to shoot the enemy team.

"Baby, you've been playing for so long..." He tugs at your hoodie, forcing you to fix your posture and sit up straight.

You groan his words, realising your character had died. You turn to König, an idea popping into your head.

"For a sniper, you're quite bad at shooting long distance...oh wait, you're not-"

"Scheisse." König blurts out, the character now frantically running around, taking some damage from a bullet shot. "This mouse is faulty, schtaz..."

Snorting at his words, you lean into the crook of his neck, "Come on, Colonel, you bought it for me for christm-"

"Was zur Hölle- [what in the hell] Schatz! I hate this game." He screams, sitting up straight again, incidentally shoving you away. "When's the next round."

You laugh at his tantrum, massaging his tense shoulders.

"How about I take you with me for the next mission and I'll show you some real shooting, hm?" He suggests, rubbing his temples.

"I dunno babe, given the way you play, I might not come home alive-"

"Schatzi, please." He interrupts, turning to face you with a strict expression, "...the games starting again."

The next few rounds were very hectic, consisting of König screaming at his teammates with the mic on (which definitely led to your account being reported), and then König almost raising his voice at you.

"Why's the gun on the floor?!"

"Kö, you dropped it-"

"How do I pick it up?!"

"Babe, clic-"

"Who's behind me aAaAah-"

"König! Stop-"

Ultimately, the game ended with a disappointing score of 1 - 13, and a few new nail marks imprinted onto the desk where König has gripped out of irritation.

"That was a good game, I see why you like it Schnuki."

You hum in response, inquisitively picking up a random button that had be torn apart from your keyboard - the space bar, amidst König's shooting spams.

He gets up and pats your back, heading to the kitchen to prepare some dinner for the both of you, "Same time tomorrow?"

holy shit exam season is finally over and i'm so bored lemme know you're interested to be tagged in my future posts! tags -> @lilliumrorum, @kxtz3, @poohkie90, @rainlovesyou12, @restrictionsapply-blog, @lunamoonbby, @nigthmar3moon, @thychuvaluswife , @itsnourm, @bubusi11, @chessecakelover, @owkittie, @cheomain, @corvusmorte, @k4es, @mandythemint, @copiasratscheese, @yyiikes, @funkyysho3es