#but bring him the size of his little anchor | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

forlix · 1 year ago

Text

‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 (besides myself)・l.f.

— you spend three years loving him, six months losing him, and four hours waiting for him to get the hell out of your house. but the human heart is more stubborn than you know.

words・5.4k

pairing・lee felix x gn!reader

genres・babysitter!au, girldad!lix, nobody look at me, toothrotting fluff, more angst than originally intended tbh, exes to lovers, hurt/comfort, happy ending yayyy, non-linear storyline

warnings・cousin has a korean name and experiences one (1) minor head bump, mc is temporarily heartbroken and experiences one (1) breakdown

playlist・house song by searows・glad by tori kelly・let's pretend by del water gap・you were good to me by jeremy zucker

a/n・hiiii my loves, i'm so unbelievably excited to bring u my first contribution to my and @astraystayyh's collaboration, "winter falls" ♡ every time i write for our ray of sunshine i'm reminded of how thankful i am to love him. this fic ruined me. hope it does the same to you (smile)

I. everything

“One day,” you muttered to the toddler sitting on your shoulders, “you’ll experience something deeply, irreversibly humbling, and I’ll be there to witness your downfall.”

Byeol responded to this with an unbothered babble. She then gathered two handfuls of your hair and yanked using far too much force to be biologically possible.

You folded like a lawn chair. “Mother—!”

Oh, that word was not suitable for button-sized ears.

“—oh, my dear mother, why? Why me?”

Technically speaking, your aunt should’ve been the target of your lamentations, but all she did was produce the child presently steering you around the kitchen like you were her own personal bumper car. Your own mother was the one who volunteered you to watch said child during the first weekend of your winter break. Only for an hour until the babysitter arrives, she’d said (raising her voice, so as to be heard over your groaning).

You adored Byeol. She made scarily accurate chipmunk sounds and possessed an immobilizing fear of grapes. She bust out a dance move before she took her first steps. The girl could have you floored with laughter without being able to say more than three words at a time. Still, this was far from how you imagined onsetting your desperately-needed few weeks off. Not to mention it was now half past three; your shift should’ve ended two minutes ago.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. Byeol emitted an excited onomatopoeia like a golden retriever detecting the mailman. Your reaction wasn’t too far off; you swiveled your head in the sound’s direction, sang out “coming!” in a delighted vibrato, and twirled into the foyer, your hands around Byeol’s ankles anchoring her in place.

You cracked open the door and found yourself face-to-face with Byeol’s babysitter. The freckles scattered across his high cheekbones and sloping nose seemed to you like they were imprinted by the sun itself. His hair was dark, falling just shy of pitch black, and long, ending an inch or so below pierced ears. A few misbehaving strands rested over his forehead but did little to obstruct your view of his eyes: profoundly brown and pointed at either end, like poinsettia petals.

He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. You felt your skin warm, your heart flip. You opened your mouth.

Then Byeol hit her head against the vertical edge of the front door, loud enough for it to echo.

The panic that seized you in that moment was truly unlike anything you’d experienced before. You caught one glimpse of the stranger’s expression (as mortified as you expected), and then you were seeing your own epitaph on the inside of your eyelids, engraved with the four words “Death by Furious Aunt.”

“Was that—?” The man sputtered, and his voice was rich and full and accented and just as breathtaking as the rest of him and holy fucking shit now was not the time.

“My fucking god,” you whispered, completely forgetting to watch your mouth. In a hurry, you swung Byeol off your shoulders and dropped to a knee. You leaned in close to examine her reddening forehead and cradled the plush of her cheek; she blinked at you a few times, fascinated by the sudden sight of your face again.

“You okay, Byeollie? That hurt a lot, didn’t it? I’m so, so sorr—”

Byeol started to laugh.

Not laugh as in those little chuckles she let out randomly, like there was something inherently amusing about the kitchen cupboard, but laugh as in a boisterous, resounding guffaw, like a great-uncle at a family gathering off one too many martinis.

This rendered you speechless for the second time in under a minute. Then, you lifted your other hand to cradle her other cheek, her face now sandwiched between your palms, and squeezed.

“I broke my cousin,” you whispered, your voice was so deathly serious that the man in the doorway had to stifle a laugh of his own.

His knee brushed against your shin as he sat down to your left, folding his legs into a criss-cross. You could discern notes of lavender and orange blossoms in the delicate cologne that clung to him, perforated the air and your mind both.

“Can I?” He asked.

“Please.”

Carefully, you shifted Byeol’s small frame towards him; the manner in which he accepted her was so smooth and practiced that there was no doubt in your mind you were watching a professional at work. He settled her on his right knee, then dipped his head to look her in the eye.

“Hi, princess,” he cooed with a dulcet smile. He curved his pointer finger, dusted it beneath her chin. “Why are you laughing, silly girl?”

Oh.

You might just continue your lineage after all.

“Y/N-ie,” she answered, still tittering.

He looked to you with a slight tilt to his head, and you nodded affirmatively. He murmured a quiet ah. “What about Y/N-ie?”

Somehow you sensed that she was about to embarrass you and pinched the bridge of your nose—in preparation.

“P-pretty.” I knew it!

The man let out the laugh he’d been holding back since earlier and tapped on her button nose, lowered his voice to a whisper that he knew you could hear.

“I agree.” His eye glinted playfully, matching his tone. “And so are you.” The bashful, high-pitched giggle she responded with sounded eerily similar to your inner monologue.

The two of you spent a little longer on the floor of the foyer making sure Byeol was okay, and then the girl upped and made a mad dash for the kitchen while yelling something about a horse, and if that didn’t confirm that she was completely fine (albeit incredibly strange) you didn’t know what would. You found her rolling around the carpet in the room adjacent to the kitchen and left her to her own devices while you and her babysitter fixed up a small fruit plate for her afternoon snack. No grapes, of course.

He told you he usually went by Felix, but that his Korean name was probably easier for Byeol to pronounce, with its easier consonants and whatnot. You asked which name he preferred, and he said either or. He was a recent college graduate, a year older than you, who was determined to spend at least the next two years doing nothing but working out his future. He accepted the part-time babysitting position to pick up some light cash in the process.

“And ‘cause I’m good with kids,” he added, splitting apart a tangerine. “So I’ve been told.”

“Oh, you definitely are,” you said, plating a couple blueberries. “You melted her earlier.”

“She melted me. She’s so cute. And you’re so cute with her—I didn’t realize I was robbing someone of their job.”

You turned your head to regard the tot and let out a helpless laugh. Byeol tired of being a human lint roller a few minutes ago and had since moved on to staring aimlessly out the window.

“She doesn’t take me seriously, and I can’t stay mad at her,” you mused. “I would be a nightmare as her babysitter, trust me. She’s all yours.”

Felix held out two overturned handfuls of tangerine slices, to which you quickly moved the platter across the counter. He didn’t respond to your comments as he placed them on the outermost edge so that they looked like rays of sun emanating from a multicolored core. Adorable.

“Will you be around much, then?”

You made eye contact with him across the counter. On his perfect face was a teasing smirk and a subtle blush. Ah, you’d been mistaken, writing off his silence as concentration—he’d been contemplating how to best flirt with you.

“Y’know. In case I need any help teaching her cuss words,” he appended.

It was then your turn to flush a couple shades darker. “Please don’t tell her mom.”

“I won’t, I won’t.” He walked around the perimeter of the counter until he was directly in front of you; the lavender and orange blossoms returned. “On one condition.”

Not even one hour on the job and he was already trying to blackmail you? You respected it. “Which is?”

As he shifted some of his weight onto the counter, something too shifted in his smile, giving it a quality that was every bit as hopeful as it was gentle.

It was then, while Lee Felix was looking at you like that, all dilated pupils and long lashes, when you predicted that he would one day break your heart. You predicted you’d let him.

“Be around,” he said simply.

It wasn’t a question or a demand. In hindsight, you think it was more akin to a birthday wish, ill-fated the moment it hit the air.

II. has changed

Felix pulled Byeol’s hood up and over her ears, and you realized he was right about the winter coat getting too small for her—she looked like a bowling pin. You muffled your snort into your scarf.

“And what was the last rule again?” He asked, his breath puffing into the frigid afternoon in tiny clouds. Byeol sighed like she knew anything of the world’s woes.

“No barking at other kids,” came the sad reply, but a toothy smile spread across her face anyways when Felix nudged the underside of her chin. She loved when he did that.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed. “I believe in you.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” you said, and the wounded look Felix shot you was like you’d just confessed to hating kittens. “Come on—she doesn’t have a good track record. I’m allowed to have my doubts.”

“I dunno what that means,” Byeol announced with admirable frankness, and then turned around and scurried down the porch stairs, scattering fun-sized footprints across the snowy streets.

As you braced yourself to follow her, Felix stopped you with a slip of his hand into the pocket of your puffer. His fingers first aligned with yours inside the insulated nylon, then chased the spaces in between. He leaned in close, placed a kiss on the apple of your cheek, another on the corner of your mouth. This brought a helpless smile to your face, too. He had a way of melting you and Byeol both.

“It’ll be fine,” he soothed. “A little barking never hurt anybody, baby.”

“Lix, last time somebody called animal control.”

“Ermm—a little barking never hurt most people.”

That winter, Byeol was four, and your relationship with Felix was about to turn two.

Funnily enough, you’d never figured out when your anniversary actually was. Felix wagered it was the day you met, as he knew he loved you the instant he saw you; you insisted it was months later, since it took both of you an entire winter break of open-ended flirting and informal dating to label yourselves for real. Imagine your horror when he showed up outside your college apartment on the last day of your fall semester, arms overflowing with flowers and gift bags brimming with your favorite things, the phrase “happy anniversary” on his lips three months before you perceived it to be. You’ve celebrated both days ever since.

You loved the ocean growing up. You didn’t get to visit it often, but when you did you would run up to the water’s very edge so that your toes dipped into the cold—and just stand there, observing, absorbing, until even the seam of your lips and the ends of your eyelashes were studded with crystals of seasalt. You found endless tranquility in its rhythmic whispers and unspeakable comfort in its oscillating waves, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Your fascination stemmed from the folktale your mother used to read to you before bed, about a sun goddess creating the earth. In the story, every component of nature was one of the sun’s beloved children. She allegedly loved them all, but you suspected the ocean was her favorite; it was obvious, the way she twinkled off its ebbing surface, the way every minuscule spot of light looked to you like a handprint of hers, left behind by eons of endless doting.

Felix reminded you of the ocean. Every day you grew more certain that you wanted to drown in him, to let his resonant voice and kind eyes sweep and keep you inside his depths. It was never salt that he pressed into your skin but warmth, stamped and sealed with caring hands and cautious lips. His deep whispers promised eternal love and temporary ecstasy and everything in between. You knew he would come back to you even if stranded in a different realm. And there was no questioning the goddess’ favoritism, either. The freckles on his face mirrored the sun’s very spots like an homage to his creator.

You didn’t love the ocean growing up, no. You had never loved before Felix.

The park was busy when the three of you arrived. Byeol and Felix recognized a few families as your aunt’s neighbors and hurried over to say hello. Your social butterflies.

“I’ll be over there,” you called after them.

Felix stopped in his tracks, looked over his shoulder. It had started snowing lightly on your walk there, and snowflakes now sat atop his sable locks. He looked like a painting. “You okay?”

“Yes, yes.” You shooed them off. “Don’t worry about me. Go have fun.”

With that, you withdrew to the sidelines, an unoccupied swingset adjacent to a baseball diamond covered in frost.

Your baby cousin was brawny for her age, which you could’ve seen coming with how she was hauling at your hair two years ago, but even she couldn’t yet terrorize the playground without assistance. Who better to make her partner in crime than her favorite Bokkie? You couldn’t help but giggle as the two revolved around each other for the better part of an hour, Byeol’s smile colossal as she frolicked every which way, Felix’s smile worried but hopelessly endeared as he followed behind. He never let her leave his shadow. She never tried to.

It was there on those icy swings that you experienced a moment of strange clarity, like you’d broken the fourth wall of your own story. You could feel the winds of change blowing your hair across your shoulders. You were aware of time’s trickling from the gaps of your fingers like liquid mercury.

Your laughter dissipated to a bittersweet smile; your smile mellowed to dewy eyes. It seemed like just yesterday when Byeol was small enough to sit on your shoulders and Felix stepped into your kitchen for the first time. Now, she was scaling a rope ladder with the celerity of a crazed monkey while Felix hovered a wary hand by her waist. The muted sunlight caught on the silver rings he wore, particularly the thin, bright one on his middle finger. You had one just like it, adorning the same place.

The last two years were the happiest of your life. Why couldn’t you remember where they went?

Lavender and orange blossoms announced your boyfriend’s arrival—that, and the sigh of fatigue that he expelled as he dropped into the swing next to you.

“I’m not cut out for this anymore.”

Byeol’s neighbor had temporarily relieved Felix of his post by taking her and his son to test out the seesaw, and you wouldn’t be surprised if the whole town could hear her enthusiastic shrieking.

“You know how people walk their dogs?” You mused. “Some dogs walk their people. She’s one of them.”

For a moment, he could only stare in disbelief at the grin creeping across your face; then, he groaned in a way that could only mean you were right on the money. You gave his thigh a sympathetic pat.

“You’re whipped, my love. It’s okay.”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted, suddenly perking up. “Hey, no barking though.”

“Are we considering that a win nowadays?”

“Do you see animal control anywhere?”

“Good point.”

Felix monitored your expression during the quiet interval that ensued—saw through the melancholy curve of your lips, the pensive slant of your gaze. There was a red tinge to the whites of your eyes that hadn’t been there before.

You saw him reach for you in your periphery. His fingers brushed a lock of hair behind the shell of your ear, remained there for three slow heartbeats, and then lifted away.

“Angel,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

You shook your head. “It’s silly.”

“It’s not.” Not even ten seconds after the last time, he reached for you again, now to take your hand and bring it to his lap. “You know it’s not.”

