#can’t wait for him to feel at peace as he looks in the left drawing hehe

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Falling in love all by yourself, handsome? | Lonan <3

As Lonan nurses the fire, Harrison traces his face, the violet impasto around his eye. Lonan has always looked like a masterpiece to him, damp black hair that almost looks navy blue, a smile so subtle, it’s almost acquired.

What do we think—does he look like fine art???

Lonan portrait is DONE!! I can’t look at this too hard because this is exactly what he looks like and it’s freaking me out. :)

Digital portrait in Procreate. B&W to colour. 10 hours.

[11keu]

NEEDY | S.JY

SYNOPSIS. Waking up in the middle of night at the height of your fertility cycle leaves in you desperate need of some relief only your boyfriend can provide.

PAIRING. Sim Jaeyun x Fem! Reader

GENRE. Smut, fluff. Established relationship. Short, self-indulgent drabble. Soft and sleepy. Reader calls him ‘Jae’.

WORD COUNT. 1.3K

WARNING. Smut under cut, minors do not interact.

CONTENT. Profanity, almost no foreplay, unprotected sex (wrap it up), very lazy sex, the opposite of dialogue-heavy, nipple play, fingering, spitting / saliva, mutual masturbation.

How perfect he looked, knocked out and completely unaware of the animal in heat possessing you right now.

Your eyes raked over Jake’s peaceful features, taking in his messy hair and the way he would swallow, slightly lift his head and then drop it back down onto his pillow, before nuzzling the side of his face against it to get comfortable again. Not to mention, his bare torso and arms. You were practically drooling at the sight of his muscles tensing with every movement. He was so unbelievably sexy to you right now. It pissed you off that he could be sleeping right through your aching need, as clueless as could be.

You tossed and turned, trying to cool off both physically and emotionally. With your face buried in the pillow, you groaned softly in defeat.

Your eyes flickered back over Jake’s features, silently willing him to wake up. But you didn’t have time to wait on wishes to come true, so you shifted closer. His arm reached out for you, a foolproof tactic of yours. The hold he had on you was heavy, strong, as he pulled you flush against his chest — your head tucked under his chin, his fingers trailing half-assed lines up and down your back beneath your t-shirt.

A soft hum left your lips, and you hoped it was loud enough to at least stir him a little bit. His heavy eyelids lifted slightly, one eye squinted as he looked at the time on the digital clock across from him. It wasn’t even five in the morning.

‘What’s up?’ He sleepily mumbled, yawning before he could even finish the two-word sentence.

You frowned at the feel of him yawning above you, feeling slightly guilty for waking him. You created some space between the two of you, his hand sliding from your back to your thigh, gripping the flesh to keep you there. As you locked eyes with him, you took in his offended expression.

‘Go back to sleep, Jae,’ you murmured.

‘You’re up, I’m up,’ he protested, eyes falling closed again. ‘C’mere.’

He tugged fruitlessly at your thigh, pouting as you didn’t shift. With every ounce of strength he had in his sleepy state, he pulled you flush against him and hooked your leg over his hip. The soft gasp that left your lips was all the proof he needed. He smiled against your neck, pressing one soft kiss to the skin.

‘Just can’t get enough of me, can you?’ He teased, drawing his head back.

‘You’re such a dick,’ you retorted.

His hand slid up your thigh and over your ass, fingers pressing against your dampened panties. He groaned, eyes closing once more as he applied pressure to your clothed clit. You sighed, content to just let him rub you to an orgasm, and then pass out and get a good night of sleep for once.

But no. You knew Jake got hard at just the thought of you being wet, so it was no surprise when you felt his growing bulge press firmly against your front.

You slid up on top of him, finding his lips in a kiss. His hands were under your t-shirt, rubbing softly at your waist. Your hands cupped his face, holding him to you as you kissed. Kisses that were half soft and sleepy, half firm and needy. The kind of kiss that made you think; god, this it. I could die right here, right now. You hummed and sighed against his lips, one hand moving to gently rub at his scalp.

Jake’s hand slid between your thighs, pulling your soaked panties aside to slide two fingers between your folds. Warm and slick, as always. He hummed in approval, lifting you slightly to pull down his pyjama pants. The stereotypical ‘dad style’ pants you begged on your knees for him to start wearing.

How you even kept your hands to yourself at all after he agreed was an achievement in itself.

He jerked his cock for a second, getting fully hard before he tapped it against your entrance. You sat on it, rubbing your slick folds from the base to the tip a couple of times. He groaned into your mouth, hips just barely jerking up into the feeling.

You lifted your hips, giving him the space to press his tip to your entrance. He gently pushed into you, letting you slide the rest of the way. The kiss broke with the sated sighs that left each of your lips.

Falling flush against his bare chest, you considered just sitting there. But your boyfriend wasn’t a fan of cock-warming, and neither were you when sex with him felt that good. After a moment, you began to gently roll your hips. Struggling with the angle, you sat back. Jake watched you with hungry eyes, bottom lip pulled in between his teeth as you rocked against him. His hands moving to your hips helped you bounce slightly.

Knowing you’d get nowhere with the lazy pace you’d set, he began to fuck up into you. The bed rocked, soft sighs and moans falling from your lips that dissipated into the surrounding darkness.

A soft yelp fell from your lips as he hit your cervix, his apology almost as soft as your sound. But the way it made you clench around him, sucking him in, made him want to do it again. He tightly gripped your hips, holding you still as he continued to piston in and out of you. He was moaning breathlessly beneath you, a sinful image you were going to take back to sleep with you. Your moans turned into little whimpers as he fucked up into you hard and fast.

When he grew tired, he slumped back against the bed. You went back to rolling your hips and bouncing slightly, his hands roaming your body making your skin feel even hotter. He cupped your tits, massaging and groping. His thumbs flicked over your nipples, making you gasp and your movements jerk. You tightened around him, knees digging into his sides as you struggled to keep moving.

‘Fuck,’ he groaned, lifting you off him.

He replaced his cock with two of his fingers as you sat back on his thighs, letting you fuck yourself on them as he thrusted them in and out of you. After you spat on your own fingers, you rubbed at your clit with desperation. Jake began to jerk himself off messily, using his non-dominant hand for the sake of fingering you properly. Your eyes were fixed on his fist, the way he gripped himself tightly and twisted his wrist with every drag of his hand.

With the way you were clamping down on his fingers, Jake knew you were close. He picked up the pace of both his fingers and his hand, struggling to get you both off at the same time. You came with a gasp, dropping your head back in ecstasy.

Jake let out a whiny moan, cumming all over his fingers and his stomach. His fingers were stilled inside of you, but you were still rocking softly against them, riding out your orgasm. Your head dropped forward to see the end of his orgasm, watching the last few spurts of cum coat his fingers. Your twisted mind wanted to lick them clean, but you decided against it as you pulled out a few tissues from the box atop his bedside table.

You helped him clean up, the soiled tissues being tossed across the bedroom floor. You slid off of him and immediately knocked out, mumbling a half-assed confession of love.

Published by 11keu on Tumblr, 28th January 2025.

NOTE. i wrote this in an hour.. i’m down bad it’s 2 am

[mellowswriting]

the sweetest dream

pairing || Miguel O’Hara x f!Reader

word count || 1.5k

summary || Miguel comes home to find you sleeping peacefully on the couch. He can’t help himself. 

content || SMUT, somnophilia, oral (miguel eats that 🐱 while ur sleeping), rough needy sex, creampie, Miguel is pussy whipped!!!

a/n || saw ATSV twice just for this man

Miguel Masterlist  |  Masterlist 

It’s late when Miguel finally walks through the front door - later than usual. Nothing quite went to plan today. A series of fuck ups left him scouring an alien world for an anomaly that should have been a quick and easy grab. Hours later, he stalks into his apartment with leftover adrenaline still boiling just beneath the surface. The sight of you sprawled out on the couch is the only thing that keeps him from slamming the door behind him.

You must have fallen asleep trying to wait up for him. It eases some of that tension that still plagues him. A sigh heaves through him as he drinks in the image you make. It would make him smile if he wasn’t still so tense. You look so peaceful and soft, only wearing a tank top and panties that leave so much bare skin exposed to his hungry gaze. He missed you. All day, throughout all of the bullshit, all he could do was think about how much easier it would be if you were by his side. His partner in all things.

Miguel’s fingers trail over the curve of your hip contemplatively. He knows he should just carry you to bed, wrap himself around you, and let you both get some rest. He knows that. But the temptation of your body, so soft and sleepy and pliable… he doesn’t know how to resist. His fingertips glide up your inner thigh and you sigh softly, your legs spreading for him almost on instinct.

“Fuck, baby…” Miguel murmurs in a low, aching tone. He braces one knee on the cushion and flattens his hands on each of your thighs, eagerly spreading you further to satiate his growing greed. A broken sound leaves him at the darkened spot on your underwear. He can’t stop himself from rubbing you through the soft cotton and watching that wet spot grow. “Dreamin’ about me, aren’t you?”

You make another soft, sleepy sound that sends arousal pulsing through him. He’s careful as he tugs your underwear down and discards them on the floor. He doesn’t want you waking until you’re desperate enough to whine and tremble for him just how he likes. His fingers stroke your clit in slow circles, marveling at how wet you get from the simplest of his touches. Every little sound and shudder he draws from you melts that tension in his muscles a little more.

Miguel hovers over your prone body with a possessive, aching need to take, take, take. The tank top shreds with a simple swipe of his claw and he can’t help the shiver that rocks through him as he watches the cool air flush across your bare skin. He leans into the impulse and lets his suit disappear, his hand automatically wrapping around his leaking cock. He strokes himself in a loose fist - any more would be too much. He’s already on edge just from the sight of you. He trails sloppy kisses between your breasts, licking and sucking the familiar taste of your skin. Feeling you, tasting you - it calms the crazed beast that has been pacing like a caged animal in his mind all day. His fingers tweak your nipple and you shift, subtly pushing your chest into his touch before settling back down. So needy for him, even in sleep.

It drives him fucking crazy. Miguel shoves himself down the couch with little finesse, too desperate to bury his face between your thighs. A low growl emanates from his chest as he finally gets a taste of you - that addictive taste of sweat and woman that makes him insatiable. His tongue finds your clit with practiced ease, his eyes falling closed as he sucks that sensitive nub.

The sound of you gasping out his name in a sleep-roughened voice is the sweetest sound to ever grace his ears. His hands wrap around your thighs in a possessively tight grip as they begin to quiver. He watches through half-lidded eyes as you emerge from the last dregs of sleep and bloom with pleasure. Pride and love unfurl in his chest, a warm flush of affection that he can never seem to get enough from.