“It’s just that—”

Felix thumbed over the ridges of your knuckles, his touch so gentle that it could’ve unraveled a chrysalis; it certainly unraveled you. You took a stabilizing breath.

“I wish could recognize my own happiness in the moment,” you sighed, “not just in retrospect. That way, even when it comes to an end, I’d still be able to look back and say with confidence that I was happy once. I’d like that, I think.”

His brows knit together as he processed your words, and, the next thing you knew, he left his swing trembling in his sudden absence and his trenchcoat became a black blur in the cold air.

Felix rested his elbows atop your knees as he knelt in front of you, cradled your face in his hands. He was achingly beautiful always, but you truly felt your breath swiped from your lungs at the new proximity of his ethereal features: petal-shaped eyes, wind-bitten cheeks, coral cupid’s bow. A painting.

“That’s easy enough,” Felix hummed. “How do you feel right now?”

You had zero agency in the smile this brought to your face. You wrapped your hands around his wrists, your answer quick, thoughtless. “Happy.”

He pressed his lips to the space between your eyes. “And now?”

“Happier.”

He pressed his lips to the curve of your jaw. “What about now?”

“Even happier.”

His gaze flickered to his final destination, but you beat him to it, sealing your mouth against his with urgency. The kiss that followed was so intensely loving that your head went fuzzy. How was it that you felt his adoration for you even in his pliant lips, his velvet tongue? You ran your fingers through the part of his hair. You loved when you could feel the locks flutter back into place afterwards.

“GET A ROOM!”

You and Felix pulled away from one another, wearing matching expressions of bewilderment. Byeol was approximately five Newtons away from soaring off into the stratosphere, her legs jostling around as she clung to her seat for dear life. It seemed your neighbor had a very aggressive way of seesaw-maneuvering. It seemed your cousin had a very aggressive vocabulary.

“Where did she learn—?” The two of you began in unison, then shot your heads back towards each other.

“It had to be you.”

“Outrageous—you’re the Australian here!”

“You cuss like one too!”

“Because of you!”

“So we’re just lying now?”

“Well, yes.”

Felix cracked a smile—and then the two of you were dying of laughter, his right eye squinting closed and your forehead thudding onto his shoulder. You hardly managed to get out your next words. “We have to do something about her vernacular, don’t we?”

“Oh, badly,” he replied. “Badly.”

After you expended your giggles, you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, blissful, glowing. “Thank you, baby.”

“What for?”

“Being my happiness.”

He angled your face back to his and kissed you once more, whispering I love you like it wasn’t enough that it graced your ears; he needed it embossed upon your flesh in permanent ink.

Your intermingled breaths floated up into the air like flare signals over a capsizing boat. Here marks the time we were happiest.

III. (besides myself)

He’s blonde.

That’s the first thing you notice when you see your ex-boyfriend on your aunt’s porch: the slightly off-white color of his silky tresses, grown out longer than you’ve ever seen, pushed off his forehead and tucked behind his ears.

It’s not the only thing you notice, of course. His face has thinned ever so slightly, the shadows thrown over his features by the streetlights behind him particularly opaque. His outfit is glorious, expensive, with the black blazer and white dress shirt, the top two buttons undone, the pendant of a silver necklace resting between toned collarbones. His hands are almost overflowing with what must be gifts for your family. It’s impossible to discern all of them from this distance, but you know the bouquet of white poinsettias is for your mom, the batch of brownies doused in sprinkles and icing for Byeol.

But the hair is where your gaze returns, because tucked among the platinum strands are black roots: millimeters of the color you grew to adore, peeking out as if trying to catch a glimpse of you, too.

You’re so occupied with this game of “I spy” that you don’t notice the rampant footsteps coming up behind you. Your six-year-old cousin collides with the back of your leg head-on and nearly topples you like a bowling pin.

“Is it him?” She asks breathlessly.

You come this close to berating her as you steady yourself against the wall—what did I say about treating human beings like couch cushions? But you look down to see her chin resting on the side of your thigh, her eager eyes shining so brightly that she puts her own namesake to shame. Your scolding tirade dissolves on your tongue like popping candy.

You simply sigh instead. “Yes, but—”

“BOKKIE!” She shrieks, and Felix’s head snap upwards at the sound of her voice. His tender smile melts some of the frost laminating your heart.

You crack open the door, making eye contact with Felix for the first time in six months.

“Put everything down. Quickly,” you whisper, and he obeys right away, alarmed by the urgency in your voice. A wise choice.

The last present has hardly touched down upon the wooden planks when Byeol wriggles through the doorway and charges towards Felix like an angered toro. He swivels at her bright holler of his name, lowers himself to a squat just barely in time to catch her in his embrace. The delighted laugh that leaves his mouth as he staggers backwards sounds like the sun itself; you feel lost in orbit hearing it again.

“Bokkie,” Byeol murmurs, her voice muffled in the dip of his shoulder, by the tightening of her arms around his neck.

“Hi, princess.” He kisses her temple, presses his nose against her hair. “Whoa, you’ve grown strong, haven’t you?”

“She takes taekwondo classes now,” you hum from above, and the shock in his face asks the very question that your poignant smile confirms. Yes, because of you.

Felix pulls away, cocoons her cheeks with cherishing hands. “Is that true?”

She bobs her head. “I want to be like Bokkie.”

And his eyes go impossibly, terribly soft, like he’s gazing at the horizon itself. The sight twists the knife in your gut and yanks on your tangled heartstrings. It’s all because of you.

“And kick some ass!” Byeol adds, knocking you out of your sentimental spiral. You clap a defeated hand to your forehead. Felix falls over himself. So much for fixing her vernacular.

A few minutes later, Byeol is pirouetting towards the kitchen with a couple of Felix’s smaller presents in her arms, all too happy to be of help. You linger behind as Felix takes off his shoes, your cousin’s departure leaving the two of you alone in the dim foyer.

Felix straightens. The two of you come face to face. The air hangs so heavily with unspoken words that you half expect it to start dripping.

“Hi,” he says.

You nearly laugh at the cruelty of it. The man you were certain you’d grow old with greeting you like you’ve been forced to sit next to each other on the first day of school.

“Hi,” you answer. “You look—”

The two of you say this last part in unison; old habits die hard.

“—nice,” you finish.

“—beautiful,” Felix breathes, his eyes flicking off to the side abashedly.

Your throat constricts, pulse quickens. Says you. If he was a painting before, you think he’s a sculpture now, his perfection as tangible as if hand-chiseled by the greatest artists of old. As clear as the sun’s beloved sea. You can’t tell if it’s his stylist’s doing or simply a product of him growing into himself.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly. “And thank you for coming.”

“Thank you for inviting me. I didn’t think you would.”

“I didn’t do it for me.”

No part of you wants to see the subtle wince that crosses his face at your statement, so you turn your gaze to his jewelry-laden hands instead.

For a split second, you swear you see the same promise ring settled in the same place on his middle finger. You realize what you’re really looking at only after blinking the phosphenes from your eyes: the thin tanline that it left behind. The realization fixes and destroys you all at once.

Then, Byeol starts wailing about Felix’s whereabouts like an actress hired to spare you from this very interaction.

“Her Highness beckons.” The smile you manage feels like drying cement. “Shall we?”

On your way to the kitchen, you notice the cologne emanating from his person smells only of citrus—no lavender. Its absence steadies you, deludes you into believing that it’s a stranger you’ve just let inside.

That illusion lasts for exactly three hours and forty-eight minutes.

It’s clear that the breakup has your family walking on eggshells, but it’s even clearer that their adoration for Felix has never wavered. You’ve never resigned yourself to the restroom so many times in one night, only to stand with your back against the door, unmoving, unfeeling, listening to the low thrum of his voice through the mahogany. Chatting comfortably with your aunt, bursting into laughter with Byeol, reminding you of the time you considered him family too.

With every glance you toss your reflection, you discover new cracks in your composure. Has he noticed them yet?

After you come out of the restroom for the sixth time, you notice a light spilling from Byeol’s bedroom into the hallway. A low Australian accent graces your ears, followed closely by a tinkling giggle, and your body nudges you towards the sounds before your head can intervene.

You give your cousin’s door a feather-light nudge. It opens a few centimeters more and grants you vision of Byeol tucked into bed, Felix knelt at her side. Both of their faces are illuminated by the flaxen light of the nearby lamp.

Felix brushes her choppy bangs out of her eyes, a teasing smile on his lips. “Can I tell you a secret, princess?”

This wrests from her another fluttering laugh; you swear he’s the only person in the whole world who makes her shy. “Sure!”

“Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“Promise.”

“Not even Snernard.”

“M’kay.”

“Or Bong.”

“M’kay.”

“Especially not Trash the chicken. I don’t trust him.”

“I know, I know, I won’t!” Byeol huffs, and Felix laughs at her outburst. You also snort into your sleeve, amused (and deeply perplexed) by your cousin’s plushie-naming conventions.

“Thank you,” he hums, and he lowers his voice enough that you don’t catch the next thing he says.

All you perceive is the way that Byeol reacts. She sits up straight in bed, resting her back against her pillow. Her features rearrange themselves slowly, awfully, like the spread of cherry-flavored cough syrup over one’s sore throat, into the furthest thing from her trademark too-big-for-her-face smile.

Your stomach plummets to your fucking ankle.

“Why?” Her voice sounds microscopic.

“Well, do you remember what Bokkie’s dream job is?”

Byeol considers for a moment. “Being a singer?”

“That’s right.” He runs a knuckle over the hill of her cheek, the action achingly familiar, immensely fond. “And I found a place where I can do that, but it’s very, very far away. I won’t be able to come home very often.”

The telltale signs appear as he speaks; the final word sets them into motion. A tear streaks down the side of Byeol’s face. It hardly leaves the corner of her eye before it’s being intercepted by a doting swipe of his thumb.

“No,” she replies.

“You've grown so much.” Another tear falls. He wipes away that one, too. “You’re growing so well.”

“No,” she repeats.

“You’ve stolen the light of every star in the sky already. The whole galaxy will be yours someday, sweetheart. I know it.”

“I don’t want it,” she whispers. “I want my Bokkie.”

His vision starts to blur also. “But you don’t need me anymore.”

“We do.”

You know the precise moment Felix’s heart pauses in his chest because it is when yours does too.

“We?” He repeats, and she nods.

“Your dream job is being a singer.” Now Byeol is the one to reach for Felix, her delicate hand cupping the curve of his cheek. Her fingers are too small to catch his tears, she tries anyways—

“But what is your dream?”

It becomes too much for you.

You turn around. A choked sob escapes from behind the hand you have sealed to your mouth, causing both heads inside Byeol’s room to whirl in your direction. You don’t care that you nearly break both of your ankles beelining up the stairs; you only care to get the fuck out of that hallway.

You topple into your room, close the door behind you, and crumble.

Your quivering hands find purchase around your folded legs; your eyes squeeze shut against your knees. Rivulets of tears cascade over your shuddering lips like ruptured barrels of wine, left in the cellars of your soul to age, to spoil.

You never wanted your grief to see the light of day. Pouring your regret over every sidewalk wouldn’t change the past. Splashing your heartache across every wall like the world’s most fucked-up mural wouldn’t alleviate the pain of losing him. He was the one who left, but you were the one who’d asked him to. Feeling, yearning, mourning. Those always seemed so futile.

But you’re not just crying in this moment, rocking back and forth on your bedroom floor; you’re bleeding, the wounds you never treated igniting all at once as if exposed to vinegar, leaving you writhing and gasping in their wake. How you wish they’d been able to heal sooner. Maybe then seeing Felix tonight wouldn’t have splintered your soul like dropped porcelain.

Your door clicks open. Your breath hitches in your throat with a quiet scratch. The gulp of oxygen you intake tastes of oranges.

Every night before you fall asleep, you still think of the last time you visited the sea. The cool sand chafing against your toes, the coarse winds slapping your hair against your face hard enough to sting. The weather was terrible (you neglected to check the forecast before making the drive), but when you stepped onto the embittered coastline, you took what felt like the first real breath of your young adulthood. The fog melded to your skin as if melting a blindfold away, showing you the world in its entirety.

You return to that beach when Felix pulls you into his chest, and there’s no fog this time. Just the faint smell of lavender and your ocean, guaranteed to return after momentary departure.

Feverishly, Felix presses his lips to your temple, the apple of your cheek, rests his forehead against yours. Brokenly, he utters, “it’s you.”

You can feel his shaking in every part of him: the tickling breath, the fluttering eyelashes, the unsteady hand that reaches into the pocket of his blazer. You graze your fingers over his jaw, an attempt to steady his careening heart, only to lose yours in the fray also when he produces a small red box of unmistakable dimensions.

“God, it’s you. It always has been, always will be. Anything can change except for this.” His voice disintegrates as he speaks. You disintegrate as you listen. “Everything has changed besides myself.”

Felix leans back in to pepper kisses across the expanse of your wet features, then brings himself to one fated knee. He flicks open the lid. You don’t even spare the ring a glance; you don’t doubt its perfection. All you care to look at is the love of your life, deliquesced to adoration and tearwater.

“Thank you for being around, my dream.” His soft smile tends to your scars like ambrosia. “Will you let me do the same?”

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ♡

1K notes · View notes

obito-in-disguise · 26 days ago

Note

hello tobi!! i lovee your hashira headcannons!!

could i request one (hashira men x reader) about how the hashira likes to cuddle the reader in bed? maybe to soothe her after she had a nightmare?

can you specifically focus on gyomei? (or if you don’t feel like writing for all the hashira, you can just write for gyomei). thank you so so much 🥰🥰

Hello! I'm glad you like my hashira headcannons, I have like a thousand more in my drafts lol. Sorry this is coming late, I just saw it. My notifications have been bugging these days but let's get right into it!

| How the Hashira Comfort You in Bed After a Nightmare |

Gyomei

Gyomei senses your distress before you’re even awake. He's in the middle of his usual early morning meditation, his zen state heightening his perception of his surroundings. The moment your fear creeps in, he feels it, turning his head as he hears you tossing and turning around in the bed. Your quiet whimpers of fear shattering his heart into little pieces.