All that exists in this moment is you: your fingers tangled in his hair, your hips rolling into his face, your choked moan as he slips two thick fingers into you without warning. Every other universe, every threat to the canon - none of it fucking matters. Not when he’s got your perfect cunt soaking his face and fluttering around his fingers. This is when he would work you up nice and slow, drawing you so dangerously close to that edge before pulling you back from the precipice just to hear you beg. He would rest his chin on your belly and watch you beg for it with that cocky smirk on his face. But not tonight.

Miguel curls his fingers in time with the messy licking and sucking of his mouth. His free hand massages your thigh as you tremble beneath him. Just when you would expect him to slow down and ease up on you, his pace doubles. You inhale sharply and tighten your grip in his hair. Your sweet little murmurs of fuck, fuck, fuck, only encourage him. Slick clings to his face and runs down to his wrist in wet trails, and Miguel can’t stop himself from grinding his hips into the couch. Just seeing you like this, so close to falling apart for him, is enough to make him damn near come untouched.

You don’t need to say anything for him to know you’re close. Miguel has spent so much time with his hands on your body that he knows every inch by heart. Every swirl of his tongue and stroke of his fingers is perfectly designed to make you fall apart for him. He drags you over the edge with deliberate strokes of his tongue and fingers, and he revels in the moment that you finally break. He can’t imagine a better way to go than being suffocated by your thighs or drowned in your slick.

It isn’t until you push him away, shivering and a little overstimulated, that Miguel actually relents. He eases his fingers out of you and kisses his way up your body, paying special attention to all those little spots that make you yelp so adorably.

“Welcome home, I guess.” You tease in a sleep rough voice.

“Missed you.” He murmurs against your neck where he trails desperate, sloppy kisses. His hips rock into you, his cock rutting hard against your thigh. “Can I? Please, I just - fuck, I need you so bad, baby. Been thinkin’ about this pretty pussy all fuckin’ day…”

“Come on, pretty boy.” You nuzzle your face into his jaw. Finish what you started.”

Miguel takes the allowance and runs with it.

He threads his fingers through yours and pins your hand to the couch as he sinks into your soft, wet cunt. The last thread of his reason fractures at the feeling and his hips snap forward so hard you lurch up the couch.  Before he can try to rein himself in, you level him with a look that ignites his very soul. Fire burns in your eyes, pure lust and desire that has your teeth gritting and your hips rolling to meet his. A look that dares him to take, to fuck you like he needs to. He’s never been one to step down from a challenge.

The pace he sets is devastating. Sweat slicks every inch where your bodies meet. His body is pressed so close to yours that he grinds against your clit with every thrust and he can tell how close you are to coming again. You curse him as his cock shoves against something deep and so impossibly good that it hurts. Miguel doesn’t relent. He isn’t much further behind and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t work another orgasm out of his girl before this is over. He shifts the angle of his hips just so and you convulse around the thick of his cock. Your nails dig into the thick muscle of his shoulder and you throw your head back with a broken cry.

His hips slam into you with every growled word: Good. Fucking. Girl. He buries almost painfully deep as pleasure snaps in his belly, molten and all-consuming in the heat of your cunt. Every pulse of his cock sees him melting a little bit more into you, his weight only supported by one teetering elbow braced in the cushion. His hips still jerk, forcing the cutest whimpers out of you. He chases after your sweet little sounds, tongue dipping into your mouth for the slightest taste of that honeyed pleasure. Your fingers thread in his soft curls The kiss is almost… tender. As if he didn’t just fuck the absolute shit out of you.

You hum, a happy little rumble that almost sounds like purring. “Missed you too, Miggy.”

[sweethyunsu]

Two in One - Cha Hyunsu

“Stay here.”

It wasn’t a statement; it was a demand. One that you didn’t want to obey.

It was also the last thing you remember before waking up. You were resting against your shared bed while Hyunsu dabbed a cloth into a bowl of water, wringing out the excess so it wouldn't make a mess.

As the grogginess faded, your eyes looked him over. He was completely covered in scrapes, gashes, and even as his arm dabbed the cloth onto your head, it was shaking.

“I-“ You paused, tears welling in your eyes as you looked him over. You knew he’d be fine in a few hours, but he would’ve been fine already if you just listened. “I’m sorry-” You sniffed.

“None of that matters.” He cut you off with a weak smile, his hand moving to gently lay on your shoulder. “You’re safe. I’m safe.” He paused to take a breath, his arm moving from your shoulder to cup the side of your face. “We’re okay.” He finished. The look in his eyes softened as he looked at you. Partially relieved, partially lost in the way yours still held onto the worry from before.

You don’t know when the gap between the two of you closed or when your shirt was pulled off, but as you started slipping down the headboard, your hands came up to wrap around him, trying to pull him closer. A small hiss came out of him and you realized you must have held a little too tight.

“Sorry,” You whispered with a small smile, one that he returned.

“It’s okay.” He chuckled, grabbing your hand and placing it on the top of his arm instead. You moved your other hand to match on the opposite side. “Just don’t squeeze too hard.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me on top?” You gave him a weak smile.

“That might be worse, actually.” He laughed before his lips were back on you. The hand that wasn’t supporting him above you trailed down to the waistband of your shorts, easily sliding under them.

He was always soft with you, but you learned to love it. With how hectic your everyday lives were, being able to enjoy some peace with him was more than welcomed.

“Hyunsu,” You whispered as his finger reached your clit, drawing slow circles while he leaned down to press kisses along your neck.

“Shh,” He smirked against you. “I know.” He slowly slid two fingers inside you, the kiss deepening as your hips worked to try and give him a better angle.

“I don’t want to wait.” You whispered. “I want more. I can take it.” You looked up at him pleadingly. He gave you a look that told you he didn’t trust you.

“So impatient.” He gave you a soft smile as he pulled his hand away. You almost spoke up but watched eagerly as slid to the end of the bed before getting up, taking your shorts and underwear with him.

He wasted no time spreading your legs. His fingers spread you open, and his tongue gave you a few kitten licks before flattening against you. His eyes flicked up to watch you, a small smile on his face when he saw your hand reaching for his hair.

You let your eyes fall closed as you tried to relax, but you couldn’t help the guilt that tugged at you. You should be taking care of him, but he was always so giving.

You could, however, feel yourself grinding against his face as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking mercilessly. He brought his fingers back up to start where he left off and he couldn’t help but look up to watch you, his eyes staying on you this time.

He watched as your mouth parted in a silent moan as your eyes screwed shut. It was new to you for him to be fast paced and it was embarrassing how the change affected you. You couldn’t keep still and his free arm came around to grip on your thigh. Holding it down and open.

“Hy-Hyun-“ You felt yourself getting close, small whimpers of his name fell from your lips as your grip on his hair got tighter.

Until he pulled away.

“Don’t tell me he lets you cum that easily when you can’t even follow simple directions.” His tone was different and when you looked up, his eyes had blacked out. He scoffed as you tried catching your breath, his eyes turning blue. “Don’t be so surprised.” He smiled. “You should be glad I took over. He’s in no shape to be doing any of this.”

“How long have you been here?” You swallowed hard, your breath steadying some.

“Sweetie,” He tsked. “Don’t you remember his arm was hurt? How could he have possibly held you down like that?”

Your eyes widened in horror before you tried to pull your legs away from him. He was quick to stop you, pulling you back towards him.

“Maybe if you had listened to him better, I’d let you.” He tsked. “But with how much energy he used to save you, he’s not strong enough to come back right now.” He smiled down at you, and you hated that you felt yourself clench at the situation you were in. “So, I guess you’re stuck with me.”

You watched helplessly as he spread your legs again, pinning them down.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He smiled as he watched your reaction. “We both know you’re dying to have him be rougher with you.” His smile grew. “I could see it, y’know.” He narrowed his eyes at you as his finger trailed up your leg.

“When he’s on top of you, you never seem to be enjoying yourself.” His finger ran along your leg. “When he’s eating you out, you wish he wouldn’t pull away as soon as you cum.” He smirked, his other hand running up your opposite leg.

“You want to be used.” He emphasized the word by cupping his hand around you, his palm pressing deliciously against your clit. You couldn’t help but roll your hips into it.

“Even know.” He scoffed. “You know I’m not him, but you’re still turned on.” He tilted his head. “Is it him you really want?” He started, pressing against you harder, reveling in the whine you let out. “Or is it that you don’t have anyone else?”

“Shut up.” Your words were contradicting your actions. “If you were wearing anyone else’s face, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“He’s upset, you know.” He faked a sad tone, ignoring your statement. “He’s yelling at me, threatening me even, to take my hands off of you.” He watched you buck into his hand. “How about you tell him that you’re the one touching me?”

The thought of Hyunsu watching this pinged at your heart but it also turned you on. He didn’t want anyone else touching you. He didn’t want anyone else on you. But at the same time, it was him.

“It should be you watching.” You spat, trying your best to control your hips.

“I don’t think you’ve grasped the situation.” He let out an amused chuckle as he pulled his hand away. “I could have-“ He paused to correct himself as he crawled over you. “We could have died.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “And as much as he’s just glad you’re alright, I’m a bit pissed.” His face was right in front of yours. “Sure, it would take us a while to heal, but you could have died.”

“And I’d have to hear him mope about it for god knows how long.” He sighed. “So, you can deal with me,” He cocked his head to the side. “Or you can deal with an unconscious Hyunsu.” He cocked his head to the other side. “Your call.” He smirked. “But with how tight you’re gripping onto me I don’t think you want me to stop.”

You hadn’t noticed, but your hand had gripped onto his forearm at some point. The one that previously on you.

“Like I said.” You quickly snatched you hand back. “It’s because you look like him.” You spat. “I would never touch you.”

He laughed as he backed off, pushing himself off the bed in the process.

“You can act all you want.” He walked to the side of the bed. “But we both know you’re not as against me as you’re trying to be.” As he was talking, he let Hyunsu’s normal eyes come back. You could see a gash on his head disappearing. “Not when this pretty face is the one talking.”

You almost felt like you were cheating the way you felt yourself clench at nothing. You did wish Hyunsu was rougher. You did want him to stop treating you like you would break if he put any pressure on you. As you were lost in thought, he was on your side, his hands grabbing your face to make you look at him.

“I can hear your heartbeat speeding up, y’know.” His tone was cocky, and you almost forgot it wasn’t really Hyunsu. “I don’t know why he treats you like you’re so fragile.” He scoffed, squishing your cheeks so your lips were pursed, letting out a small laugh when your hands came up to slap his away. “It looks like you can handle yourself.”

“Besides,” He smiled, his eyes blue again. “Even if he comes back, you’ll still have to put up with me until he’s strong enough to hide me away completely.” He paused, his smile growing sinisterly wide. “You don’t want me to hurt him now, do you?”

“You wouldn’t.” Your eyes locked on his and he only chuckled.

“I could lock him up in here for as long as I like.” He pointed to his head, letting out a laugh. “Especially when you like being reckless enough to put him in that state.”

“Either way, you got what you want, now bring him back.” You ignored his comment, putting all your effort into trying your best to sound like you meant what you were saying.

“You think I’ve sat idly all this time that I’m going to settle for finishing something I didn’t start?” He chuckled as he undid the belt he was wearing.

“You want him back?” He scoffed again, pulling the belt free. “If you wanted him so bad you wouldn’t put his life at risk like that, now would you?” He said as he walked back towards you, motioning to your hands.

The threat against Hyunsu had you complying.

“If it wasn’t for me taking over, do you really think he’d be fine?” He faked a pout as he stretched the belt out and easily tied your wrists. He knew you knew the answer, but he still felt the need to continue. “There’s no him without me.”

He pinned your wrists above your head, smirking down at you as your breath hitched.

“You should hear him.” He whispered, his face right in front of yours. “Looks like you might get what you want from him when does get back.” He pulled away, making his way back to the end of the bed, his arms running along your legs before stopping at your thighs. His firm hold had your head spinning.

“But for now, we’re going to go over some rules, yeah?” He smiled, pressing kisses along the insides of your thighs. “If you can prove you learned how to listen, I’ll fuck you like you want.” He smirked as you struggled, letting Hyunsu’s normal eyes come back.

“And you can pretend it’s your pretty little boyfriend doing it.”

[midnightdahlias]

Lone Wolf

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

summery - Bobby calls you when two hunters seem to need a rescue word count - 2.8k cws - gn!reader, kinda fluff (ig), typical supernatural hunt violence, mentions of weapons, mild language, mentions of injury, lmk if i missed anything a/n - the amount of times i've rewritten this fic-, i do hope you like it though, and as always rebloggs and comments are appreciated. happy reading !

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

Driving was the calm between the chaos.

For hunters like you, it was the only time life didn’t feel like one giant nightmare. No claws, no teeth, no windows to get thrown through. Just the hum of the engine, the occasional song on the radio, and miles of open road.

Being a solo hunter? Even better. No one to babysit, no one to lose. It was just you and your thoughts. Peaceful.

...Well. Mostly.

Because, let’s face it, solitude had its downsides. You weren’t a robot. Sometimes, you wanted someone to talk to who wasn’t a bartender or Bobby Singer on the other end of the line. But people were a luxury you couldn’t afford—not when you knew what this life would do to them. You’d already learned that lesson the hard way, thank you very much.

But somedays you’d find yourself working with others, and today was one of those days.

“Hey, Bobby, got a case for me?” you asked, cradling the phone against your shoulder while you tightened the strap on your duffel bag.

“Not a case so much as a rescue mission,” Bobby said, and you could practically hear the grimace in his voice.

“Rescue?”

“Couple of knuckleheads went dark in Chicago. I sent ’em a case, and now I can’t get ahold of ’em. Might be nothin’, but…”

“Better safe than sorry,” you finished for him.

“Exactly.” He sighed, and you could hear the faint clink of a whiskey glass on his end.

“Why me? Don’t tell me I’m your only option.”

“You’re the best shot I’ve got, and you know it,” Bobby said gruffly. “Now, are you gonna help or stand there flappin’ your gums?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, I’m on it. Send me the details.”

The drive to Chicago was quiet, a welcome break from the chaos that usually followed you around. It gave you time to think: about Bobby’s call, about the hunters who’d gone dark, and about how you were the one he trusted to find them. You didn’t mind the weight of that responsibility. If they were still alive, you’d get them out. If not… you’d make sure the job was done. Either way, it was your mess to clean up.

Your first stop was the police station, where the missing hunters were last seen.

Flashing your fake FBI badge, you approached the front desk. “Couple of angets were here investigating some strange deaths. I’m their superior. Mind telling me what they found?”

The officer barely looked up. “You’ll want Detective Hayes. Down the hall.”

Hayes didn’t waste time. “They were looking into some deaths. Real messy ones. Claw marks, missing hearts, looks like a wild animal got to them. Weirdest damn thing.”

Missing hearts. Yep. Definitely your kinda thing.

He handed you the case file. You didn’t miss the way he watched you, like he was waiting for you to explain it all away. Instead, you nodded, thanked him, and left. The morgue confirmed what you already knew—this wasn’t some rogue animal. This was werewolves.

The victims were last seen at a seedy little bar on the edge of town. Sounded like your next stop.

The bar smelled like beer and poor life choices. You grabbed a seat at the far end, where you could see the whole room without sticking out too much. Years of hunting had taught you to trust your instincts, and right now, they were screaming something’s off.

Hours passed without incident. You were just about to call it a night when a hooded figure walked in, immediately drawing your attention. He moved with purpose, scanning the crowd before slipping a small envelope to a woman sitting alone, and walked out without a word.

Because that’s definitely not suspicious at all.

The woman opened the envelope, scanned its contents, then locked eyes with you.

You froze and your pulse quickening. Was it obvious you were watching her? Maybe. Did she seem like the type to care? Also maybe.

Just when you thought she might try and approach you or something, she stood and left without a word.

Again definitely not suspicious…

You waited a beat, and against every bit of common sense you had, you followed her out into the night.

You knew fully well that this could be a trap, but you also knew that this might be the only chance you’d get. You tailed her car at a cautious distance until she turned into an alleyway. Parking just past it, you got out and crept closer on foot.

The alley was dark and silent, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp. You kept your distance as she climbed out of her car, a sleek white sedan.

That’s when you saw it. A black ‘67 Chevrolet Impala parked behind her car.

Your heart stopped. No. Fucking. Way.

Everyone in the hunting community knew that car. It belonged to the Winchester brothers and if it was here, so were they.

Heart pounding, you crept closer to what looked to be an old theater near the alley. The door was left slightly ajar. Definitely a trap, but again what choices did you have other than to follow.

Knife in hand, you slipped inside.

The old theater was in disrepair. Dust covered the seats, and the air smelled of mildew. Yet the stage area seemed oddly intact, as though it were still in use. Before you could explore further, a low growl stopped you in your tracks.

Out of the shadows stepped a werewolf, its eyes glowing an unnatural yellow. You barely had time to react as it lunged at you.

“Of course,” you muttered, diving to the side. Your silver knife caught its flank, but the thing was fast. Claws swiped, catching your arm, but you kept moving, twisting the blade into its chest until it dropped.

Before you could catch your breath, a second growl echoed through the room.

“Oh, come on,” you groaned.

The woman from the bar stepped into the dim light, her face twisted, fangs bared.

“I knew you’d be trouble. You just had to poke your nose where it didn’t belong” she snarled, lunging at you.

You fought with everything you had. Her speed and strength outmatched the first werewolf by a mile. Claw marks tore through your jacket, and pain flared in your ribs, but you pressed on, besides you’d been through worse. Finally, a lucky strike drove your blade into her heart with every ounce of frustration you’d built up in the last 24 hours.. She crumpled to the floor, lifeless.

Panting, you staggered to your feet, surveying the room as you did so and spotted a faint light coming from backstage. You followed it and found the Winchesters tied up and unconscious but thankfully alive. Working quickly, you untied Sam, and began your attempts at waking the younger of the two brothers up.

“Come on Sam, wake up!” you whispered-yelled, shaking him furiously. His eyes fluttered open, and he blinked at you in confusion.

“Who—”

“Hunter. Bobby sent me. We can swap stories later.”

Before you could untie Dean, another werewolf burst through the door.

“Son of a—” you curesed under your breath, turning back to Sam “You handle your brother. I’ll handle him.”

The fight was grueling. This werewolf was stronger and faster than the others. It pressed you relentlessly, forcing you to dodge and counter with every ounce of skill you had. At one point, it pinned you, its jaws snapping inches from your face. Desperately, you reached for your knife, plunging it into its side. The creature howled in pain but didn’t relent.

You tried to reach for your blade again, but the creature had beat you to it and thrown it far out of your reach.

Just when you thought you were screwed, a gunshot rang out. The werewolf collapsed right on top of you.

‘’Ugh, seriously’’ you muttered, annoyed, even though someone had just saved your life.

You pushed away the werewolf, revealing Dean Winchester, awake and armed, smirking like he’d just saved the day.

“I had him,” you panted, brushing dust from your jacket.

Dean grinned, holstering his gun. “I think you mean, thank you.”

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t suppress a smile. “I didn’t need saving, but appreciate it anyway.”

You sat up, your body aching more now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Your hands were shaking, but you steadied them, trying not to show how badly you hurt.

You glanced over at Sam, who had just come into the room, taking in the full scene in front of him, his gaze flicking from you to the wolves you had ganked before even getting to the boys. "Did you—?"

You nodded, your muscles protesting as you stood. The reality of your injuries hit you all at once—scrapes, bruises, and a deep ache in your ribs. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, but the exhaustion was creeping in. You’d deal with it later, when you had the space to breathe.

"Yeah, well, Bobby sent me to save your asses," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Would’ve been pretty embarrassing if I’d gotten myself ganked in the process.”

Sam didn’t laugh. His gaze was fixed on you, scanning your face, the bloodied scratches on your arm. He was looking at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"You’re hurt," Sam murmured, his voice softer than you expected.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, brushing him off with a wave. “Just a few scratches. Nothing I can’t handle.”

But Sam didn’t look convinced. His jaw clenched, and he took a step toward you. “You sure about that?”

You laughed, a little too sharply. "Mhm. Besides, you should be worried about yourself. Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

You were used to being the tough one, the one who didn’t show weakness. But there was something about the way Sam was looking at you, his eyes filled with concern, that made it harder to pretend you were unaffected. It was sweet, but you weren't ready to let him in on just how much it affected you.

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

He didn’t answer, just kept looking at you like he was seeing you for the first time. Your heart fluttered, but you shook it off. “Seriously. I’m fine,” you said gently. “We should get out of here. Let Bobby know you two are alright.”

“Wait! I didn’t get your name,” he called out.

You smirked, turning to face him. “That’s because I didn’t give it.”

Sam frowned, but there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Guess I’ll just have to track you down next time.”

“Good luck with that,” you teased, climbing into your car.

As you drove away, the open road stretched ahead of you, peaceful as ever. But this time, you couldn’t shake the thought of a certain tall, hazel-eyed hunter. Maybe working alone wasn’t as perfect as you’d always believed. And as much as you hated to admit it, the idea of a little chaos... didn’t seem so bad.

The hum of the engine mixed with the music on the radio filled the car as you drove into the night, your mind still running a few steps behind, tangled in thoughts of Sam, of Dean, and what came next.