He quietly gets up, not wanting to startle you with any loud noise. His large frame hovers over you as he gently touches your clammy cheek, his palm warm against your skin. He looks down at you in worry. On one hand, he wants to pull you from the nightmare immediately, on the other, he’s afraid waking you too suddenly might send you into panic. He decides to rouse you carefully.

He pulls you gently into his lap, cradling you like you're the most precious thing in the world. Despite his imposing size, his touch is incredibly soft as he rubs soothing circles on your back.

"Flower...please wake up" He whispers gently, his hand continuing to stroke your cheek gently "You’re safe nothing will harm you while I’m here."

So when your eyes finally shoot open in fear, you're already tucked safely into Gyomei's embrace. He hold you tighter, bringing you up against his chest as you gasp and pant for air. He places a hand over your racing heart, whispering soothing words to you as he wills the erratic beating to calm down.

Soon, you relax, smiling up at him gratefully. You think about how lucky you are to have a partner like Gyomei, his embrace feels like a fortress, and the steady rhythm of his breathing becomes your anchor as you drift back to sleep against his chest. He’ll hum softly or recite calming mantras until he’s sure you’re resting peacefully again.

Giyuu

Giyuu subconsciously holds onto you very tightly when he sleeps. So when you shift for the millionth time, he grumbles in annoyance, thinking you’re just fussing about his sleeping habits again.

But his eyes shoot open in alarm when he hears your shriek of terror. Both of you sit up abruptly, your body scrambling away from him in fear, the remnants of your nightmare still clouding your mind.

His mouth sets in a firm line as he assesses your state. Sweat beading on your skin, pupils blown wide with fear, and limbs shaking. He calmly crawls over to you, holding his hand out in surrender in case you're still too shaken up.

"Hey...its ok" he shuffles closer, careful not to startle you. "It was just a dream..." he mumbles softly. He holds his arms out for you, not rushing, but inviting you to come to him.

You nearly knock him over as you scramble into his arms. He pays it no mind, quickly wrapping his arms around you tightly, placing a soft kiss to your hair as he rubs your back.

"I'm here now"

Sanemi

Sanemi’s reaction is immediate and fierce, like he’s ready to fight whatever scared you, even if it was just a bad dream.

He watches you toss and turn, his usual scowl deepening, though it’s not aimed at you. He quickly reaches out, grabbing your shoulders and shaking you awake, his grip tightening when you jerk awake, startled and scared.

He pulls you against his chest, his hands gripping you tightly. "I’ve got you," he mutters. "Nothing’s going to get you. Not while I’m here." His warmth is almost overwhelming, but it’s exactly what you need to feel safe again.

He grabs you hips, pulling you into his lap to straddle him, one hand slips beneath your shirt, pressing against your back for skin-to-skin contact, while the other cradles the back of your head. He presses kisses from your jaw to your temple as he grumbles "I told you to stop reading those damn horror fables..."

When you eventually calm down, he’ll stay awake for hours, just holding you and glaring at the darkness as if daring it to come closer.

Obanai

Unbeknownst to you, Obanai often stays awake long after you’ve fallen asleep. On nights much like this one, he's up, his arm behind his head and the other on your back as he enjoys the secure feeling of your body laying on top of his.

His hand idly traces patterns on your back as you lie draped across him. But when he feels your skin grow clammy and notices the tension in your body, his hand pauses.

He reaches down, pulling your face up to examine your expression. He sighs when he realizes you're having a nightmare, the frown etched into your expression immediately giving it away.

He sits up properly, grasping your waist and pulling you up with him. He observes your expression for a few seconds longer before starting to shake you awake. "Hey...hey wake up" he tightens his hold when you jerk awake, dodging narrowly when one of your hands swing at him in panic.

"Bad dream?" he asks quietly, his voice low and soothing, adjusting his hold on you. When you nod, he holds you tighter. "You’re safe now. Sleep." His touch is protective yet tender, and he’ll continue to stay awake for as long as it takes to make sure you’re truly at ease.

Kyojuro

Kyojuro wakes up the moment he senses your distress, his senses attuned your every movement. Raising his head from its position on your chest, he gazes up at your disheveled figure, your eyes wide and chest heaving.

"My love," he says, his voice brimming with concern. "Did you have a bad dream?" He doesn’t wait for an answer before sitting up, pulling you into a tight hug. He cradles your body, his large hands rub soothingly up and down your arms, the action almost magically transferring his warmth into you.

"You are safe here with me," he says with absolute conviction. "I will always protect you." His optimism is infectious, and the way he holds you makes you feel like nothing bad could ever reach you again.

He’ll stay up, whispering words of comfort and love until you’re back asleep.

Tengen

One of his eyes peek open, its long lashes fluttering. He wasn't fully asleep to begin with but is now completely awake when he hears your whimper.

He gazes down at you, sprawled out on him and writhing in distress from a nightmare. His arm around your waist tightens as he pulls you up, muscles relaxing in relief when your eyes shoot open.

"Nightmare?" he asks softly, his usual booming voice raspy from lack of use. He places a large hand on your head, pulling you closer and pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

He frowns when you nod in confirmation. He holds your chin gently, tugging your head up so you make eye contact, staring at you intently with an odd look on his face for what feels like minutes. He grins when you pull a face and laugh softly calling him a weirdo, relieved to have put a smile on your face again.

His lips ghost over your forehead once more before he pulls you back down with him. "Sleep pretty girl, there’ll be no more nightmares tonight. I promise."

He stays awake fully awake for the night, watching over you. His comforting presence enough to chase the nightmares away like he promised.

Hope you liked it! I'm actually glad you requested for Gyomei specifically, he's one of my favourite characters to write. Feel free to request again💞.

Enjoyed the story? check out more of my other Demon slayer fics and more stories! Requests are open! and don't forget to like, reblog or leave a comment pookie♡

330 notes · View notes

ink-n-shadow · 5 months ago

Note

dollification w/ sugardaddy!price where he thinks for you and dresses you up in all the clothing he spoils you in (in more ways than one ;) ) and whenever you snap out of that fuzzy mindset he's all there to hold you and anchor you back into reality i mean what

no because sugardaddy!price makes me SICKKKK😩

PRETTY DOLL

𝜗𝜚 the one where sugar daddy!price gets his doll ready for a fancy dinner

𝜗𝜚 pairing: sugar daddy!price x reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: no smut but adult themes (minors—DNI), dollification, slight dumbification?, soft dom!price, price just being in complete control, so unedited

sugar daddy!price loves nothing more than dressing his little doll, fingers ghosting up your spine as he zips up dress and sponges gentle kisses up your throat. it’s one of the new ones he had just bought you, expensive price tag laying crumpled on the floor at your feet as he spins you around to face him.

“y’look good, doll,” price murmurs softly and reaches behind him to pick up is still lit cigar the its porcelain ashtray, taking a mouthful of vanilla-tinged smoke and breathing it out across your exposed skin as his hand caresses your hip gently. “think y’should wear the louboutins tonight.”

you don’t even argue, simply dipping your chin down in a demure nod as you lean forward to bury your face into price’s hairy chest. the gesture makes a lithe chuckle leave his lips, his free hand skirting up your body to card through your hair gently. “sit on the bed f’me, doll. i’ll get ‘em for you.”

you let price push you back onto the foot of his expansive king-sized bed, leaning back on the palms of your hands and blinking dumbly as you wait for price to return. when he appears from the walk-in closet, designer heels in hand, you sit up eagerly with a lovesick smile stretched across your lips.

as always, price places his cigar between his teeth as he (rather slowly) falls to his knees between yours, calloused palm dragging up your calf to remind you to put your leg up for him. with practiced ease, price slips the heel onto your foot, adjusting the straps as necessary and sponging more prickly kisses up your leg with a soft hum.

“whatcha think of ‘em, doll? they pretty enough?” price murmurs into the lotioned skin of your other calf as he slips the other shoe onto your other foot, eyes fluttering up to meet your glazed ones. when you simply answer with a dazed nod, he’s clicking his tongue and pushing up onto his knees, one hand continuing to adjust the straps of your heels and the other pushing your cheeks into a soft pout. “c’mon…use y’words, sweetheart.”

john’s words make a soft whine leave your lips, trying halfheartedly to pull away from the grip he has on your cheeks as your glossy eyes flutter down to meet his.

“mhm. really pretty, daddy,” you breathe shyly as you glance down at your feet, admiring the nearly thousand dollar heels now adoring your body. "do you think m'pretty?"

they aren’t the most expensive article of clothing on your body (hell, the dress you’re wearing has to be a couple thousand), but they might be the prettiest, a sleek white with swarovski crystals lining the straps and the classic red bottom sole glinting in the light. not to mention the expensive lingerie hidden beneath your dress, or the diamond jewelry littering your skin.

john brings you out of your floaty headspace by tugging you up to your feet, hands finding the slopes of your hips to stand you upright and push down the skirt of your dress that had ridden up. he moves a hand up to push the stray strands of hair that had fallen into your vision, tucking them behind your ear with a gentle sweep of his calloused thumb.

"mhm—always think you're the prettiest doll in the world. now c'mon, we're late for our dinner reservations."

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

417 notes · View notes

geneviveleocardius · 5 days ago

Text

vander and his way of loving you

young vander

vander loves with quiet intensity. he’s not one for grand declarations, but his actions speak volumes. he’ll carry the weight of the world if it means keeping you safe. he’s protective, almost to a fault, but it comes from a place of deep love and fear of losing you. when he’s with you, he softens—his gruffness melts into warmth.

he’s a big guy, and he knows it, so his touches are gentle. he’s always aware of his strength, and he’d never want to hurt you. his love language is a mix of acts of service (fixing things for you, making sure you eat, stepping in when you need help) and physical touch (he always needs to feel you near).

vander’s kisses are slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second. when he kisses you, it’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. his favorite is pressing soft kisses to your forehead—it’s his way of grounding himself and reminding you how precious you are to him. when he’s feeling playful or cheeky, he’ll kiss your neck or jawline, knowing it’ll make you laugh or shiver.

when he’s desperate—when he’s worried or overwhelmed—his kisses are rougher, his hands gripping your face as though anchoring himself to you.

he keeps it simple and heartfelt: love, darlin’, sweetheart. when he’s teasing or feeling extra warm, he might call you lass with a little smirk.

vander loves holding your waist—it’s the perfect spot for him, close enough to feel you near but not too intrusive. he also loves wrapping an arm around your shoulders, especially when you’re walking together; it’s his way of showing everyone that you’re his.

when you’re sitting together, his hand often ends up resting on your thigh, his thumb absentmindedly tracing little circles. it’s a grounding gesture for him and a quiet way of reassuring you.

he’s obsessed with your hands. for someone so big and tough, your hands remind him of how delicate and beautiful you are. he loves holding them, kissing your knuckles, and marveling at how they fit so perfectly in his own.

vander is slow, patient, and deeply attentive. he’s not just focused on passion—he wants to make you feel loved and cherished in every moment. his size and strength could be intimidating, but he’s so gentle, always checking in with you and ensuring you’re comfortable.

he’s all about eye contact—it’s his way of staying connected to you, of letting you know just how much you mean to him. he whispers soft reassurances, his voice low and raspy: “you’re everything to me, love.”

if you died like vi and powder’s parents

losing you would break vander in a way that nothing else could. he’d carry the guilt forever, blaming himself for not protecting you. it would be the catalyst for his transformation into the vander we see later in arcane—a man willing to sacrifice everything to keep others from suffering the same loss he did.

he’d keep little things of yours—a scarf, a trinket—and visit the place where you fell, talking to you as if you were still there. it’s not uncommon for him to sit in silence, lost in memories of you, his hand curled into a fist as he fights back tears.

if you survived

if you made it out alive, his devotion to you would double. he’d hold you even tighter at night, as if letting go might take you away from him. every decision he makes, every risk he takes, would be filtered through the lens of keeping you safe.

your life together would be one of quiet strength. vander would work hard to create a safe home for you both, building a future even in the chaos of the undercity. he’d find joy in the small things: sharing a drink at the bar, walking through the streets of zaun hand-in-hand, or lying beside you at night, his arms wrapped securely around you.

he’d talk about starting a family one day, though the fear of bringing children into such a dangerous world would weigh heavily on him. still, with you by his side, he’d start to believe that maybe, just maybe, there could be some light in the darkness.