You couldn't help but wonder—was this the last time you'd cross paths with the Winchesters? Somehow, you doubted it.

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

masterlist

[0x-cinder]

Fem! Reader (gendered language)has been flirting with Luffy for months, and she's starting to lose hope. Will Luffy prove her wrong?

Content Warnings: none?

Lovesickness

It was a bright, peaceful afternoon for the Strawhats. Each member enjoyed their usual activities while the captain looked out to sea atop the ship's figurehead.

You watched him from where you sat with Nico Robin as she read, holding Chopper in your lap.

Even from this angle, the captain was beautiful. His dark hair blew in the breeze as he sat, rocking side to side in contentment. You didn’t have to see it to know that he had his signature joyful smile painted all over his face.

Just imagining it made your heart flutter.

“Ugh, this is so frustrating.” You sighed, running your hands through your hair.

Nico Robin looked up from the book she was reading.”What is?”

“Luffy.” You replied.

“What about him?”

“I’ve been flirting with him for months, and he still doesn’t get it!” You exclaimed, “Not even Nami’s tips are working.”

“Luffy’s an idiot.” Chopper chimed in, still focused on the chocolate bar he was snacking on, “He’ll notice eventually.”

“Maybe it’s already working.” Robin offered, “He’s been quite touchy with you recently.”

“He’s touchy with everyone.” You deadpanned, “It’s Luffy.”

“I think that’s just your self-doubt talking.” She said, closing her book in her lap. “You don’t see what we do.”

Chopper nodded in agreement. “Robin’s right! Remember yesterday when I showed you my medical drawing, and he appeared out of nowhere just to hug you?”

You felt your cheeks begin to burn at the memory. Luffy had done similar things in the past, from randomly bringing you snacks to share to casually swinging his arm around your shoulder or linking your arm with his while walking.

“And,” Chopper continued, taking another bite of his chocolate bar, “When you asked him why, he said he ‘just felt like it’ and left?”

You cast a doubtful look at Robin, “He doesn’t do that to either of you?”

They both shook their heads.

“You know there’s only one way to find out…” Robin said with a smile, “Just tell him how you feel.”

Your eyes widened, “No! I can’t do that! What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he doesn’t want me on the ship anymore?”

Robin chuckled. “Luffy wouldn’t kick you out. If he doesn’t feel the same, he’ll probably assume you’re confessing platonic love.”

You buried your face in your hands, “That’s even worse.”

“Well, you won’t know until you try.” Robin shrugged, opening her book and leaning back in her chair to continue reading.

You considered her words for a moment. She was right. You wouldn’t truly know how Luffy felt unless you said something to him.

“I’ll think about it.” You sighed.

Chopper shifted from your lap onto Robin’s as you stood, “I’m gonna ask Sanji for a snack.” You said before dismissing yourself.

You didn’t really need a snack, just a moment to yourself.

Robin’s words echoed through your mind as you made your way to your room.

How on earth am I supposed to tell him? You thought anxiously.

How would he react?

Would things change between us if my feelings aren't reciprocated?

Suddenly, a solid object in your path knocked you out of your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see the beaming eyes of your captain looking back at you.

“Woah, watch where you’re going.” Luffy laughed, “What’re you thinking so hard about?”

Your heart rate picked up, “Uhm- nothing important.” You stammered.

Tell him now. Your mind screamed. Just get it over with.

“Are you okay? You look…Upset.” He asked with a concerned look, reaching out to take your arm.

You froze. The words were on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t speak.

Luffy waited for a response, his worried eyes focused on you.

You looked away and stepped around him. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.” You said quietly, walking away before he could interrogate you further.

Luffy’s eyes remained on your back as you departed. He’d been happy to see you; he hadn’t spoken to you all day, and it was killing him.

Is she mad at me or something? His heart grew heavy at the thought.

Once you were out of sight, Luffy placed his hand over his chest, reacting to the unfamiliar feeling. Usually, his heart felt lighter when you were around.

“What is going on with me? Am I sick or something?” He said quietly to himself.

The captain decided he’d talk to Chopper, just to be safe, and continued in the direction you’d come from to find Chopper and Robin in the same place you’d just left them.

Chopper waved as Luffy approached and opened his mouth to greet him.

“Chopper, I think I’m sick or something.” Luffy explained before the doctor could speak, “Is there a sickness that only affects you when you’re around a certain person?”

“You mean…You think someone got you sick?” Chopper asked, confused, “What are your symptoms?”

Luffy thought for a moment before responding, “No. It’s more like…When she smiles at me, my heart starts beating weird.” He started, his ears turning a light shade of pink. “When I touch her, warmth spreads around my body like I have a fever.” He clutched his chest, still aching from seeing the conflicted look in your eyes when he'd run into you moments ago. “When she’s hurt or upset, my chest starts feeling heavy.”

“She?” Robin asked, putting her book down with a smile and shooting a knowing look at Chopper.

“Y-yeah?” Luffy replied, a blush spreading across his cheeks, “See? Just thinking about her makes me feel fuzzy.”

Robin laughed. “That’s what we call lovesickness.”

“Lovesickness…” Luffy repeated, tilting his head in confusion. His eyes darted to Chopper, “Is there a cure?”

“It’s not a real sickness that has a cure, Luffy,” Chopper grinned, “All the symptoms you’ve described tell me that you’re in love.”

Luffy’s eyes widened as it clicked in his mind. For the past month and a half, he’d spent countless hours trying to rationalize the way you made him feel but he'd just been harboring feelings for you the whole time. He felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

“So this is what a crush feels like?” Luffy asked, more as a note to himself rather than a question he needed an answer to.

A wave of determination washed over him. He had to share this with you. Now that he knew what the feeling was, what it meant, he couldn’t keep it from you.

“How do I tell her? Do you think she feels the same about me?” He asked his two crewmates.

“Pick a time and a place, then tell her you want to talk to her.” Robin advised, “Then just speak from your heart.”

“Oooh! Then kiss her!” Chopper added with a nod, “That’s important.”

“Kiss her?” Luffy pondered, “But wouldn’t that be awkward if she doesn’t-"

“Don’t overthink it, Luffy. Trust us.” Chopper giggled excitedly.

Luffy turned to Robin inquisitively. She nodded in agreement.

The captain grinned. “All right. I’m gonna do it! Thanks, guys!”

“Any time.” Robin chuckled.

---

You spent the rest of the day in your room, avoiding Luffy. Completely overthinking the way you’d practically run away from him earlier.

A knock sounded at your door. “Mon amour,” Sanji’s voice said through the wood, dripping with its usual devotion, “dinner will be ready in ten. I made one of your favorites!”

“Okay, thanks, Sanji. I’ll be down in a bit,” You called, beginning to prepare yourself to leave the safety of your room.

“Also, Luffy’s looking for you.” The cook added with much less enthusiasm.

You froze, your heart pounding in your ears, “Okay” was all you said.

Sanji’s footsteps faded away, leaving you alone once again.

“Fuck it.” You said eventually, tired of wallowing in self-pity. You opened your door and made your way to the top deck.

Suddenly, two arms wrapped around you from behind. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You jumped and spun around to face Luffy, “Jeez, you scared me, Lu!”

He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck, “Sorry, I’ve just been lookin’ for you everywhere. I’ve got somethin’ to tell you.”

“Okay?” You fiddled with the tips of your fingers.

“It’s important.” He looked around, “But not here. Follow me.”

The captain grabbed your hand and began leading you towards the front of the ship.

He stopped just before the ship’s figurehead and turned to you, taking both of your hands in his. “Okay. This is my favorite place on the ship, so I think this is a good spot.” He fidgeted nervously, and his expression turned serious.

“Luffy, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Luffy took a deep breath, squeezing your hands gently.

Then he brought his lips down onto yours.

Your eyes widened in shock as your body tensed.

Luffy slid his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him. Warmth radiated through your body, and you relaxed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

It was a soft, affectionate kiss. The captain

kept his hands where they were despite wanting to touch elsewhere. He wanted to claim every part of you as his. He'd watched Nami demolish Sanji enough times to be wary of how he touched women.

You pulled away after a moment, needing a moment to process the event.

Luffy tilted his head in confusion. “Did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, no, that was…” you looked away shyly, “...Good.”

Luffy smiled his wide, goofy smile. “That’s a relief; I thought you were gonna turn me down for a second.”

“Why would I ever do that? You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

He tensed, his ears turning a vibrant shade of pink. “I am?”

You nodded.

His smile grew even more comprehensive, “Then you’re the kindest, funniest, and most beautiful woman I’ve met.”

“Luffy! Get your dirty paws off her!” Sanji’s angry voice sounded from the deck below, interrupting the moment you and Luffy were in the middle of. “Dinner’s ready!”

Luffy laughed, ignoring Sanji’s demand to let you go. “Finally! I'm starving!”

“You're always hungry, Luffy.” You chuckled.

“I can't help it! I gotta have enough energy to protect what's mine.” He winked, “Let's go eat!”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You were his.

[soulofapatrick]

Domesticated - Jace Herondale x Female (Daylighter) Reader

Summary: this is a 5 + 1 of all the times you and Jace act like a couple even before you admit feelings for each other

Words: 6k

Warnings: injury, bleeding, blood drinking

Y/N’s POV - 

Part One

I’m not really sure when Jace appearing at random hours of the day in my apartment became a normal things. He’s dirty and covered in ichor from a demon hunt the Clave sent him and Alec on and he’s grumbling to himself as he shrugs off his leather jacket. There’s dried blood on him from wounds his iratze rune probably healed and he’s toeing off his shoes before grumbling more about the demons. 

“I’m going to shower.” He tells me, voice gruff but there’s a softness to it as he addresses me. 

“Alright Jace.” I respond, turning back to the show I was watching, waiting up for him to get back as it’s nearly 2am. Being a vampire is weird, especially a daylighter like Simon as at first I was nocturnal and now, suddenly, I’m back to daylight hours. It was weird getting used to humanity again but ever since Jace has been coming round it’s been easier somehow. 

As I listen to the sound of the water running in the bathroom, I can’t help but think about how effortlessly Jace fits into my life. We’ve been…friends? Yeah, friends for so long, and lately, it feels like we’ve crossed some invisible line into something more. But whenever I’m around him, my heart would be pounding if it could still beat and there’s a stirring in my undead soul, a flutter of excitement I though I had long forgotten. 

If it weren’t for Jace, I might have left the Shadowhunter world behind altogether, taken Magnus up on whisking me somewhere far away, maybe Canada, Clary and Simon, my own best friends, seem to have forgotten about me again, lost in their own adventures and relationship. And Luke, the only parental figure in my life, is more invested in his pack than checking up on me. But somehow, Jace always manages to find his way back to my doorstep, like a guiding light in the darkness. 

I remember the first time he appeared on my doorstep, how he looked at me with those piercing golden eyes and saw something in me that no one else seemed to. He didn’t treat me like a monster or a freak because of what I had become, but instead, he saw me for who I truly am—a creature worthy of love and friendship.

And now, sitting here on the couch, waiting for him to remerge from the bathroom, I can’t help but wonder how the hell we ended up here in this weird dance and routine, so domesticated. One moment we’re battling demons and next, we’re lounging on the couch like a couple of teenagers on a lazy Sunday afternoon. 

Finally, after what feel like an eternity, Jace remerges from the bathroom, looking surprisingly innocent and boyish in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a graphic tee-shirt that I’m pretty sure is either mine or my brothers. His hair is still damp from the shower, tousled in a way that makes him look disarmingly handsome. Despite the exhaustion tech into his features, there’s a spark in his golden eyes that never fails to draw me in. 

Jace collapses onto the couch beside me, his head finding its place on my shoulder, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. His weight against me is comforting, like an anchor tethering me to reality amidst the chaos of our lives. I close my eyes, revelling in the warmth of his presence and the steady rhythm of his breath against my skin.

As exhaustion finally catches up to him, his breathing evens out, lulling me into a sense of peace. I listen to the sound of his steady inhales and exhales, a gentle melody that soothes my restless mind. And as I drift off into sleep, I'm enveloped in the cocoon of his scent—sunshine and something uniquely Jace, mixed with the subtle fragrance of my shower products. It's a comforting aroma, one that fills me with a sense of belonging and contentment.

In the depths of slumber, I feel his warmth beside me, a constant presence that eases my fears and worries. But when I wake in the morning, he's gone, leaving behind only a hastily scrawled note on my coffee table. My heart sinks as I read his words, explaining that Alec called him in early for paperwork and debriefing on the previous day's hunt.

Despite the pang of disappointment at his absence, I can't help but smile at the thought of him, out there in the world, fighting alongside his fellow Shadowhunters. And as I rise to start the day, I carry with me the memory of his presence, the echo of his warmth lingering in the air like a promise of his return.

Part Two

I awake to a crashing and the grumbled cry of Jace, my panic immediately vanishing at the sound of his voice. My phone reads 7.03pm and I’m realising my nap was longer than I had planned or anticipated, having tried to stay awake for Jace who had messaged me to say he’d be home in time for dinner. 

As I groggily process the situation, something within me stirs at the realisation Jace used the word “home” to describe my place. It’s a simple word, but coming from him, it carries a weight that sends a flutter through my un-beating heart. I push aside the covers and pull myself sleepy from bed, feeling the fabric of a shirt that definitely isn’t mine brush against my skin as it reaches mid-thigh. 

Shuffling towards the kitchen, I’m met with the sight and smell of chaos. Jace is in the midst of a culinary disaster, his brow furrowed in frustration as he grumbles to himself. The scent of burning food fills the air, assaulting my sensitive vampire senses, But despite the mess and the mishap, there’s something oddly endearing about the scene—the way Jace is so determined to make dinner for us, even if it means nothing is going according to plan. 

As I approach him, I can’t help but smile at the sight of him, his hir tousled and his expression a mix of annoyance and determination. Despite the chaos, there a sense of warmth and familiarity in the air, a feeling of him that I’ve come to associate with him. 

I head straight for the fridge to grab fresh ingredients as soon as I get the gist of what he was trying to make by the minced meat and the spaghetti, catching the way he looks at me. There’s a softness in his gaze, a silent appreciation for my presence and the way I effortlessly step in to salvage the situation. But when I reach for the pasta sauce, Jace stops me, holding up a jar of red liquid. 

My heart tries to burst out of my chest when I realise what it is. Jace wasn’t just trying to make dinner for us; he was trying to recreate a meal I loved as a human, altered for my now vampire self. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness and the depth of his care for me. 

“Raphael said it was the best of the best and told me how to prepare it so it doesn’t…” Jace waves his hands around trying to think of the word Raphael used, “Separate?” 

I can’t help but laugh softly at the face Jace makes as he says the word ‘separate’. It’s moments like these that remind me of just how endearing he can be, even when he’s trying his best to navigate unfamiliar territory like helping a vampire like me. 

Stepping closer to him, I wrap my arms around him in a hug, feeling the tension in his muscles as he hesitates before finally relaxing enough to return the embrace. His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me close as he buries his face in my hair. In the moment, with the scent of blood and spices lingering in the air and the warmth of Jace’s embrace surrounding me, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for the man standing in front of me. 

Reluctantly, Jace finally lets me go, suggesting we try cooking again. As I try to assist him, he’s suddenly spinning me back to face and him and gripping my waist in his strong hands, lifting me and sitting me on a clean area of the counter top, “You’re to just sit there and look pretty while I work this out.” He says with a smirk, a hint of redness colouring his cheeks. 

I can’t help but let out the most embarrassing giggle at his sudden shyness, feeling a warmth spread through me at his playfulness. As I watch him move around the pitch with practiced ease, a sense of contentment washes over me. Despite the chaos and mishaps, being here with Jace feels like home. 

And as I sit on the counter, watching him cook, I cant’t help but feel grateful for moments like these—simple, ordinary, mundane moments that remind me of what I could have had when human. Surrounded by the warmth and aroma of our makeshift meal and Jace’s soft humming as he cooks, I know that no matter what challenges may come our way, as long as we have each other, we'll always find a way to make it through.

Part Three

The library is quiet as I slip inside, the familiar scent of old books and parchment greeting me like an old friend. Alec had given me permission to use the Institute as a safe haven whenever I like, and I often find myself wandering towards the library. It’s become my sanctuary, a place where I can escape the weird world I’m now a part of and lose myself in the pages of novels and histories. 

As I roam the aisles, my fingers trailing along the spines of countless books, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. The library is a treasure trove of knowledge, and I’ve made it my mission to learn as much as I can about the Shadowhunter world. I immerse myself in the histories of the Clave, learning about the battles fought and the heroes who rose to prominence, the history of the main families in this world. 

Eventually, I pick a book off the shelves, one that Alec had actually recommended to me during one of our conversations. It’s a thick volume filled with tales of Shadowhunter lore, and I can’t wait to delve into its pages. With a contented sigh, I sink into one of the soft loveseats scattered throughout the massive library, feeling eh weight of the book in my hands as I lose myself in the pages. 

For the rest of the afternoon, I’m lost in a world of magic and mystery, my surroundings fading away as I become immersed in the story unfolding before me. The hours pass in a blur, but in the moment, surrounded by the knowledge and history of the Shadowhunters, I feel a sense of belonging and purpose that I’ve been searching for since the day I was turned. 

My attention is momentarily drawn away from the pages of the book in my hand by the faint murmur of voices approaching. It takes a moment but I’m recognising the voices, the cadence of their speech familiar to me even from a distance with my new hearing abilities. But it’s the sound of the library door opening that truly captures my attention, and when I look up, my heart skips a beat at the sight of a familiar blonde figure standing in the doorway. 

Jace. 

His golden eyes scan the room, searching, until they land on me. A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features in a way that never fails to make my heart flutter like it’s still beating, “There you are, Mouse,” He greets, using the stupid pet name he’s decided for me, “You weren’t at home.” 

As he strides over, my attention is captivated by the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his tight black shirt, each movement a testament to his strength and grace. My pulse would be skyrocketing if it could, and I can feel a flush from the recent blood I drank creeping its way up my neck as he stops in front of me, his presence commanding and magnetic. 

“Hey Jace,” I manage to say, voice betraying the flutters of excitement I feel within me. 

He smirks, golden eyes dancing with amusement as if he knows what he’s doing to me, “What were you doing here all alone?” He asks, tone teasing yet filled with genuine curiosity. 

I just shrug, attempting to maintain an air of casualness despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within me, “Just needed the quiet.” I reply, my voice soft. 

He nods in understanding, his expression softening as he reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The simple gesture sending a shiver down my spine, igniting a rush of sensations that I struggle to contain. His proximity, his touch—it's all too much, and yet not enough.

“Hey, listen,” He says, his voice warm and inviting, “We’re all heading to the Hunter’s Moon to hear Simon sing, You wanna join us?” 

The thought of being surrounded by so many voices, sounds and smells—the overwhelming sensory overload—has me shuddering involuntarily. I feel a knot form in my stomach, a wave of anxiety washing over me at the mere thought of venturing out into the bustling world beyond the quiet of the Institute currently. 

With a shaky breath, I shake my head almost aggressively, “No, I think I’ll pass.” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, “I’m… I’m not really in the mood for crowds tonight.” 

Jace nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic, “Hey, that’s okay,” He reassures me, his voice gentle, and he’s surprising me by leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, “You do what feels right for you. But if you ever change your mind, we’ll be there.” 

I offer him a weak smile, grateful for his understanding, “Thanks Sunshine.” I murmur, the weight of my anxiety slowly easing with his words of reassurance and his sweet actions. 

As Jace turns to leave, I watch him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over me like a gentle tide. His departure leaves an ache in my chest, a yearning for something more, something I can't quite name. But then, I feel the lingering warmth of his kiss on my cheek, a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through me.

Despite my reluctance to join them, a part of me wishes I could be there, sharing in the camaraderie and laughter with Jace and the others. The thought of being by his side, laughing and joking like we always do, fills me with a bittersweet longing. 

In the moment, as I sit alone in the quiet solitude of the library, the whole interaction feels strangely domesticated, as if it’s something we’ve done a thousand times before. Jace’s kiss was casual yet intimate, like it was a natural extension of our friendship, and yet it leaves me yearning for more. 

I can’t help but replay the moment in my mind, the sensation of his lips against my cold skin, the warmth of his touch. It’s a memory I want to hold onto, to savour and cherish, and yet it only serves to deepen my desire for him. 

As I sink back into the soft cushions of the loveseat, the ache in my chest lingers, a constant reminder of the feelings I can’t shake. I want him to kiss me again, to make me feel alive in a way I never thought possible. And as I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh, I know that despite the risks and uncertainties, I can't deny the pull he has on my undead heart.

Part Four

I honestly have no idea how I ended up in the training room with Jace but I definitely know how I ended up on my ass glaring up at his laughing figure. Jace decided that he was going to teach me how to defend myself as Alec wants downworlders to help Shadowhunters on patrols to bridge the gap that had formed since Valentine. 

So here I am, climbing to my feet and glaring at Jace who readies himself for another round and my body is already aching. Jace is already readying himself for another round, and I steel myself for the onslaught, determined to at least make him break a sweat. As he lunges at me, I use my vampire speed to dodge and jab him in the back with my elbow with precision. But before I can revel in the small victory, he’s already spinning around and swiping my feet out from underneath me again. 