#arcane #league of legends #vander #vander arcane #vander league of legends #young vander #vander x reader

219 notes · View notes

babyjakes · 1 year ago

Text

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinkmas 2023

prompt | harness

pairing | daddy!dom!ari levinson x little!sub!reader

warnings | ddlg and dom/sub dynamics (daddy dom!ari and little sub!reader.) me not knowing anything about handiwork lol. reader struggles to ride. size kink. minimal foreplay (pussy rubbing, nipple play.) reference to rope play. p in v sex, protection unspecified. riding (with help lol.) safeword reminder. mostly sweet praise and encouragement, a little bit of mocking/humiliation tho (he calls reader a whore once.) they come together :D!!! orgasm from penetration. he comes inside. soft sweet reassurance/beginning of aftercare at the end.

word count | 1,284

an | kind of scared that people might not like this one, but i've had this fantasy for soooo long lol i just had to finally put it out there. something about a big beefy daddy laying back and casually tugging at a rope (WITH BIG ARM BC. I LOVE ARM) as he pleases to fuck his pretty little baby up and down along his cock, ,, it gets to me 🤤 also if you're confused by the logistics of the harness, i made diagrams 😭

thinking about daddy dom ari with his sweet little subby baby who has a hard time riding him (understandably!!)

you're such a good girl, you try so so hard but it's just too much 🥺 you get up there and he's soo huge you can barely take all of him. and even if you do manage to lower yourself all the way down onto his massive length, then you have to find some way to move yourself up and down along him?? poor baby, it's just too difficult 😔

so daddy comes up with a brilliant idea, he's gonna install some very special hardware in the bedroom to help with your little problem

he makes an entire day of it. mapping out the blueprint in a notebook, checking to make sure there's a sturdy ceiling beam overhead, researching the best parts to buy on his laptop as you lay comfortably at his side, snuggling into him

the harness itself he orders online, custom-made for your measurements. you're curious and ask to see, but he wants it to be a surprise. he makes a list of the rest of the parts and takes you with him to the hardware store. you get to ride in the cart as he's picking everything out 🥺

"you excited, baby?" he asks on the way home as you hum along softly to the radio. he's smiling as you nod sweetly, reaching over to brush back your hair. "gonna make sure everything's right for my little girl," he promises. "just gotta be a little patient when we get home, sweetheart. you can watch daddy work if you want"

you're a little intimidated when you see it starting to come together. he installs the eye hook as the system's anchor in the ceiling and puts together the pulley system with the sturdy rope he bought. he sees your wide eyes and comes over to kiss your forehead, promising, "don't worry, baby. it'll all be safe. daddy's making sure of it"

a few days later, the harness arrives in the mail. he brings you to the bedroom and has you undress, helping you into it. it's not too bulky or uncomfortable, but sturdy enough to be safe. your heart melts as you see the baby pink and white accents he chose. "so pretty, daddy!" you cheer as he undresses himself and climbs up to lay in the center of your shared bed

he gets you sitting up on his thighs, facing him. your poor pussy leaks excitedly as your legs are spread by the wide straps wrapped around your upper thighs. "you wanna play with daddy a little, baby?" he prompts as he softly begins to run his fingers over your bare mound

you take his big cock in your hands, teasing gently at it as he works your clit in circles for a bit with his thumb to warm you up. with the other hand, he's adjusting the ropes to make sure they're all untangled and ready for when he wants to strap you in for your first ride 🤠

his dick and your cunt are both twitching in anticipation. ari can see you eyeing the contraption a bit warily. "you're okay, baby," he hums as he brings a hand up to pinch and tweak at one of your nipples, making you whimper. the harness is conveniently designed similarly to a lot of your daddy's rope work, tightening around the breasts and thighs to keep you prone and in place

he waits for some of the apprehension to leave your face. finally asking, "you ready, sweetheart? you gonna let daddy setb you up in your pretty new harness?" your eager nodding is all the convincing it takes

he buckles you in with the safety-grade carabiners, giving the rope a gentle tug as a test. it jerks you up slightly, bouncing you on his legs. he gives you a wide, nearly greedy smile "okay baby, let's get you up on daddy's dick"

he tugs again, helping you up a bit into the air (though your legs are still resting some on the bed below) and moves you over with the other hand to position you over his hardened length. all you have to do is sit in the pretty gear and let your daddy do as he pleases. he positions his tip at your dripping entrance, gently easing you down onto him as he loosens the tension on the rope little by little. you let out such a sweet moan as you're filled to the brim, your eyes rolling back slightly in delight 😍

"shit, princess," ari takes a moment to adjust to your tiny little pussy swallowing him up. he tightens his grip on the rope, his voice low and rumbly, "you gonna be a good girl and let daddy fuck you now? that's it baby, just let daddy do the work"

he tries to go easy to start but part of him can't help it; he's been waiting for this moment for so long. he gives you a few pumps up and down on him at a gentle pace, but the feeling of you bouncing like that so effortlessly and the sight of your mouth falling open as your sweet little cries intensify quickly cause him to start acting with abandon

the system works so well, it looks like it's straight out of a porno. ari lays back, groaning deeply as he jerks at the rope at whatever pace he pleases. the way his arm looks when he flexes is so 😮‍💨each tug bounces your perfect form against him, your poor insides aching in pleasure as he rams right up against your ceiling

"d-... d-... daddy!" you sob, your little hands flailing a bit as you grow increasingly overwhelmed by his forceful pace

his eyes flash with a hint of satisfaction at your adorable undoing. "c'mon baby, you can take it. remember your word," he reminds you as he uses his free hand to gather both of your wrists and secure them tightly behind your back. you're left completely helpless, nothing but a living, breathing toy for your daddy to use

"d-daddy, it's s-so much... 'm gonna..." he's grinning wider as he sees your impending orgasm; it's rare for you to come from penetration alone

"oh are you, sweetheart? are you gonna be a good little whore and come for daddy? such a dirty girl, getting off on daddy fucking you like this"

"mmmhhh.... d-daddy!!" you're squealing as you squeeze down on his slippery cock. the sight of you coming like this nearly sends him over the edge, he quickens his pace, tugging more forcefully at the rope to bounce your poor little pussy over him faster

"fuck, baby. daddy's gonna come," he growls, tightening his grip on your wrists as his face contorts with concentration. "you want me to fill you up, princess? want daddy to come in that sweet baby cunt of yours?"

"y-yes please, daddy! please, please fill me up! please, want your come!!"

he lets go of the rope just in time, letting you slam down against him as he hits his peak. he grabs your waist to hold you firmly in place as his seed shoots up into you, your walls fluttering in sync with his dick's throbbing

when you both start to come down, you slump forward onto your big daddy bear 😮‍💨he's rubbing your back, whispering so sweetly in your ear, "good girl, so good for me, baby. so proud'a you, did so well. i'm here, sweet girl. daddy's here"

hmmm yeah i don't even care if no one else is into this, this is MY dream scenario let me have it 😭😭

467 notes · View notes

melanated-writersblock · 1 year ago

Text

(O.M.G.P) One Month Grace Period

Toji x Chubby/Plus-Size!Black!Female!Reader

~No Nut November is over, and Toji couldn’t think of anything more exciting than turning you into his free use slut to bring in the new month😘

A/N & Warnings: I’M SORRY YALL I GOT CARRIED AWAY WITH THE STORY IT IS LONG AS FUCK!!! But it’s not just porn with no plot!!! (For those of you that aren’t just in it to get mentally dicked down, I wrote a prologue! The link is below and can be read before you start this fic!)

LIKES ARE COOL, BUT COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE BETTER! PLEASE LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! ALSO DON’T COPY MY SHIT. I WILL KNOW.

Content: Multi-sex scenes, praise/degradation, free-use so dub-con, Oral (f receiving), a small bit of spit kink in there, fingering, shower sex, couch sex, kitchen sex, bedroom sex, unprotected sex, What did NLE Choppa say? MEAT TO MEAT! WALL TO WALL! COOCHIE TO MY BALLS!🗣️ (18+ MDNI)

SONG RECOMMENDATIONS: Freaky Bih from Da A - Louisvt, Fuck The World - Brent Faiyaz, What You Need - Don Toliver, 2AM - SZA, Ambré’s Interlude - Destin Conrade, Animosity/ Dear Xodi - Johnny Rain

Prologue - November 30th

December 1st

12:45 AM.

Your thighs quivered as Toji pounded into you relentlessly, the lewd sound of skin slapping as his precum mixed with your wetness filled the room. It felt too good, you didn’t know whether to scream or just shut up and take it. Between Toji having one arm over you bracing the headboard and the other pushing your thighs back, knees near your chest, you felt yourself getting a little too close. “Oooh- Toji, I’m gonna….oh fuuuhhhkkk~” Toji chuckled at your mewling, “Look at you, only 45 minutes in and you’re ready to cum on my cock like a greedy little slut.” His pace slowed, almost painfully. “I didn’t give you permission to do that just yet, Princess.”Watching his girth slide in and out of you, Toji brings two fingers to the base of his dick where your cream spills out with each thrust and sucks his fingers clean. You can’t help but moan at the sight of something so sinful yet passionate, you clench around him as his slow pace persists. Too far gone and busy chasing ecstasy, you didn’t notice Toji move his arm from gripping the headboard to cradle the back of your head as he leaned his weight into you, with his mouth next to your ear. “Yeahhh you’re clenching around me so tight, you’re such a fucking slut. Taking this dick like the good little bitch you are, you’re so fucking wet for me.” “Unnnhhh~” “Ooohhh, yeah. Yeah?” “Yes-yes-yes~fuccck!” “Come on Baby, I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me~” “Toji don’t make me……fuck…….please…..Toji pleaseee~” His pace picks up, “How hard was that, Hmm? You’re too shy to ask me to cum but you’re making a mess on my cock with no problem.” As his thrusts get harder he cradles your head, blocking it from hitting the headboard, his fingers weaving through your box braids, your floral bonnet long gone, thrown somewhere on the nightstand. You hold onto his sturdy arms for some sort of anchor, as you feel your soul quite literally about to leave your body. You let the sudden wave of pleasure take over your body as you shudder, mouth open, screaming vulnerably, eyes closed, with tears brimming. “Yesss, cum for me, give it to me, give it to me. Ohhhh, Good Girl!”

9:19 AM.

“Ah fuckkkk, that’s it~” Toji hoisted you against the tiled shower wall with your full legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks into you, the supple flesh of your ass moving with ease as he guides you onto him, the steam of the hot shower shrouding the entire bathroom in a thick fog. Your morning routine took a turn when your shower time got sabotaged by Toji and his morning wood. So here you were, getting lifted up and impaled on his dick like you weighed absolutely nothing. Still dazed from the midnight session, the pleasure was intense, and you were honestly, still kinda sensitive. You leaned your back against the warm tiles and pushed your hands on his sculpted chest to brace yourself and lessen the force of the thrusts, but each time you’d lean against the wall he would lean back so your full weight was on him and your breasts were flush against his chest. Despite your voluptuous stature, he was able to manhandle you and throw you around like a simple bag of sugar. One of his many redeeming qualities, and admirable…..but not in this situation. “Come on Baby, you were being so good for me earlier. You sensitive?” You couldn’t speak, and he knew it. Toji got off at the thought of you still being fucked out and a moaning mess. It haunted his dreams all November. Imagining how many ways he could make you cum on him, scream and writhe in pleasure, all while he’s still chasing his first high.

12:04 PM.

You knew the kitchen incident would have to be addressed at some point, but this isn’t how you expected it to go. “Move your fucking hand.” “Toji pleaseeee, you’re gonna make me cum again~” “That’s the whole point, now move your hand and keep your legs open.” You were in the process of making lunch because you and Toji agreed that you both were hungry, but apparently you weren’t on the same page. Toji made quick work of lifting you onto the kitchen counter and throwing your thighs over his shoulders before going to town. Looking down at him from your seated position, his tousled black hair visible as he laps up your juices. “You taste so fucking good Princess~” Toji was wearing you down, every single word out of his mouth brought you that much closer to your next orgasm, “~Thank you”. He stops for a moment to give you a kiss and you moan, tasting yourself on him. “You’re being so obedient” Toji spits, and the long string of saliva slowly trickles down from your clit to your pussy. You look at him full of awe and arousal at how irrationally hot that little trick was. Laughing at your reaction, he spits on his middle and ring finger before plunging them into your dripping pussy. Starting off slowly in a “come hither” motion, he watches as your eyes roll back at the sensation, using his second hand to toy with your clit. “Aww, my obedient little fuckdoll, looks so cute when she’s gonna cum.” FUCK, you couldn’t take it anymore, he’s too good at this. He didn’t even cum yet!

4:32 PM.

“Shiiiiiit!” You cry into the plush sofa armrest as you make poor attempts to squirm away from Toji’s firm grip on your wide hips as he pulls you back onto him. Your ass ripples as he speeds up his pace at an almost inhuman speed, your whimpering and cries growing louder. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m gonna cum!” Toji’s brutal pace finally started to falter, something that rarely happens…meaning he’s definitely close. He pulls out, and some of his precum mixed with yours spills out of you. “Not yet Princess, get up for me.” Seeing your dumbstruck state, Toji peels your dazed frame off of the armrest. He sits at the edge of the sofa, legs parted and sits you on top of him with your back to his chest and your legs spread on either side of his. “Theeere we go~”, Toji slides his throbbing dick along your pussy as you shudder, leaning your body back against his in a moment of recovery, resting your head back on his shoulder. He kisses your neck before moving to your ear to whisper, “Here’s what’s gonna happen…I’m gonna finish fucking your brains out, and you’re gonna cum again while I fill you up. Okay?” All you could do was sigh. “Nod, if you understand Princess…” you shake your head subtly still catching yourself. Toji noticed this, and gave you time before snaking his arm around your tummy. “You gonna be a good girl and cum for me?” He slides into you, and you cry out, “Shhh, shh, shh, breathe. You’re okay.” His pace starts to pick up, “Ahhhhhhhhh~” “I knowww, Baby, I knowww, Fuck!” Toji’s words started to slur as he continued to fuck you, a creamy mess pooling at his lap as you both began seeing stars, “Fuuhhkkk you look so pretty like this, shit. You want me to cum inside of you, hm? You want me to fill you up? Turn you into my…..fuck…..my little cumdrunk slut?” “Unnnggggg fuck, Toji, Yeeeeesssss~” You couldn’t help yourself as the tears began to fall, you were in too deep (and so was he), and too far gone to know what the fuck was going on anymore. Your climax washed over you like a tsunami….so strong until you didn’t even realize you squirted all over Toji and went unconscious for 10 seconds. Coming to, Toji was already grabbing a blanket and water for you, “Good Girl, you did amazing cumming all over me like that. I’m so proud of you.”. You smiled, nestling into him as you settled down. Finally, a moment of peace. On the verge of nodding off, you couldn’t help but feel a particular unsettled energy. You look at Toji, who seems relaxed…but not the type of relaxed that someone that just had an orgasm should be. “Toji?” “Hm?” “You didn’t finish…did you?” He looks at you with a mischievous grin, “Not one bit.”

This is going to be a looong month.

512 notes · View notes

gaytommykinard · 6 months ago

Text

relationship: sal deluca/tommy kinard additional tags: au - pre-canon; friends with benefits; casual sex; secret relationship; closeted characters; hurt/comfort; angst; smut; tommy pov rating: explicit words: 20,479 chapters: 6/6 - COMPLETE!

[read on ao3]

“You still owe me that fifty from last time,” Tommy lifts an eyebrow, a smug smirk on his face. He takes another sip of his beer, watching intently as Sal mirrors him from where he’s leaning against the counter in Tommy’s kitchen.