I hit the ground with a frustrated grunt, the air would have been knocked out of me if I were still breathing. I let out a sound of pure annoyance as I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling so goddamn angry that I haven’t managed to get Jace down once. 

“Come on, Mouse,” Jace says, offering me a hand up, “You’re getting better, I promise.” 

I take his hand and pull myself to my feet yet again, but the weight of defeat still hangs heavy on my shoulders. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to measure up to Jace's level of skill and agility. It's frustrating, disheartening even, to constantly fall short despite my best efforts.

With a heavy sigh, I get back into position, expecting Jace to do the same but instead a small gasp is drawn from me when I feel his body practically pressed to my back as he adjusts my positioning. I feel a rush of warmth as he nudges my feet into a better position and adjusts my arms, guiding them a little higher. 

His touch is firm yet gentle, his hands moving with practiced precision as he adjusts my stance. And then, his hands fall to my hips, twisting them slightly to improve my balance before he steps back, satisfied with his work. 

I’m left standing there, the lingering sensations of his touch sending a shiver down my spine. Despite the lack of a heartbeat or any physical sensations, I can’t deny the way he makes me feel. Safe. Protected. As if, just for a moment, the weight of the world is lifted from my shoulders and I can simply be. 

With a renewed determination, I square my shoulder and focus on the task at hand. As we being sparring again, I find myself moving with a newfound confidence, each strike more precise than the last. And then, miraculously, it happens—I actually manage to get Jace down for once. 

I just watch in disbelief as he hits the ground, a surprised laugh escaping him as he looks up at me with sparkling eyes. In the moment, his laughter is like music to y ears, lighthearted. As Jace lies there, sprawled on the ground with a grin that could light up the room, I can't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. His boyish charm and playful energy are infectious, making me forget for a moment that we're supposed to be training. But as he starts to rise, that cocky smirk forming on his lips, I know the challenge isn't over yet.

With a twinkle in his eyes, he beckons me forward, goading me to try again. His confidence is palpable, almost tangible in the air between us. And I, of course, take the bait, eager to prove myself once more. 

But, as I unleash my vampire strength and speed, throwing my self into the spar with all I’ve got, I quickly realise that Jace has activated both runes, his agility now matching mine. His speed rune makes him a formidable opponent, dodging and waving with ease, always one step ahead. 

In the blink of an eye, he’s behind me, sweeping my feet out from under me with a swift motion. I feel the ground rushing up to meet me, but my reflexes kick in instinctively. As I tumble backwards, I grab onto Jace’s shirt, pulling him down with me. 

We land in a tangled heap, laughter bubbling up between us as we lie there, catching our breath. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the world around us fading away until it's just the two of us, tangled together on the ground. I can smell how sweet and like sunshine Jace’s blood smells in his veins and feel the way his heart is pounding as he buries his face in my neck. 

And in the moment, I realise just how much I enjoy being with him, the easy camaraderie and undeniable chemistry between us, making me, again, realise just how domesticated we are with each other. 

Part Five

The rain is coming down so hard it’s bordering on hail and as overwhelming as my senses are, the sound of it hitting the windows of my apartment is actually very comforting. Jace is in the shower again, coming back from another demon nest hunt and he’s told me he ordered pizzas on his way home as he invited the others around to jin us for the movie night before he jumped in the shower. 

As grateful as I am for his presence, a flicker of anxiety creeps into my mind at the thought of the others joining us. Alec and Magnus have always been welcoming, their easygoing nature together putting me at ease from the start. But Simon and Clary, lost in their own bubble of love, often seem oblivious to anyone around them nowadays, especially me their childhood friend. And Izzy.. well, Izzy can get anyone she wants with a bat of her eyelashes has me a little jealous. 

As I wait for Jace to emerge from the shower, the sound of the rain drumming against the window grows louder, echoing the turmoil of my thoughts. I find myself questioning whether I’ll be able to navigate the dynamics of the evening, whether I’ll be able to hold my own amidst the company of the Shadowhunters and Downworlders that make up Jace’s inner circle. 

But then, as if sensing my apprehension, Jace appears, a towel draped casually around his waist and a smile lighting up his face. It’s as if time itself pauses for a moment, allowing me to drink in the sight before me. His presence is like a beacon of light in the dimly lit apartment, his golden eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief. With his damp hair tousled and his skin glistening with droplets of water, he looks every bit like an adonis, a vision of strength and beauty. 

The towel draped casually around his waist hangs dangerously low, teasingly revealing the beginnings of his happy trail. My gaze is drawn to the tantalising glimpse of skin, the curve of his hips, the sculptured muscles of his abdomen. It's a sight that leaves me breathless, a reminder of just how effortlessly attractive he is.

But it's not just his physical appearance that captivates me; it's the way he carries himself, with a confidence that borders on arrogance yet somehow remains endearing. His smile is like a beacon of warmth, infectious and irresistible, drawing me closer with its magnetic pull.

As he moves closer, the scent of his shower gel fills the air, a heady mixture of musk and citrus that sends a shiver down my spine. I find myself mesmerised by the play of light and shadow on his skin, the way the droplets of water cling to his body like liquid diamonds. He brushes a gentle kiss against my cheek, his touch reassuring in its familiarity, a warmth spreading through me, soothing the lingering traces of anxiety that had gripped me moments before. His touch is a familiar reassurance, grounding me to the present moment and easing the flutter of my nonexistent heartbeat. 

But before I can fully lose myself in the intimacy of the moment, a sharp knock at the door interrupts us, shattering the fragile bubble of privacy we’ve created. With a playful smack to Jace’s arm I stop him from heading to the door, “Go get some damn clothes on, I’ll answer it.” Before I’m striding over to answer the door, cheeks flushed with a heat that most likely betrays the intensity of my emotions. 

As I swing the door open, Jace is ducking into our room and I’m met with the amused gazes of Alec and Magnus, their eyebrows raised in teasing curiosity. Magnus’ playful smirk hints at the mischief dancing in his eyes, while Alec's expression is a mix of amusement and affection. 

Despite my embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable moment, I can't help but smile at the sight of them. Their presence is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the room and dispelling the tension that had threatened to linger.

Suppressing the urge to bury my burning cheeks in my hands, I offer them a sheepish grin, knowing they heard what I said through the door, hoping to deflect their teasing with a lighthearted remark. But as Magnus's eyebrow quirks suggestively, I know that my attempt at nonchalance has fallen short. So, with a sigh of resignation, I step aside to let them in, knowing that there's no use in trying to hide the flush that still colours my cheeks

As I step aside to let them in, Alec hands me a DVD with a knowing smile. I can’t help bit roll my eyes fondly at his choice—Dracula. It’s become somewhat of an inside joke between me and Jace so I just know Jace told him to bring it. But before I have a chance to protest, Magnus is interjecting, his tone unreadable as he tells me “I’m afraid the others won’t be joining us tonight,” 

But Magnus’ words cut through the light-hearted banter, his tone carrying an unexpected weight as he informs me of the absence of our other friends. A pang of disappointment courses through me, a subtle ache in my chest as I realise that Clary and Simon won't be joining us tonight. They were more than just friends—they were my childhood companions, the ones who had been there through thick and thin. Their absence feels like a tangible loss, a reminder of how much our lives have changed since those carefree days of youth.

As I put the DVD in and get it ready, sinking into the couch with a heavy heart, I can't help but feel a sense of longing for the comfort of their presence. But I push aside those feelings, focusing instead on the company of Alec and Magnus, who have become like family to me in their own right. 

I sink into the cushions, allowing Alec and Magnus to take the other couch as we wait for Jace to return with the pizzas. Despite the disappointment lingering in the air, there's a quiet camaraderie between us, a shared understanding that in times of need, we can always rely on each other.

As the anticipation of Jace's return hangs in the air, the sound of the door opening signals his arrival. He appears just in time to answer the door, a grin spreading across his face as he enters with pizzas in hand. The sight of him brings a flicker of warmth to my heart, dispelling the lingering disappointment of our missing friends. 

Jace sets the pizzas down on the table with a flourish, his presence injecting a sense of energy into the room. With a casual ease, he joins us on the couch, seamlessly sliding in beside me. Without a second thought, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me snugly into his side. The gesture both  comforting and familiar, a silent reassurance of his affection for me. I lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against mine as he adjusts the blanket to cover us both. It's a simple act, but it speaks volumes about the bond we share—a bond that transcends words and barriers, connecting us on a deeper level.

With the remote in hand, Jace settles back against the cushions, his gaze fixed on the screen as he starts the movie. As the opening credits roll, I feel a sense of contentment wash over me, grateful for the warmth of Jace's embrace and the company of friends who feel like family.

Despite the disappointments and challenges we may face, in this moment, surrounded by laughter and love, I know that we'll always have each other. And as we lose ourselves in the world of Dracula, I find solace in the simple pleasures of friendship and companionship, knowing that no matter what the future may hold, we'll face it together, as a team.

Plus One

I’m not really sure how it happened but one moment I’m walking home from a day at the coffee shop and the next I’m being thrown into a wall. A wave of disorientating pain washes over me, leaving me gasping for breath and struggling to make sense eo what just happened. My sense reel, the world spinning in a dizzying blur as I try to focus on what just hit me. 

For a terrifying moment, I’m convinced that this is it—that I’m facing my end, torn to shreds by whatever unseen force assaulted me. Panic claws at the edges of my consciousness, threatening to consume me as I brace for the final blow. 

But then, as suddenly as it began, the assault ceases, leaving me trembling and shaken in its wake, unable to heal as I’ve lost too much blood. Slowly, I stagger to my feet, the world still spinning around me as I struggle to regain my bearings.The realisation that I’ve lost too much blood to heal hits me like a physical blow, leaving me lightheaded and unsteady. Every step is a battle against the dizziness and weakness that threatens to overwhelm me, but I push forward with grim determination. 

With each faltering step, the distance to the institute feels impossibly far, unable to use vampire speed without passing out. Panic sets in as I realise that Jace, my lifeline, is at the Institute today, and he hasn’t called to tell me he’s on his way home. Fear grips me like a vice, squeezing the breath from my lungs as I struggle to keep moving forwards. 

The world around me blurs as I stumble out of the alleyway and into the desired streets. My vision swims, the darkness closing in around me as I fight to stay conscious. Each breath is a struggle, my lungs burning with exertion as I push my body beyond its limits. 

Time loses all meaning as I continue to trudge forwards my footsteps echoing in the empty silence of the night. The Institute looms in the distance like a beacon of hope, its towering walls offering the promise of safety and sanctuary. But with each passing moment, it feels as though I'm slipping further and further away, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

Desperation claws at the edge of my consciousness as I force myself to keep moving, driven by the fear of what awaits me if I don’t reach the Institute in time. Every step is a battle against the darkness that threatens to engulf me, but I refuse to give up. 