“One for the road,” Sal had said, and that has turned into another hour of the pair shooting the shit, laughing over half-finished sentences and old stories from calls they’d worked, some together, some at different firehouses.

“Fuck outta here,” Sal exclaims, voice booming in the tiny kitchen and Tommy nearly folds over laughing. “That was fucking fixed and you know it, asshole−” he cuts himself off with a surprised laugh, watching the way Tommy’s still giggling at his exaggerated outrage, the two of them feeding off each others’ near-hysterical energy as they have been doing all night.

“Seriously, get out of here.” Sal says in a softer voice. He pulls another long swig and sets the bottle down a little too roughly, and it slips and rolls off, ending up in the sink.

Tommy leans over to see that it’s still intact, and then looks back at Sal and laughs again, quieter this time. “You’re so full of it.”

“I am?” Sal challenges him with a raised eyebrow, taking a step closer, with that almost-feral signature grin of his plastered on his face, his blue eyes shining with mirth. “I’m full of it?”

It’s ridiculous. He’s − ridiculously attractive.

Tommy’s usually better at maintaining his composure around Sal, but he’s had one too many tonight; it’s been a good night, and he’s feeling free and loose and he thinks he’s allowed to spend a little bit of time with his eyes glued to his best friend’s beautiful face.

He’s not sure how it happened, but one day he’d looked at Sal Deluca and realised he’s drop dead gorgeous, and he knows it, too; it’s so obvious in the way he walks and talks, he knows just how good-looking he is, and maybe that bit of arrogance is part of his charm that has women vying for his attention. But tonight, they’re hanging out at Tommy’s apartment, and he’s the sole recipient of Sal’s attention, and he’s a little drunk on it − maybe it’s not just the alcohol in his veins.

It had taken him a while to realise his feelings towards Sal were less than platonic. There hadn’t been many men that drew him in like that, Tommy thinks, and there was a part of him that always knew that he didn’t like women the way he liked men, but he’d done such a good job burying those feelings deep deep down, that it had caught him by surprise, when they’d resurfaced from his unconscious mind. He’d spent some time trying to shake it off but it seemed like the crush wasn’t going anywhere, so he just let it linger at the back of his mind, simmering under the surface; it’s not like it was harming anyone. On better days, he thinks that Sal wouldn’t even care, he’d be fucking flattered, if anything, a guy with an ego that size.

“You talk a lot of shit,” Tommy says with a tilt of his head. “You should put your mouth to better use one of these days.”

The words slip out of his mouth before he can bite them back, and it’s entirely too flirty, too obvious. There’s that weight like an anchor in his gut again, but try as he might he can’t tear his gaze away from Sal’s, as if to do so would be admitting defeat. Tommy brings the bottle to his lips again, swallows the last few drops of the pale ale, moreso to stop himself from saying something worse.

But then Sal’s face twists into something new, his mouth pulling into a lopsided smirk as he takes another step forward, and says, “What, like sucking you off?”

[continue reading on ao3]

#saltommy #salommy #sal deluca x tommy kinard #sal deluca #tommy kinard #911 abc #my writing #untitled saltommy fic

184 notes · View notes

dipperscavern · 8 months ago

Text

more thoughts about this.. a sinister grin has appeared on my face

you honestly don’t remember what it was about. something along the lines of the lannisters taking you by surprise during the night, or sending you sansa’s head in the morning. either way, whatever it was had you shooting up, a hand on your chest as you’re pulled from a dead sleep. fear engulfs you, tendrils crawling up your spine, suffocating as they enclose around your neck.

the room was dark, candles having been put out long ago when you both retired for the night, bodies desperate for sleep. it’s ironic now, you insisted on putting the candles out, saying something about how you’d both sleep better in the dark. and in this moment, you wish more than anything that they were here, illuminating the tent with a yellow-tinted glow. your mind is hazy with fear, as your instincts scream at you to get some light on — a primal urge to need to see your surroundings in case you weren’t really safe. the rational part of your mind that’s just waking up tells you there’s no need. you’re with robb, he’s right next to you. he’d kill for you- die for you. you’re safe.

it’s like he can hear your thoughts. a hand reaches out for you, bringing you out of your head as you look in its direction, forgetting you won’t be able to see its owner. his hand is blindly looking for you, a half-asleep robb doing his best to assess the disruption of your sleep. you swallow, moving to wrap your hand around his. his touch anchors you, your mind focusing on the warmth emanating from him, instead of the nightmare that had you awake in the first place.

“y’okay?”

his voice breaks through the thick atmosphere, slicing its way through the small bubble you’ve built around yourself. part of you wants to tell him the truth, that no, you’re not okay. there’s surprise armies & headless men haunting your dreams, and you need him to be a big bad wolf and chase them off for you. but the other part of you knows he’d stay up as long as it took to make you feel better, and he gets so little sleep as is. it takes a lot to drag him from his work, and actually have him sleep a whole night through- without waking up in the middle of it to fuss over his war maps. the rational side of you reminds you of his devotion, and how he’d never mind helping you — which is true, he wouldn’t, but rationalism doesn’t win this time.

“yes- yes, m’fine, go back to sleep.”

“you’re a bad liar.”

you dread him not believing you, but a small, guilty part of you is glad he doesn’t, that he knows you so well. that he knows your hurried tone, your irregular pattern of breathing means you are definitely not fine.

what would have made you roll your eyes any other time, has you huffing out a breath of laughter as he sits up. the hand of his you aren’t holding comes to soothingly rub up & down your back, mimicking when you & catelyn would do the same to comfort him.

“c’mon, talk to me pretty. what’s got you up, hm?”

his gentle coaxing does wonders to break your resolve, cutting through your “will of steel” like butter. you sigh.

“no- robb, it’s silly.”

“thats not what i asked,” his tone grows firm, authority dripping from his voice, “whats botherin’ you?”

“jus’ a nightmare.”

your voice is quiet, borderline guilty. you & robb are at war- you’ve killed people with zero hesitation, stood up to men twice your size, and a nightmare is your kryptonite? it makes you feel silly, and you don’t want to bother robb with it, he should be able to rely on his lady.

“they took us by surprise. while we slept.”

robb is quick to reassure you. “anyone that wants to get to you has to get past me.”

you hum in agreement, body relaxing at his words. you already knew this, but hearing him say it made you believe it. you take comfort in knowing greywind is laid asleep by the door- you sleep guarded by not one, but two wolves.

“how can i fix it?”

the silence is palpable as you search for an answer, mind mulling over all the solutions you could think of, trying to pick the one that would settle you most. you find one soon enough, hoping your request isn’t too much to ask.

“make me forget? please?”

robb murmurs agreement, and even with darkness coating the room- you can hear his smile. it’s no secret that robb desires you. every hour of every day he thinks about you, & his favorite thing to do is fix your problems. what better thing is there than doing both at the same time? and plus, you asked so nicely…

so he makes you forget. his lips trail all over your body, licking & sucking at any skin they can reach, making your brain mushy with his touch. he slides his fingers into the warm, wet place between your thighs, making you gush all over his hand to prep you to take his cock. all the while, he praises you, reassurance falling from his lips while he lines his cock with your entrance, making you squirm from the sensitivity.

“robb-“

“shh- i know, pretty. s’okay, i’ve got you. i’ve got you.”

& afterwards, when you’ve cum twice and lay spent in robb’s arms, sleep pulling you closer — you secretly thank the gods. you thank them for nightmares & wolves.

#game of thrones #robb stark #robb stark x reader #robb stark prompt #robb stark imagine #robb stark x you #sigh #i unfortunately need him carnally #i’m gonna be so embarrassed about this in like ten minutes #the ending is so rushed i’m so sorry this is ass #i’m lowkey a fluff writer at heart #dippers writing style crisis #but anyways yeah i need his children hope this helps

218 notes · View notes

sushis-wild-imagination · 9 months ago

Text

Adore Me (Seungcheol x reader)

Summary: You are to go on vacation with Choi Seungcheol, Scoups, a member of a popular Kpop group Seventeen as a videographer, recording his vacation in Japan alone.

Genre: fluff

its a work of fiction!

Seventeen Masterlist

watch his Japan vacation vlog for more context

"Your hair looks okay, stop playing with it" the manager chimes in while we get some lunch. Seungcheol hijacked the camera for himself in front of him, partially so you could focus on the food. you were grateful.

Seungcheol and you were acquaintance, you've shot with seventeen multiple of their behind the scenes YouTube content so the boys are familiar with you. But this vacation seemed a little extra burdensome. Going with just Cheol and his manager was a bit awkward. You were always awkward around Cheol. Maybe it was his aura that intimidated you. With the other members around it wasn't as tense. "It's too cold here, my lips are chapped" he says gobbling up the food in front of him.

"Eat y/n, the food's gonna get cold" the manager says to you.

"It's it hot, there's steam coming out of it" you mention with your eyes on the food wanting to eat but not burning yourself.

You gather courage and take a bit of the food, immediately regretting it, you could not feel your tongue. You let out an involuntary squeal.

"Yah yah!" Cheol hands you a glass of water, his glass of water.

"Thanks" you mutter under your breath. Unsure of if he heard it even.

___

After lunch, you head out to the snow festival, the first thing that catches your eye are the small snowmen made by kids, there were at least a 50 of them, they were too cute, you ended up taking an insert.

"Are these what the kids made?" a voice behind you startles you and makes you jump.

You put a hand over your chest, "you scared me"

He giggles.

You've never seen him giggle this up close. It was kinda cute. You get why there's people praying to have him.

He catches a small smile on your face. "That's the first time you've smiled at me all trip" he says causing you to blush a little bit.

"Let's get your making a snowman" you say quickly changing the subject and he squats to collect the snow to make one.

He balls up the snow and hunts for twigs to make limbs out of. A kind child comes up to him and offers the twigs he had. It makes your heart melt.

___

The next day you head out to get some pictures in the beautiful snow. The manager felt sick from all the cold and could not make it. It made you nervous.

"Just some cute pictures for CARATs" He says and plops on the snow. He looked smaller than when he usually towers over you. Very pocket sized.

"Play with the snow, do something" you suggest. He ends up making a snow angel getting snow all over his beanie.

A couple more shots and you were done. He was on the snow and he tries to get up but couldn't. A chuckle escapes his lips embarrassed.

"My butt is frozen"

That makes you laugh too hard. You give him a hand not realising he is a huge man. He plops back down. He was now sulking while you laugh some more.

"You did that on purpose didn't you?"

"I didn't, I promise" you say and give him a hand again this time anchoring your feet in the snow a little better.

___

You are now headed the museum music boxes. Cheol stops to take pictures here and there.

"Something's wrong, I can't get this to focus" he says sulking and bringing the camera to you.

You take a look while he was right next to you looking, the cold air from his breathing was fogging up the screen. "You're fogging the screen" you say pulling the camera away from him.

"But I wanna see" he whines.

He's very sulky for a 28 year old man. You found it cute.

You fix his focus and he was now a happy child.

You make it to the museum and you follow him around as he tries out every music box. The way he intently tried to listen to the music from the box admist the crowd and the noise was adorable. His eyebrows furrowed, trying really hard to concentrate. Sometimes his eyes widen like a child, surprised at the tune.

"What song is this?" he hums a tune unfamiliar to you.

You listen to it, trying hard to remember.

"I have no idea"

"ah! It's Celine Dion! Every night in my dreams.." he sings softly.

"How did you not recognise that? Are you new to earth?" he jokes, putting the clock down. You crack a smile.

"Guess I am an alien from the star"

After some more picture taking you head out for dinner. ____

"Is not just my trip, you're allowed to get pictures"

You were clicking some pictures on the streets of Cheol. He thought you should get some pictures as well.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, of course, it's a vacation" he states and takes the camera from you pushes you to the scene.

You awkwardly throw a peace sign as one does.

"Ma'am look here, look here" he acts like a paparazzi that makes you laugh a little. He clicks multiple candids of you laughing.

You check the photos and they've come out well.

"Maybe you should consider switching career, Mr. Choi" you tease.

The pictures were cute.

"It's all the subject of the photo" he compliments and makes your face red.

____

You hand him a chapstick at at the restaurant, you've come to have dinner. His chapped lips were bothering you too much.

"Why are you looking at my lips anyway"

"They're so chapped! Don't they hurt?"

"Aww you care about me"

You roll your eyes, "Whatever helps you sleep well tonight"

He opens his mouth to say something but on second thought stops. He hijacks the camera once again to place in front of him.

He gets a few clips of him eating while you annihilate the food in your plate.

____

You were now walking back to the hotel, today was the last day of the vacation. You were a little bummed, Japan was beautiful, you made a promise to yourself mentally to come back here someday with your friends and family.

"How was this trip?" cheol's voice snaps you out of your thoughts.

"How was your trip?" you ask him, it was his trip. You were only an employee he hired at the end of the day.

"I had a relaxing trip"

"That's all that matters" you smile.

"That's not true"

"Why?"

You hear him inhale sharply.

"Did you not feel relaxed?"

"I did" you look at him confused, there was definitely an answer he wanted to hear, but you were unsure of it.

"Good" he says, looking satisfied with himself.

"Dokyeom told me you've been running around a lot lately" he starts.

"I have, there's so much content to edit, I've just been cooped up in my studio"

"I know, I thought this trip will do you good"

"What do you mean?" you stop at your tracks looking at him. He stops too.

"I asked for you specifically to come with me to shoot me"

You were touched and confused at the same time. "Why'd you do that?"

"I don't know, I thought you could use a break"

You smile at him appreciatively. "That's sweet of you, I didn't think you would do that" you add.

"What makes you say that?"

"It's just you have this aura"

"Have you been scared of me all this while?"

"Of course not!" you don't sound convincing at all.

He laughs at the lack of conviction.

"I hope you're not scared of me anymore"

"You're actually very adorable" it just slips out of your mouth as you defended yourself.

"why, thank you" he says confidently with his ears going red, either because of your compliment or the cold. You weren't sure.

"I hope you continue to adore me"

"I will"

#seventeen seungcheol #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #scoups #idol!reader #idol x reader #seventeen #kpop #Scoups x y/n #scoups x you #seungcheol x reader

300 notes · View notes

supermarketbae · 2 years ago

Text

Mine- Billy Hargrove smut 18+

I’m on a road trip so yk I have actual time and as promised I’m actually posting smth ( not formatted ofc 🙄 who do you think I am? Someone responsible? I think not 🫡) warnings: smut, p in v, fem reader, dacryphilia degradation, praise, choking, breeding if ya squint, slight size kink

I think that’s it…

“B-billy~” you moan as your boyfriend spreads your legs wider fucking into you from below. A nip to your collarbone and a short growl was your only reply. “Fuckkkk” you whine when Billy brings his hand up to your throat and squeezes gently “you still with me darlin’” he drawls placing a sloppy kiss to your shoulder.

“Baby please- feels so good” Billy smirks as you whimper “awh is my little cumslut gone dumb already?” You clench at his words nodding your head vigorously as he pounds into you. “Fucking hell baby-ah-so tight” Billy moans quietly “doin so well~ takin’ this dick so well.” You swoon gently at his words bouncing harder into his cock. “I-ah-I can’t Billy-feels too good-please-I” your moans come out warbled and incoherent but he understands.

Billy grabs your hips moving them as he bucks up into you. “I know baby, I know.” you whimper softly as Billy tilts your chin up pressing a kiss onto your parted lips. “So pretty” Billy murmurs to your reeling form watching as your cheeks blaze a darker pink. His eyes trail slowly down your figure relishing your shaking form that’s hotly pressed to him. “Gonna fuckin’ break you sweetheart,” “fuckin ruin you. All mine-oh fuckkk” you moan at his admission which spurs Billy on further “you’d like that huh? Being mine-fuck just mine-ah my good girl yeah” Billy whimpers. Your eyes widen as you shake your head “yes-hell yes-all yours-j-just yours!” You mewl as Billy toys small circles into your clit.

“Billy need to cum~” you moan loudly eyes teary “can’t even wait can you slut?” Billy groans as you tighten at his words “moanin’ like a bitch in heat baby-oh hell” you let out another drawn out mewl soft, wet tears travelling down your face. “Fucking hell are you crying baby?” Billy moans at your fucked out expression, “Feels too good!” You cry out louder breath hitching “Billy-ah-you’re so big” you stutter. “I know you can take it sweetheart-I’m so fucking close-ah- you can take it” Billy grunts thrusting into you faster and more sporadically. You cling to him in a feeble attempt to anchor yourself to something as Billy groans out “cum for me darlin”

You mewl out a final cry of his name as your pleasure spirals out of control and your orgasm washes over you feeling his cum fill you to the brim. Billy holds your squirming figure as you try to wiggle away and gently fucks you through your high slowing only when your thighs start to shake out of overstimulation and your whimpering into his neck.

“All fucking mine” Billy whispers against your lips

#billy hargove x reader #stranger things billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargove smut #billy hargove imagine #billy hargrove x female!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove my love #billy x you #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy stranger things

949 notes · View notes

forlorn-crows · 7 months ago

Text

𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒚 𝒅𝒂𝒚 30: 𝒃𝒚 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 / 𝒅𝒂𝒚 19: 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔

pairing(s): swiss/aeon words: 1314 notes: they/them aeon (cock/dick for their anatomy, only implied here). a present for dottie: happy birthday @coffeeghoulie 💙

Aeon looks around, nose leading his head in an almost bird-like manner as he takes in the state of the bedroom. There’s twenty or so candles of various sizes and burn stages placed around the room, the walls and furniture cast in a warm amber. All dark wax: navy blues, midnight blacks, and deep crimsons grouped together in trios of moody hues. A dying joint sits in the ashtray on the nightstand—it’s the only scent in the room aside from Swiss’ own. Something light, not too strong; pleasantly heady and herbal.

“What’s with all the candles?”

Swiss chuckles. He shuts the door behind them and loosely crosses his arms. “It’s called ‘setting the mood’,” he lilts.

They raise their eyebrows. “Hm.” Aeon looks him up and down, not-so-subtly lingering on his forearms. “You wanted to play with fire.”

“These things aren’t mutually exclusive, baby.” Swiss flashes his thousand-watt smile, and Aeon can’t help but roll their eyes and drift into him. They slip into his arms and wrap theirs around his waist. Leaning back their head into the cradle of Swiss’ hands when they come up to the back of their neck.

Aeon hums. Smiles lazily. “I have something else you can play with,” they say softly, picking the hem of his t-shirt out of his jeans and slipping their hands underneath. They sway their hips a little too, just for good measure. Swiss rumbles, sultry. The quint ghoul runs their knobby fingers over the softness of his lower back, then slides one of their hands to his front. Palm flat against his stomach and drifting upwards.

“Oh, I bet you do,” the multi ghoul says huskily. He grins, pulling Aeon in until their lips meet, half a kiss and half a shared, breathless laugh.

Swiss’ mouth is warm, inviting—he always makes it too easy for them to open up immediately, tongues gliding out to greet the other in the space between their eager lips. Aeon tastes the weed lingering in his mouth. His natural mint and whiskey flavor. They never tire of it, no matter how many times they’ve tasted each other by now.

Swiss drops one hand to their waist instead, pulling them flush to his own body. Aeon groans approvingly and brings that hand on his tummy higher, higher. Fingers curling into his chest hair and thigh slotting between his legs.

The multi ghoul huffs. “Make me crazy, baby,” he breathes into their mouth. “So fuckin’ crazy.”

“Yeah?” Aeon teases. They trail kisses down his jawline, his neck. Hand dragging back down his torso until they’re palming the tent in Swiss’ jeans, earning them a hiss. “Gonna show me how crazy?” they mumble into his pulsepoint.

“Fuck.” Swiss’ head dips back as he grinds into Aeon’s hand. They curl their fingers, pressing them deeper, groping him through the denim. His scent turns spicy and sweet all at once. Flooding their senses with nothing but a potent cloud of Swiss. They throb between their legs when his hands start to roam, chubbing up as he digs his those thick fingers into their waist, their back, petting over the nape of their neck and pawing at their ass.

When the multi ghoul pulls them into a heated kiss, it’s Aeon’s turn to swear. “Shit—want you,” they pant.

Swiss laughs breathlessly. “Didn’t even get to any romance yet.”

“Don’t have to—can have me however you want.”

The room spins.

The statement steals the breath from Swiss’ lungs, twisting it into a devastated groan. He grips Aeon tighter. Anchoring them both to the spot and resting their foreheads together. His heart’s pounding against his ribs, and he’s sure the quint can probably hear it—probably feel it against that skinny chest of theirs.

“Baby,” he says slowly. His voice breaks with the surge of want that rushes up from his core, but it’s the nerves that he chokes on. Swiss swallows in poor effort to shove it all down. He cradles their cheeks in his hands, thumbs grazing over their cheekbones. Specks of ultraviolet in their otherwise charcoal gray eyes flash in the candlelight as they gaze up at him with parted lips and furrowed brow. Concerned despite the obvious arousal between them.

“What?”

Swiss takes a full breath. “Aeon,” he says softly. Their eyebrows raise a centimeter. “My beautiful bug.” They light up at the word ‘my’, chirping quietly.

Lucifer, he can’t keep it in any longer. “I love you.”

Aeon’s eyes go wide. They stare at him for a painfully long moment, eyes flitting all over his face. Five, six, seven . . .The silence is maddening, but Swiss doesn’t dare break it by accidentally saying something stupid. Their fingers curl into his shirt a few seconds later and they force out: “Oh, the candles . . .”

He sighs, tension between his shoulders dissipating. “Yeah, the candles,” Swiss laughs. “Hopeless romantic, you know me. But ya kinda jumped me before I had the chance to be sappy.”

“Sorry,” they say, mouth scrunching to the side as they hold back a smile. “Could have stopped me.”

“Like hell I was gonna stop you.”

Aeon shrugs. “Fair.” But they smile big then, pulling Swiss into a hug. The multi ghoul wraps them up easily, resting his cheek against the top of their head. They smell like Dew’s shampoo and the electric zing of oncoming storms. Metallic and clear and apple-y. They blow a great big sigh into his chest, and it’s all wonderfully domestic. Something about them not realizing he had wanted to craft a certain ambiance and just falling into their usual, casual routine makes him smile. It’s just so them. He isn’t even bothered by Aeon not saying it back; he just needed to say it, lest it tumble from his lips at a random moment before his brain could stop his mouth from uttering the three words.

Swiss sways them a little in the short span of silence, gaze lost in the flickering flames off to his right. That lingering feeling of arousal creeps back up, but he’s just as content to preserve this little bubble of warmth for as long as Aeon will let him.

It’s not much longer though, the quint ghoul soon pulling his head out from their embrace. Their face has a little color to it, a slight purple hue over their otherwise deep gray complexion. Swiss can’t help but grin at how cute it makes them.

“What are you smiling at?”

Swiss grins wider. “Just you. My cute little bug.”

Aeon shakes their head, amused. “You know that I love you, too, right?”

A flash of giddiness surges through his chest, the entire cavity of it filling with affection. “You love me, too.” It’s a statement, not a question. Swiss fights his cheeks hard from dimpling with delight.

“Yes? That’s what I just—mmpf!”

Swiss dives in and captures them in a kiss, cutting off the rest of their sentence. The ‘yes’ was more than enough for him. He kisses them like he hasn’t seen them in a hundred years—hands curled in their hair, mouths slotted perfectly together, and love seeping from every possible pore. Aeon melts so easily for him, humming contentedly when he licks over their top lip. Where it was heated and fervid before, it’s deep and tender now: a slow meeting and parting of their mouths, over and over without any intent of stopping.

“Fuck, Swiss,” Aeon mumbles against his lips after who knows how many kisses. He takes it as an invitation to lick into their mouth, leaning into the hand that’s started skirting back under his shirt. “Please.”

Pleasure coils hot in his stomach. Renewed enthusiasm taking over as they start getting needy again. “Anything,” Swiss rumbles, grabbing at their waist. Pulling them in until they’re flush against him once more, until he can feel them throb through their pants.

“Take me,” Aeon breathes. “Make me yours.”

please consider reblogging ♡ divider by @ghuleh-recs

#mushy may 2024 #crow writes #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #swiss/aeon #aeon/swiss #swiss x aeon #aeon x swiss #phantom/swiss #swiss/phantom #swiss x phantom #phantom x swiss #the band ghost #ficlet #nonbinary aeon #nonbinary phantom

94 notes · View notes

pooks · 4 months ago

Text

part 7 of straw hat!ichiji and without further ado, we'll dive into the next one; Drum Island arc

Nami is sick

as Nami falls sick in a seemingly serious illness, Sanji is taking it harder because of trauma; he has seen Ichiji become seriously ill when they starved on the rock island with Zeff and he had thought he was gonna die.

Sanji has unresolved trauma when it comes to serious illnesses and Ichiji doesn't know how to fix the problem since he cares very little about his own wellbeing.

with Nami out of commission, Ichiji takes over the nagivating role temporarily. he proves to be very decent on it and uses Zeff's old logbook as his guide through the Grand Line. he notices that since the weather is becoming steadingly colder, they must be nearing a winter island.

everyone has different responses to Nami's illness; Luffy, Usopp and Sanji nearly panics while Vivi becomes worried and anxious. Zoro and Ichiji mostly takes the role as the rational ones.

Ichiji is starting to feel under the weather as well and he wonders if his physical body had a delayed reaction due to his modified genetics. he doesn't fall instantly ill like Nami did, but he becomes more fatigued, irritated and loses his appetite (although he forces himself to eat something).

to distract himself from Nami's sickness and his brother's bad moods, Sanji dotes on Nyansha, their new ship cat who can shift size at will. he likes how friendly and cuddly Nyansha is and thinks back at the Baratie. he remembers how he and Ichiji used to nag at Zeff to have a pet and were always refused because the Baratie was a sea-faring restaurant and he didn't want any animals fall into the water and drown.

Zoro notices that Ichiji isn't doing well and keep scratching his neck, so he asks if he's really fine. Ichiji waves off his concerns and just says "don't worry about it".

meeting Wapol and entering Drum Island

Vivi decides to set course for any island nearby in hopes to find a doctor for the sick Nami, instead of heading towards Alabasta. Ichiji has a brief conversation with her and informs her that while she's already burdened with the serious state of her land, she chose to save another's life and it's not something to scoff at. Vivi remarks that Ichiji seems to understand her better than anyone and wonders if he knows a lot about monarchy and diplomacy (given his prior knowledge of Alabasta and displaying dormant skills of leadership).

Ichiji goes still after that and answers "well, we all have skeletons in the closet, don't we? and no, i don't want to talk about it."

as he tends to do sometimes, Ichiji looks over the ocean and thinks about the brothers he left behind in Germa in favor for Sanji. he always regrets leaving them behind and being unable to bring all his little brothers with himself and he hopes that they're faring well, despite Germa being...Germa.

the peace isn't for long, as an unfamiliar pirate ship approaches the Merry and attacks them. through irritated, Ichiji fights along with Zoro, Luffy and Sanji, using the gun Zeff had given him and Sanji (the very one Sanji aimed at Miss All Sunday). they encounter Wapol, a Devil Fruit user and has eaten the Munch Munch fruit and eats exactly anything.

after attempting to eat the ship, Luffy fights him and sends him flying across the ocean. the pirates retreats, however.

Luffy attempts to cheer up Nami, but fails. it's a very hard day on the crew since no one has apparently been sick before (Sanji denies this, but Ichiji mutters a "lies" but disguises it into a cough). the next day, they're reaching a winter island, Drum Island, and drops their anchor there. but they're suddenly ambushed by its' hostile inhabitants.

Ichiji decides to try to reason with them along with Vivi, telling them that they have a sick person onboard and she needs aid. a villager, however, shoots at Vivi when Sanji was about to defend himself from the same shooting villager.

Luffy resolves the situation, after being briefly angered by the violence against his nakama (and being urged by Vivi to not chose violence as counter measure) and Dalton, the leader, and the villagers decides to help them.