With every ounce of strength I can muster, I push myself forward, determination fuelling my movements as I draw upon the last reserves of energy within me. As I approach the looming doors of the Institute, desperation spurs me to action, and I unleash the full force of my vampire speed. 

The doors fly open before me with a forceful momentum, swinging wide as if welcoming me home. But even as I breach the threshold, I trigger the wards surrounding the entrance, setting off alarms that echo through the empty halls. Before I can fully comprehend the situation, Jace appears before me, his weapon raised in a defensive stance. The sight of him, strong and unwavering, fills me with both relief and a sense of impending doom. I choke out his name, my voice barely a whisper as I struggle to remain upright. 

My knees give way beneath me, threatening to send me crashing to the unforgiving tiles below. But in the blink of an eye, Jace is there, his arms wrapping around me with lightning speed, catching me before I can hit the ground. The seraph blade clatters to the floor, forgotten in the urgency of the moment as Jace sinks us to the floor, cradling me in his arms, his eyes filled with concern and a hint of fear. I reach out to him, my fingers trembling as they brush against his cheek, a silent plea for reassurance. 

Despite my initial resistance, Jace's urgency is palpable, his wrist pressed insistently against my mouth as he pleads with me to drink. Fear courses through me as I shake my head, the thought of losing control terrifying me to the core. But as the scent of his blood fills my senses, a primal hunger takes hold, overpowering my rational thoughts. With a grip on my hair that borders on painful, Jace guides my mouth to the wound on his wrist, his other hand pressing against the back of my head. The taste of his blood is like nothing I've ever experienced before—warm and intoxicating, with a sweetness that rivals the warmth of the sun. 

As I drink, the fog that had clouded my mind begins to lift, clarity returning with each swallow. Guilt washes over me in waves, but I can't bring myself to stop. Jace's blood is a lifeline, grounding me in the present moment and soothing the ache of my wounds. I feed until I can feel the worst of the wounds stopping bleeding, my tongue lapping at the skin on Jace’s wrist to seal it shut. The taste of his blood lingering on my lips, a bittersweet taste. 

With a sigh of relief, I collapse against Jace's safe chest, my body trembling with exhaustion and relief. His touch is gentle yet firm, his hand cupping my jaw with a tenderness that tugs at my heartstrings. I feel his thumb under my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his, and as I look into those golden eyes, I see the raw emotion reflected in their depths.

Tears glisten in his eyes, a silent testament to the fear and concern he's been harboring for me. His voice is soft as he checks if I'm okay, the sound of it like a soothing balm to my battered soul. In that moment, I realise just how much he cares, how deeply he feels, and the thought fills me with a warmth that transcends the physical. 

As he leans down, his lips ghosting over mine with a hesitance that speaks volumes, I can feel the tension building between us, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air. My heart would be hammering in my chest, a rhythm that matches the erratic beat of his own. A small whine escapes my throat, a sound born of longing and need, and in that instant, his resolve crumbles. His lips crash against mine with a fervour that steals my breath away, a kiss so full of passion and intensity that it leaves me reeling. 

In that moment, I feel alive in a way I never have before, as if every nerve in my body is on fire with the intensity of his touch. It's as if he's breathing life back into me with each caress of his lips, each touch igniting a fire that burns brighter than the sun. 

“Maybe don’t almost die to act upon mutual feelings.” Jace is mumbling against my lips, earning a weak smack from me. 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” He retorts, kissing me softly once again. 

“Later I will.” 

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[biggestxsimps]

A Night with Izu

Third year Izuku x male reader!! (same age.)

A/N: This was requested on our wattpad. Hope you enjoy!!

It was your typical day at U.A High School, and Class 3-A busy with activities. Izuku was busy training with his classmates, pushing himself to become the greatest hero he could be. However, amidst all the hustle and bustle, something caught the attention of his friends.

As they gathered in the common room after training, Mina noticed a notification pop up on Izuku’s phone, which was lying on the table. Curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned in to read the message. Her eyes widened in surprise as she read ‘Can’t wait to see you this weekend love!’ -Y/N.

“Uh, Midoriya?” Mina called out, trying to sound casual before her excitement got the better of her. “Who’s Y/N?!” she called out, a small grin on her lips.

Izuku just returned from the kitchen, holding his glass of water in his hand tightly, almost dropping it. His face turned red. “Uh, It’s… uhm, well…”

Kaminari perked up, he was always up for gossip. He grinned and chimed in. “Come on, Midoriya! Spill the beans! Do you have a boyfriend?”

The room went silent as everyone turned to look at Izuku. He nervously fidgeted with his hands, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I do..” he admitted softly.

Within seconds, a bunch of questions erupted from his classmates.

“How long have you been together?” Uraraka asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“How did you meet?” inquired Iida, adjusting his glasses.

“What’s he like?” Todoroki asked, his expression calm, but his interest piped.

As questions followed each other, Izuku took a deep breath, trying to answer to the best of his ability. “A year nearly now. We met at a convention; he was showcasing his art last year. He’s really talented and popular.” he smiled

“That’s so cool!” Mina exclaimed, letting a soft laugh fall from her lips. “You should invite him over sometime.” She hummed out.

Izuku smiled shyly, reaching a hand up as he rubbed the nape of his neck. “Actually, he’s coming to visit this weekend..” he trailed off, his friends filled with excitement, continuing to ask questions throughout the rest of the week.

The weekend came quickly, and Y/N arrived at U.A, excited to see his boyfriend. He was greeted by All Might in the teacher’s room. 

“Welcome to U.A, young man.” Toshinori spoke up with a small smile. “Midoirya speaks very highly of you. It’s good that he has someone like you.”

“Thank you, All Might.” Y/N replied, feeling a bit starstruck. “It’s an honour to meet the symbol of peace himself..” he whispered.

“Likewise. Non-sense, no need for formalities. Call me Toshinori.” he spoke, making small talk with Y/N, impressed by his talent and rising popularity within the art industry. Eventually, he had to return to his duties, waving goodbye as he left Y/N to wait for Izuku.

Y/N pulled out his sketchbook, beginning to draw. His pencil moved deftly across the paper. He was drawing a detailed and dynamic piece featuring Izuku in action. The drawing depicted Izuku in his hero costume, mid-battle, with energy crackling around him as he released One For All. His expression is fierce, yet determined. Y/N added subtle details to the drawing, including a small heart in the corner, a personal touch that hindered his admiration for the other male.

“Y/N!” Izuku called out as he entered the room. 

Y/N looked up from his sketchbook, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of his boyfriend. He stood up and walked over to Izuku, pulling him into a gentle hug. "Izu," he responded fondly, holding him close for a moment.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Izuku said, his cheeks still slightly flushed from training and excitement. "I had to finish a few things in class."

"It's okay, Izu. I was just working on a new piece," Y/N replied, holding up his sketchbook to show Izuku the drawing he had been working on. The detailed and dynamic piece of art.

Izuku's eyes widened in awe. "Wow, Y/N, this is amazing!" he said softly, feeling both proud and touched by Y/N's talent and dedication.

"I'm glad you like it," Y/N said with a smile. "I wanted to capture how incredible you are as a hero."

Just then, the door opened again, and the rest of Class 1-A burst into the room, unable to contain their excitement any longer.

"There he is!" Mina exclaimed, rushing over to greet Y/N. "Welcome to U.A! We've heard so much about you!"

"Yeah, Midoriya talks about you all the time," Uraraka added with a grin.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Todoroki said, extending a hand.

Y/N shook Todoroki's hand, feeling a warm sense of belonging. "It's great to meet all of you too. Izuku has told me so much about his amazing classmates."

After a lively evening filled with laughter and stories, the energy in the common room began to wind down. One by one, Class members headed to their dorms, leaving Izuku and Y/N alone, nestled comfortably on the couch.

The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over the space. Y/N and Izuku sat close together, their bodies intertwined under a cosy blanket. Y/N’s head rested gently on Izuku’s shoulder, his breathing slow and steady.

Izuku glanced down at Y/N with a soft smile. “You know, I’m really glad you came to visit. I didn’t realise how much I missed you until now.”

Y/N looked up, his eyes shimmering with affection. “I missed you too, Izu. Being here with you and your friends, it feels like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Izuku’s heart swelled at Y/N’s words. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the top of Y/N’s head. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he reached up to cup Izuku’s face in his hands. “And I’m lucky to have you.”

The two shared a tender kiss, their connection deepening in the quiet comfort of the common room. As they pulled away, Izuku wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling him close.

“Do you want to stay like this for a while?” Izuku asked softly, his voice barely a whisper.

Y/N nodded, snuggling closer. “I’d love that.”

Masterlist

-Written by owner 2

[asaka-lucy-dr-rc]

Happy Birthday, Pixel (@pixelatedraindrops)!!! 🎉🎂💜

Yuma:Cough, cough... hack! Yakou: Yuma, are you alright? Yuma: Y-yes, I’m fi— cough! Yakou: ...Ah, looks like your fever’s spiking. This is probably the peak. It’s tough now, but once your temperature maxes out, you’ll start getting better soon. Yuma: I’m sorry, Chief... I’m causing trouble for everyone... Halara: If you have the energy to apologize, focus on getting better instead. Here, take your medicine on time. Yuma: Thank you, Halara... Fubuki: Yuma, if you’re having trouble sleeping, I can gently pat your chest for you. They say tapping at the same rhythm as the heartbeat has a rest-in-peace effect! Yuma: Thanks, Fubuki... Wait, what did you just sa— cough! Desuhiko: Yuma! If you can’t sleep, I can sing you a lullaby! Yuma: Cough! A lullaby doesn’t need a guitar, Desuhiko... Shinigami: Good grief, how’s anyone supposed to sleep with all this noise?

Vivia doesn’t have any lines in this scene, but he’s somewhere in the picture. Can you find him?

The description of this picture and the message to Pixel are in the collapsed section below:

--- Once again, Happy Birthday, Pixel! 🎉 I’ve been saying for about a year now that I wanted to make a proper sick art painting someday, and I’m happy to say that I finally did. Haha 😄

I had a hard time deciding what to draw. I really liked your idea of tenderness exchanged in a moment of illness, so I considered drawing multiple scenes and combining them like stained glass. But if I did that, I’d probably have to reduce the level of detail in each one to finish it by your birthday. I didn’t want to go with an ordinary composition either, so I ended up with this perspective—looking down at Yuma lying on the sofa. I hadn’t planned it that way at first, but in the end, it kind of feels like looking down into a crib, and I really like that. hehe

The theme for this project was “messy, but still cute.” I had decided from the start that Yuma would be the main focus of this picture, so I paid close attention to making sure his face looked cute. At the same time, I wanted to make him look as messy and pathetic as possible:

It was challenging to paint a pretty face while also making it look disheveled—hot and sweaty, with tears and a runny nose from all the coughing. To be honest, I feel there’s still room for improvement in that regard. So, at some point, I’d like to try drawing it again from a different perspective.