Luffy, Sanji, Vivi, Usopp heads down to the village with Nami and leaves Zoro, Ichiji and Karoo onboard the Merry. before they leave, Sanji notices that his older brother has flushed cheeks, but Ichiji says it's because of the cold.

Sanji trails after Luffy, Usopp, Vivi and Nami, but not before looking behind himself at Ichiji.

Zoro is lost and Ichiji falls

after staying in the village for a while and finding out the nearest doctor, one Dr. Kureha, also known as "the witch", resides on a castle on top of a tall rock-like mountain, Luffy and Sanji heads there with Nami to cure her while Vivi & Usopp remains in the village with Dalton. Ichiji and Zoro standing guard on the ship, in case more enemies turned up.

Ichiji kept himself inside the galley when Zoro decided to train in the cold, since he felt less tolerant to the cold than usual and he wasn't in mood to deal with Zoro "unreasonable training montage". but he got suspicious when he heard a lack of "swordman noises" and when he went to check, he found both Zoro and Karoo missing.

Ichiji braves the cold surroundings of Drum Island, dressed warmly and yet, still freezing as if he had no outerwear. trying to locate the missing Zoro is like searching for a needle in a pile of hay, but Ichiji keeps trying.

his illness starts to process more aggressively, putting Ichiji's wellbeing at risk; his fever sky-rockets, he becomes weak and delirious, and soon, he's gotten himself lost as well. fortunately for him, a sled nears him and nearly runs him over; it's Dr. Kureha along with Chopper (in walk point).

Ichiji doesn't call her anything, but he asks her if she's seen "a green-haired, half-naked fool" somewhere. Kureha doesn't answer the question and instead, inquires about his own health since he looks like he's about to keel over. Ichiji decides to be honest and says that he isn't well, but it's the least of his problems since he needs to find his friend.

Ichiji doesn't get to say more before his strength is drained and he collapses in the snow, completely overtaken by his fever.

(Kureha and Chopper decides to bring him with them, as Ichiji will surely die from his fever or the cold if he stays outside)

reunited at the castle, an unbreakable bond of brothers

by the time Luffy, Sanji and Nami are safely inside the castle, they're in a horrible state; Luffy, exhausted from climbing the drum rock with his bare hands and carrying on his two crew mates, is suffering hypothermia. Nami is seriously ill, hovering between life and death and Sanji is critically injured with a broken spine and internal bleeding from the avalanche.

Chopper and Kureha treats them as the group is in a critical condition. Nami is the first one who comes around and the cause of her illness is revealed; Kestia, a poisonous tick from Little Garden causes a "five day sickness" that ends in death.

she also finds out that she isn't alone in the room she's staying in, she sees Ichiji in another bed and panics. it turns out that Ichiji was also bitten by a Kestia tick (flashback to the post-battle in Little Garden, when he slapped his neck from a "mosquito bite"). Kureha has discovered that Ichiji has a different metabolism than an ordinary human which is why his illness progressed slower than Nami. however, his intolerance to the cold and stress made his body enough weak for the Kestia bacteria to advance faster and more aggressively.

Chopper then runs into the room, being chased by Luffy and Sanji who mistook him for food source. however, Sanji stops when he sees his older brother seriously ill and becomes shocked, getting vivid flashback to his past.

we get a narrated flashback from Sanji's POV. he remembers the rock island they were stuck on, starving for 80+ days. during the five last days on the rock, Ichiji fell seriously ill due to eating lesser than Sanji, exhausting himself by collecting morning dew for his brother, enduring night watches and exposure from the sun. after they got saved by a passing ship, Ichiji was put under quarantine due to his illness being so serious along with starvation. he was ill for two months while Sanji and Zeff recovered. Sanji remembers watching his brother suffer from fever, chills, nausea, etc. he had never seen Ichiji weak ever in his life and the thought of Ichiji dying for his sake gave him nightmares and Sanji cried for every day, believing that his brother would surely die.

Sanji tears away from his narrated flashback, seeing Ichiji suffering in the same state and gets a trauma-induced panic attack. he breaks down crying, terrified that his brother is dying once again, blames himself for not seeing the signs and begs the unconscious Ichiji to not leave him alone.

before Kureha is about to hit Sanji's head for whining so much, Ichiji speaks up, revealing he's been awake the whole time

"Geez, you're still such a crybaby, Sanji..."

Sanji screams of grief and anger, hugging Ichiji and saying...something, but no one is able to understand what he's saying since he's crying and sobbing at the same time.

(foreshadowing to Sanji's "△✕~◑※◇♨*~✖✹" in water 7)

Ichiji is still running a fever and seemigly drifts off, but not before he managed to reassure his little brother and his captain (because let's face it, Luffy is freaking out at the thought of his nakama dying) that he'll be fine soon.

everyone thinks he's asleep because of his closed eyes, but he's conscious enough to hear Chopper's story when Kureha tells Sanji and Nami (while Luffy is off chasing the poor reindeer again to make him join his crew).

Wapol returns and the siege of Drum Castle

their luck runs short when Wapol makes a return to the castle, intending to "rule" Drum Island again (which would lead to more of the people's suffering). once again, Luffy fights Wapol but this time, it becomes personal when Wapol shoots at the jolly roger of the long passed Dr. Hiriluk, Chopper's mentor and adoptive father.

Luffy engages in full battle, enraged over how "fake pirates" like Wapol just shoots a jolly roger without a single respect.

inspired by Luffy, Chopper shows that he doesn't have just medical skills, but battle skills as well and joins the battle. Sanji attempted to join as well, but his back injury flares up, rendering him out of commission with Kureha guarding him.

while his two henchmen, fused into one, fights Chopper and Luffy gets distracted, Wapol sneaks into the castle. he stumbles onto Nami, who's already well enough to walk around thanks to Chopper and Kureha's wonder medicine.

the only difference here from canon is that Ichiji arrives in time, still feverish, and jumps at Wapol, pulling at his hair as the ex-king attacks her (which also gives Nami the perfect moment to steal the key from Wapol).

Nami manages to escape, but Wapol is now chasing Ichiji. the antibiotic remedy against his illness is progressing, but Ichiji is already exhausted and Wapol corners him, intending to kill him. Luffy finds them just in time and engages in one final battle before he emerges victorious, having punched Wapol across the next island with a Gum Gum Bazooka.

Dr. Hiriluks cherry blossom snow, Chopper joins the straw hats

with the antibiotic treatment finally taking effect for Ichiji (due to his fast metabolism) and Sanji is getting his back (painfully) fixed again, Luffy tries again and again to recruit Chopper to his crew

Nami attempts to negotiate with Kureha; she hands over the key if Kureha discharges her, Sanji and Ichiji. Ichiji, however, doesn't want Nami to do that since he wants she and Sanji to recover first (once again, he neglects to include himself) before heading to Alabasta. Kureha takes the key, but says they must stay in the castle...but also that there's a coat in the room and the guards aren't present. Nami takes it as a sign that they're free to go.

when Sanji's treatment is complete, Nami and Ichiji brings him as they go outside. Ichiji is nearly fully recovered at this point and is carrying Sanji on his back, who's still out of it from his treatment. Ichiji takes a moment to reflect on old memories and muses that he hasn't done this since they were kids.

barely some moments later, Chopper is joining them but Kureha is chasing after him with weapons, so the Straw Hats panics and decides to pack it to leave. Ichiji wastes no time getting into a sled, still carrying Sanji on his back. however, they get to witness something wonderous.

using Hiriluk's "cure for the country's cold heart", the straw hats and everyone else witnesses cherry blossoms falling onto the snowy island. Ichiji, with a now conscious Sanji leaning on his shoulder, remarks that he has never seen something so beautiful in his life and it's enough to almost bring tears.

with the perfect send-off to Chopper and having a ship doctor onboard, the straw hats sets sail for Alabasta

#pooks rambles #one piece #one piece au #straw hat ichiji au #ichiji runs away with sanji au #vinsmoke ichiji #scarlet ichiji #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #cat burglar nami #god usopp #nefertari vivi #karoo #tony tony chopper #drum island arc #alabasta saga #zosan #it's implied #the one where ichiji almost dies part 2: electric boogaloo #ichiji calls sanji “crybaby” (affectionately)#sanji is very emotional about his big brother #also ichiji looking for zoro is hilarious #especially when the lack of “swordman noises” tips him off that zoro is gone #ichiji: can't believe this is the idiot my brother will eventually marry someday...#later ichiji be like “never mind they're a match 'cause they're equally stupid”#nami robin and ichiji has them braincells #this took me forever to write lmao

54 notes · View notes

loupy-mongoose · 1 year ago

Text

Fuji stood in silence, the two Mews and the little Mewtwo floating in front of him. Randy's widened, horrified eyes locked onto Fuji's, neither seeming sure how to go on.

Finally, Fuji shook his head lightly and turned away. No... It... I-It has to be a dream... It's too... too surreal... Another Mewtwo, with Mo of all Mews... It has to be a dream...

Lavender floated toward him, casting a nervous look at her parents. I-It's not... I'm sorry... She gently reached out and touched his arm. We're real, and we're here...

Fuji steadily met her gaze. Then the gentle man turned from her to Randy. He looked long and hard at the pink Mew, and in the little bit of his consciousness that wasn't panicking or wishing to wake from this sudden nightmare, Randy thought he saw a lifetime flash in the man's eyes.

Finally, Fuji spoke. You aren't Mo, are you...

Randy felt as if his heart had been stabbed, and his blood went cold. Thoughts flooded uninvited into his mind.

How many times had he tried to convince himself that over the last five years?

How many times had he looked at himself in the mirror, wishing he would one day wake up with his old brown eyes, to find it had all been a cruel dream?

How many times had he been fine, only to be slammed with the fact that he was Mo...?

In his hesitation, Akoya answered for him. He's not... But we knew him...

Fuji's gaze darkened. Suddenly it makes sense why you'd know about Nico...

Randy, who could feel his attention being washed away by his anxiety, snapped back at those words. He vaguely noticed his wife's pelt puff up again.

His voice shook. ...What do you mean...?

Fuji looked at him questioningly. ...Wait, you didn't learn about him from Mo?

Randy felt a twinge in his mind. Mo... hadn't told him... right?

Surly he would remember that...

He... never mentioned him, no....

Fuji's eyes grew sad. I guess that makes sense too... He wasn't exactly happy about Nico...

So Mo knew him? How?

Fuji's gaze drifted into a time long passed. He took a breath and closed his eyes. Mo's DNA was used to create Nico... As an attempt to find a way to bring Mews back from extinction...

But... when he saw what was coming from it... He left...

And... I don't blame him...

His eyes bore into Randy. Are you related to him, at least? You look so much like him...

Randy's ears fell back, and his brows creased together. His voice was shaky and hoarse. ...I.... ah....

Akoya floated close to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. He turned to her, fighting his daze of rising anguish, and anchored himself in her rich, sapphire eyes.

As he took a reassuring breath, Akoya turned back to Fuji. Are we still welcome to stay in your guest room? Or has that offer changed, now that you've seen what we are?

Fuji gave her a warm smile, though his eyes were still clouded with questions and his old memories. My arms and house are open to those in need. People and Pokemon alike. An eyebrow raised questioningly. Or... In between...? He shook off that train of thought. And I'd say you guys are in need of at least a place to rest.

Here you are.

The room was pleasant. A good sized bed loomed in the center, painfully inviting, with a short dresser at the foot of it. Two side tables flanked the head.

There are extra blankets and pillows in the dresser there. Make yourselves comfortable.

He gave them a deep, finalizing nod.

Have a good rest.

Akoya smiled at him. Thank you so much, Mr. Fuji. We really do appreciate it. It's just a... Well, it's been a weird day for us, too.

Fuji smiled back at her. He waved farewell, and they close the door.

Randy, now in human form, trudged over to the bed, leaning heavily on his cane. He fell onto it without a word and lay still.

Akoya, still in Mew form, hovered over and psychically repositioned him to be more comfortable. By the time she covered him with the blanket, he was fast asleep.

Lav, also still in her Mewtwo form, asked her mom quietly, Where are the twins?

Akoya looked at her, filled with a warm love and encouragement that Lav hadn't felt in quite awhile. They're with Persim, outside of Lavender. She thought for a moment and giggled. ...I'm not used to saying that word and not having it be about you.

Lav gave a light chuckle, but her mood wasn't lifted. She hugged herself, her tail resting on the floor around her feet. Her expression dropping, Akoya floated over to her.

I messed up, Mom... I didn't want you and Dad to get hurt... She looked at Randy, sleeping soundly on the bed. But he's still the one paying for it.

Akoya wrapped her tail around her daughter's two necks and gave her a hug on the head. She sighed. We all make mistakes, Lav. Some bring more weight than others. But we'll bare it together, okay? We'll work through this. Just remember, we've got your back. She glanced at her mate. And we've got his back.

Lavender gave a small scared smile and nodded.

Akoya pecked her on the cheek and floated away from Lav, toward where her best friend lay sleeping. She stopped and turned to Lav. You're welcome to join us on the bed, if you want.

Lav's tail flicked, and her ears went back. Thanks, Mom, but I think I'll pass...

Akoya gave her a sad but understanding look. Okay. Hey... We love you. Both of us. Very much.

Lav smiled, half-forced. I love you too, Mom.

She watched her mom fly over and disappear behind her dad. She hesitated, then floated over to him herself. She gave him a small kiss on his head, though she wasn't sure he would be aware of it.

Then she gathered some extra blankets and pillows, and floated over to the corner of the room, where she curled up in a makeshift fort and drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~

PREVIOUS NEXT

ARC START | CHRONO

#Linden Roots #art #writing #BLH #By Lavender's Hand #full

247 notes · View notes

thetormentita · 2 months ago

Text

the woman in winter (se ābra isse sōnar) - chapter 2

one can believe in destiny or not, at the same way one can believe in the power of the old gods or not.

Pairing: Original female! Targaryen x Cregan Stark, Original female! Targaryen/Criston Cole (one-sided)

A/n: oh my, grandpa Viserys... what have you done...

Warnings: mentions of death, hints of Alicent x Criston

Rating: Mature (+16)

Tagging list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen (send an ask if you wanna be tagged too!)

Black wings bring dark words. That is what he has always heard since he was a little lad.

With steady hands he takes the piece of parchment from the maester’s grip, his eyes upon the unbroken wax seal depicting a three-headed dragon, and carefully breaks it, his eyes, grey like a winter storm, roam along the message, his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched only for a moment.

“How long does it take to sail from King’s Landing to White Harbor?” he asks, his voice betraying no emotion but his mind racing with the implications of the contents.

“If the tides are favourable, I would say a fortnight, my lord.”

Through the window he can spot the courtyard, and Robert and Ursula training with their swords, almost trying to teach his son how to wield his own wooden sword, far too big for his size. A sting of pride mixed with concern washes over him as he watches the scene unfold, his mind far away from there.

“It would have been easier to take the Kingsroad instead” he mutters, biting his cheek.

“Then it would take them a moon or even more.”

He sighs, closing his eyes and flexing his sword hand, tense, almost feeling like being challenged by that man.

“My pup needs a mother” he mutters, more to himself than to the maester standing beside him, “, but I would not stand to face such trials from the gods again, maester.”

“One time does not mean always.”

“It is written, and you said it as well: her mother and her grandmother died in their birthbeds.”

The maester's eyes hold a glint of understanding, but also a firm resolve as he addresses the troubled man. "History need not dictate the future, my boy. Such tragedies are more common than we would wish for, but I also heard that she holds a strength unseen in many. She has a resilience that's rare.”

Both men cross their gazes, silent, the ghost of grief still lounging in the air.

At least they had let him mourn Arra in peace.

“I have a feel. I know it is nonsense, but I feel she will not find her place here, that the people will not accept her and her life will be miserable no matter how hard I try to make her feel important and cherished.”

“Your lord father loved your lady mother. Deeply. His love was in the protection he provided, in the way he made sure she had everything she needed. I may not have much idea about such matters, but I could see how her eyes shined whenever they spotted him. Here she may need a friend more than a husband, somebody to make her feel safe and loved. The rest comes by itself.”

“Can I trust you to see her future household is ready by the time we arrive from White Harbor? I want the best hands to tend her.”

When his eyes return to the courtyard outside, he can see the happy face of his boy, giggling, trying to imitate Ursula’s stance, making him look like a dwarf beside a giant. A soft smile curves his lips, reflecting the warmth swelling in his heart at the sight. The innocence and joy of youth, untainted by the complexities of the world, always had a way to remind him of one of his priorities: never let Rickon feel the somber rage that clinged upon his very soul when he was just a lad and his world twisted and turned into a nightmarish reality.

“Of course. By the time of your return she will have her chambers ready in the Guest Tower, after the wedding her belongings will be moved to the Great Keep.”

“Good” he takes a deep breath before his feet drive him to the door of the chamber, pausing momentarily as if the weight of his thoughts anchors him to the spot. “In a moon’s turn, there will be a new lady of Winterfell.”

…

She tilts her head at the great old oak tree, her eyes observing its gnarled branches that stretch towards the sky like ancient, weathered hands praying for solace. She feels a strange kinship with the tree, as if its roots are intertwined with her very essence.

She doesn’t notice the muffled sound of steps behind her until they are nearly upon her, the crunch of leaves underfoot breaking her reverie.

“I heard the closest sept is the one in White Harbor.”

Elia doesn’t even bother to turn to face the queen, her gaze lost in the vast expanse of the tree's embrace. "Aye," she replies, her voice as soft as the breeze that rustles through the leaves above. "It certainly is the least of my problems, Your Grace.”

Alicent pauses a moment, taking in Elia's form against the backdrop of the ancient weirwood, its leaves whispering secrets lost to most. “And may I ask what troubles you so deeply then?” Her tone carries a genuine concern, mixed with the regal poise she never quite sheds, even in the most private of conversations. “It is a shame that your grandsire has decided to go against any sensible thought and decided to send you with those… Brutes.”

Elia finally turns, her eyes carrying a hint of offense, almost like having received that insult herself.

“Those brutes are to be my people. I would ask the reason behind that comment but I know it will sour even more the little time I have here before my leaving, yet I clearly know that you always wanted me wrapped around your finger, Your Grace.”

Queen and princess hold gazes, the tension in the air almost tangible. The Queen's expression softens, a mixture of regret and resignation painting her regal features. "Elia, my dear, it is not a matter of wanting to control you. It is the harsh reality that as queen, I have responsibilities that sometimes force my hand to act in ways that seem unfair or even cruel. I was also a young woman, just like you, and I know somebody of your status may find more pleasure in a life around her kin, in a comfortable place.”

“Just say the name, please, so I can reject it.” Elia's tone is tinged with a defiant edge, her posture rigid. She meets the Queen's gaze with a steadfastness that belies her youth. She is the picture of royal defiance, yet there is a vulnerability in her eyes that speaks to the weight of her situation.

“My brother, Gwayne.”

A chuckle escapes the princess’ lips, bold and disrespectful. "Ser Gwayne? You think I would find solace in marrying your brother?" Elia's disbelief is palpable, her voice rising slightly, threading tension through the air of the ornate chamber. "With all due respect, Your Grace, Ser Gwayne is... not what I have in mind for a husband."

Elia feels tempted to say more, to throw the good man’s name over the ground before his sister’s eyes, but she prefers to keep it to herself, her attention returning to the godswood’s heart tree for a moment longer before turning to face the Red Keep.

“Lord Stark is a man of honour. A leader. A loyal man. Something neither you nor your kin can even approach. ‘Tis true His Grace’s decision took me by surprise, but I have gladly accepted my fate and I cannot wait to join my betrothed in the North.”

Alicent’s gaze hardens at Elia's words, a mixture of disbelief and begrudging respect flashing briefly in her eyes. The air between them thickens with unspoken tension, as if the very essence of their conflict could manifest physically, a tangible barrier that neither woman seems willing to break. The grounds of the Red Keep, usually so alive with the hustle and bustle of court life, seem to fall silent around them, as if the very stones and trees are holding their breath, awaiting the outcomes of this momentous confrontation.

Only a man is fool enough to put himself between them.

“Princess” he nods, acknowledging the first with a respectful dip of his head, his eyes then shifting to give the other woman an equal measure of recognition, though he carefully avoids using her title, aware of the delicate balance of power and respect that must be maintained in this charged atmosphere. “His Grace wishes to talk with you in his solar.” Ser Criston’s gaze lingers upon Elia, almost protective.

With a quick glance towards the queen, she nods to the Kingsguard, fighting back a smirk.

“Let’s not make His Grace wait.”

Her voice carries a subtle strength, a reminder of her own status within these walls, even when summoned by someone of higher authority. Ser Criston, recognizing the undercurrent of authority in her tone, bows slightly, an acknowledgment of her position and the respect he holds for her. He gestures for her to follow, leading her through the ornate corridors of the keep. The echoes of their footsteps mingle with the distant sounds of court life: the murmur of conversation, the rustle of silk gowns, and the occasional clatter of armor as guards pass by.

“The queen will be quite crossed with you, ser Criston.”

“The news of your betrothal have disturbed the Red Keep, princess. All in our own way will miss your presence here, but I believe everybody has to assume that things change, even the queen,” Ser Criston replies, his voice laced with a solemn respect.

“Apparently her youngest brother is a better match for a princess than the Warden of the North… I knew Hightowers were greedy, but not that much, I must say.”

Sometimes Elia tends to forget the bond between Criston and Alicent, him having become Lord Commander of the Kingsguard thanks to her influence over the king, and she kind of feels bad when he winces, only his face betraying him for a moment as if the mention of the Hightowers and their ambitions was a jagged shard of ice piercing his loyalty.

“The Reach is the birthplace of chivalry, Princess. Tyrells, Hightowers and Redwynes have mastered it to an art form," Criston replies with a solemn tone, masking his discomfort with the grace of a well-practiced courtier. "The North counts with good warriors, skilled and strong, but it is not the same, and I am sure Her Majesty meant no harm.”

“They are about to be my people. And she called them ‘brutes’.”

Silence lingers in the air like a heavy fog, dense and unyielding. Criston's gaze falls, understanding the weight of his queen's words and the hurt they have inadvertently caused . "I understand," he finally says, his voice low. "It was never her intention to belittle or offend, I am sure of it.”

She wants to retort a snarky comment, but she finally keeps it to herself, realizing that anger won't mend their situation. Instead, she takes a deep breath, letting the cool air fill her lungs, calming the storm that had begun to brew within her.

…

“You look good.”

She smiles at him, softly, her hands clasped at her front as she takes a sit next to him.

“You will make a fine bride, my dear. You will melt the ice in them.”

Her smile slowly fades as she tilts her face to the ground, feigning a modesty she knows she has not, but he thinks she wields it like a warrior does with a shield.

“You are most kind. I must say the idea is not that much disliked as I thought it would be” his violet gaze falls upon her, a hint of curiosity sparkling within it. “I will certainly miss the keep, and everybody, and Jace being close to me, but I can do this. Who knows, maybe I will get to love lord Stark.” She allows herself a small, hopeful smile, thinking about the unknown future that awaits her beyond the familiar walls of the Red Keep.

It had certainly been complicated since the last time he had been with Jace and her alone, when he had made public his change of mind and had decided to bind them into different families, to grow up more like strangers than cousins, but she had decided to adapt herself to the North, and she had reached the point of pestering Grand Maester Mellos, asking for information and any writings about her future lands.

“Those are certainly good words” Viserys seems to be pleased with her reaction, “It will not be easy to adapt to a colder place and a different culture, but your willingness to learn and adapt speaks volumes about your character. The North is a land of old traditions and strong values, where the bonds of family and loyalty are held above all else. The people there are as hardy and steadfast as the land itself; they respect strength and honor, and if you show them that you possess these qualities, they will respect and accept you as one of their own, I am sure of it.”

In a certain way, she can see herself reflected in her grandsire, who passed from being a mere prince of the crown to be the heir, the king to follow Jaehaerys the Conciliator, the one to keep with his legacy. Sometimes, more since the anmouncement of her betrothal to Cregan Stark, she has wondered how did it feel to be new to command a land, to be suddenly thrust into a position of such immense responsibility and power.

“Do you think they will try and compare me to the Good Queen?” the king raises an eyebrow, softly tilting his head as if he is inviting her to keep talking “I read queen Alysanne spent six moons on Winterfell.”

Alysanne Targaryen. The huge shadow looming over the house of dragons. The role model to the following generations.

“They would be fools to not do it” he chuckles, his eyes now upon the sky before them, the stars twinkling like countless eyes watching their exchange. “There were rumours. My own father told me about them, how the Good Queen had made it to put some light upon the lord of Winterfell.”

“And you believe them true?”

Viserys shrugs his shoulders, smiling slightly as if the secrets of the past amused him greatly. “What do you think of it?”

Elia frowns, thoughtful, wondering if he is testing her or just trying to show her some support by comparing her to his grandmother. It is certainly an unusual comparison, but not unwelcomed. The air between them was filled with the softness of an unsaid alliance, a bond formed in the quiet moments of shared history and the unspoken understanding of their positions within the grand tapestry of Westerosi politics.

“I am not really sure what to think about it right now, to be honest.”

Laughter.

She has grown up seeing that man exchanging polite smiles or courteous chuckles, only in just a few ocassions she had witnessed Viserys Targaryen properly laughing, far from the reach of decorum or what the court would say, and it caught her off guard every time, casting him in a light so human it almost seemed out of place, like in this precise moment. She smiles at his reaction, finding warmth in the sound that so rarely graces the halls of the Red Keep.

“Seven Hells, I am going to miss this…” he murmurs with a hint of melancholy in his voice, his gaze momentarily drifting away, lost in thoughts that seem to stretch beyond the confines of the gallery where they are. “The queen came to me before, you know how close are Hightowers to the Faith…”

Since the death of Aemma Arryn and the pushing of the council, led by the cunning Otto Hightower, and his own particular circumstances, Viserys had been pushed to get married again, and since then the constant presence of Alicent fluttering around him had become almost a fixture in his life.

“The North prays to the Old Gods” she says, her eyes roamimg over the garden before them, the great oak tree of the small godswood in a corner of the gardens almost watching over them. “I feel like I should do the same. I will ask lord Stark to teach me about their heart trees and their gods, and it will show him that I am not there to conquer, but to show support and shield him.”

His grandchild’s fascination with the customs and beliefs of the North strucks him as both genuine and politically astute. In the intricate dance of alliances and rivalries that defined the politics of the Seven Kingdoms, understanding and respecting the customs of one's allies was crucial. It was a way to bridge gaps between people from different lands, to weave a tapestry of loyalty and mutual respect that could withstand the tests of time and conflict.

“Wise words, my sweet” he mumbles, his gaze upon the heart tree as well. “She suggested that you could always make a sept be built in Winterfell for you to worship the Seven, with a septa to guide your future children and a septon to try and lure any Northerner to worship the gods with you…”

“And what did you tell her?”

His hand, slightly trembling, cups hers, and his thumb brushes her knuckles with tender.

“That if Aegon the Conqueror did not find it necessary to try and make the North turn to the Seven, then neither would any of us. The gods of the North have been worshipped there for thousands of years. They are rooted deep in the land, in the very heart of the people,” he sighs, clearly tired. “A marriage is a pact. Each one has to respect and tolerate things from the other, even if they don't fully understand or believe in them. I was happy by your grandmother’s side because each of us gave a part of our hearts to the other, and I truly hope you can live happy by your husband’s side, Elia.” she looks at him sideways as soon as he mentions his dead wife, the true love of his life, the shadow looming over him, and the soft smile on his face and the tender glint in his eyes break a little part of her heart. “We all deserve our little bliss, Elia.”

#twiw2 #a song of ice and fire fanfic #a song of ice and fire fic #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf fic #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon fic #cregan stark fic #cregan stark x oc

25 notes · View notes