By the way, you may have noticed that I drew the pattern for Yuma's pajamas based on your design!

I liked the pattern of the key that suited him so much that I wanted to draw it someday, and I finally did it this time. I liked the picture linked above, so I matched the temperature displayed on the thermometer to it:

Oh, and I assume Vivia has moved under the sofa in case something happens to Yuma, so he can take care of Yuma quickly. If I hide Desuhiko, this is how he is:

I also hope he is secretly responsible for putting the tissues on the floor in the trash. (But I don't think he would bother to clean up a full trash can, so that would be left until Yakou cleaned it up... 😂) There are many other aspects of your past work that I’ve referred to, but it would be too much to explain them all, so I’ll leave it at that. Finally, I’d like to show you a time-lapse:

(It may look like the colors were applied in an instant, but in reality, 85% of my work time is spent on line drawing, and only 15% is spent on coloring. So if you fast-forward it, it may seem like the coloring was done in an instant. 😅)

I hope you like the picture (and the little details of the characters)! Wishing you a wonderful birthday! 🫶💕💕

[n0vazsq]

Eternal | LS2 x Reader

pairing . . . immortal!logan sargeant x time!traveller!reader

summary . . . Every era you went, you could never shake off the weird feeling of forgetting something, that is until you met Logan on one of your trips

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.4k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . ok whyd this make me tear up a bit?? ALSO NOT MY LAPTOP FINISHING BATTERY WHILE I WAS MID EDITING

. . . The world spins differently when you travel through time. Everything blurs, twisting and contorting until all that’s left are distant moments, fragments of memories that slip through your fingers like sand.

You’ve never been sure why or how it happens, why you can’t remember where you’ve been or who you’ve been with. But one thing is always certain; no matter where you go, no matter what time you fall into, you’re always drawn to him.

Logan.

You’ve seen him before, in so many lives, in so many eras. In one, he was a gladiator; rough and fierce, blood staining his skin as he fought for his life.

In another, he was a knight, riding through the misty hills of the medieval countryside, his eyes full of honor and determination.

And in each of those lives, he was the same. Yet, you never remembered him, not truly. You met him again and again, but each time, you forgot. And it hurt.

The first time you saw him, he was standing in a gladiator’s arena, towering and proud, his muscles flexing with every swing of his sword. You were just a noblewoman, standing in the crowd, your heart caught in your throat as you watched the fight unfold.

There was something about him, something magnetic, that pulled you in. Your gaze never wavered from him, even when the crowd cheered and screamed. And when the battle ended, when his opponent lay defeated at his feet, your eyes met. There was a flicker, an unspoken recognition.

But by the time you saw him again, in another life, you had no memory of that first meeting. You had no memory of the way his smile made your heart race or the way his presence seemed to calm the storm inside you.

All you knew was that you were drawn to him, inexplicably and irrevocably, like a moth to a flame.

And so it went, through every era, every life you lived. In each new world, you forgot him, but he never forgot you.

It was in a quiet little town during the early 1900s that you met him again. The fog had rolled in from the sea, clinging to the cobblestone streets like a heavy blanket.

You had come to this town searching for something you couldn’t quite name, as you always did. Maybe it was peace, or love, or the pieces of your past that you had forgotten in the chaos of time. But when you stepped into that small coffee shop, you saw him.

He was sitting by the window, a cup of coffee in his hands, his fingers curled around the warm porcelain cup. He looked out at the street, his gaze distant, like he was waiting for something.

Or someone.

You walked in, and when your eyes met his, a jolt shot through your chest. There was something about him, something familiar, but you couldn’t place it. He stood up as you walked toward him, his expression softening as if he had been waiting for this moment, this exact moment.

"Hello," he said, his voice warm and inviting, his eyes studying you carefully. "You look… familiar."

"I do?" you asked, your voice hesitant, unsure.

He smiled then, a gentle, knowing smile. "Yes. I don’t know how, but I feel like I’ve known you for a long time."

You tilted your head, trying to make sense of it. His words, his presence, they felt like pieces of a puzzle you hadn’t yet solved. But you couldn’t deny the pull, the magnetic force that seemed to draw you toward him.

And so, you sat with him. The conversation flowed effortlessly between you two, as though you had known each other for years. You laughed together, spoke of dreams and desires, the hopes that flickered inside your hearts. You could feel yourself falling for him, even though you didn’t fully understand why.

But there was something in his eyes, something that hinted at a secret; a hidden truth he hadn’t shared with you. You wanted to know more, to learn what it was that tied you to him, but you couldn’t. He was always so careful, so guarded.

It wasn’t until that night, under the soft glow of the moonlight, when he pulled you into his arms, that he finally spoke the words you had been waiting to hear.

"I’ve been looking for you for so long," Logan whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ve lived for centuries, hoping that one day, I’d find you again. And now, here you are."

You pulled back slightly, searching his face for any sign of doubt. "Centuries?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest. "What do you mean?"

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. "I’m not like other people," he said, his eyes darkening with a weight of unspoken words. "I’ve been alive for longer than I can remember, and each time we meet, you forget me. But I never forget you."

The statement hit you like a wave crashing against the shore. Your heart raced, a whirlwind of emotions tearing through you. He had known you all this time, across every life, and you had never remembered him.

"I-I forget?" you whispered, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his gaze soft and filled with longing. "Every time you travel, you lose your memories of me. But I never forget you. I can’t. I’ve loved you in every life, in every world, and I will keep loving you, no matter how many times we meet."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of sorrow and joy, of love that spanned across the endless expanse of time. "Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don’t understand… how is this possible?"

"I don’t know," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But I know one thing for sure. I love you. And I will love you for as long as I can."

You closed your eyes, allowing his words to wash over you, to fill the empty spaces in your heart that you hadn’t even known were there.

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you, reminding you that, despite the distance between your lives, you were never truly apart.

And then, without another word, Logan leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, soft at first, tentative, as if he was afraid that you might disappear the moment he touched you. But you kissed him back, deepening the kiss, letting the world fall away as you lost yourself in him.

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, as if trying to erase the years of separation between you. His kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he had waited lifetimes to be with you.

And in that moment, you understood; understood the gravity of his love, the depth of his soul’s yearning.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless, your hearts racing. Logan rested his forehead against yours, his breath shaky.

"I don’t know how much time we have," he murmured. "But I’ll take whatever moments we can have together."

You nodded, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his face, memorizing every detail, as if you might forget again. "I don’t care about time," you whispered. "I care about this. I care about you."

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. There was nothing left to say. The silence between you was comforting, like the calm after a storm, as you both allowed the weight of your love to settle over you.

But just as quickly as the peace came, it was broken by the familiar pull of time. You felt it; the tug in your chest, the sensation of everything shifting. You looked up at Logan, your eyes wide with panic.

"No," you whispered, as if the very word could stop it from happening. But it didn’t.

He pulled you into his arms one last time, kissing you deeply, desperately, before the world around you began to blur.

"I will find you again," he whispered, his voice barely audible as the world twisted, and you were torn from him once more. "I promise."

But even as the world spun out of focus, you could feel the warmth of his love, the promise he had made. And no matter where you went, no matter how far time took you, you knew that Logan would always find you.

Because love, true love, couldn’t be lost to the currents of time.

It was eternal.

 taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[hotchfiles]

Hi!! Happy 100th follower bash! I wanted to request Seth Cohen with the prompt “what if you just want something, and you want it so bad?” If you decide to write it, I can’t wait to read whatever you come up with. Thank you!!

lari's 100th follower bash + send me a prompt and one of my boys for a blurb

seth + “what if you just want something, and you want it so bad?”

three times seth let you go and the one he didn't

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      You were his best friend, two little kids watching cartoons and drawing around while your parents drank wine and talked about things you both didn't understand.

      As days and weeks and months went by, the more the drinking wine encounters became something only your mother would do, frequently going to the Cohens to talk to Seth's mom.

      "Your mommy looks sad."

      "She cries a lot too, more than me."

      Divorce is the word that has been making your mother cry apparently, and soon it makes you and Seth cry as well. Divorce means you're going away to a new city with your mom.

      Seth can't do anything about it but hug you tight and hand you the collection of not really great drawings he made of you, for you.

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      You come back for high school, thank God, your mother's job is much more demanding now and she feels your dad can be more present than she is.

      It's like you never left, you feel. Seth instantly clings to you like he did when you were children, except this time his mind is going a thousand miles per hour. He wasn't exactly expecting you to come back and now his mind is completely torn into Summer obsessive thoughts and you.

      You spend hours and hours watching terrible sci-fi tv shows, he's drawing (more often than not, you're the muse), while you read or write on your journal. It's silent and comfortable and people often tease you about how you're the only one to keep him quiet for so long.

      Seth doesn't understand it much either, but he enjoys watching you, the way you furrow your brows when you forget a word, or how you take a deep breath following a surprised sound when something happens in the book you're reading.

      He's been thinking about how at peace you make him feel and he has plans to ask you to homecoming, but some sophomore beats him to it. And he could ask you to go with him instead, drop the other guy. But your eyes almost close while you're smiling telling him about it, so he just lets it go.

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      2.027 miles. 31 hours drive. 4 hour flight.

      Writing came to you as drawing came to him, you both had collab comic books even. He should've known you wouldn't go for Irvine or Berkley. Or any goddamned college in California with a creative writing program. No.

      Northwestern University. Illinois. He heard you gush about it all senior year, and doubting yourself, saying you wouldn't get in anyway. But you did, obviously, you had everything they required and everything any university could hope for in a student. He knew you would get in and he obviously couldn't ask you to stay for him.

      You were just friends.

      And even if you weren't, he would never stop you from going after your passions, what made you happy.

      He visits you when he can. You both kiss and make out and tell each other the sweetest things in whispers only you can hear in those times. Nothing more comes of it though, you're busy and two thousand miles away. He accepts it, he lets go of the idea of having you just yet.

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      Enough is enough though. And when you tell him about the internship opportunity outside of the country you don't smile with your eyes like prom. Your tone uncertain, your whole body weight being held by his arms as you both laid down on your terrible dorm bed.

      And as always he wants you. He wants you so bad. He wants you to stay. To ask him to go with you. Like he wanted you to stay with your dad after the divorce. Like he wanted to be your date for homecoming. Like he's been wanting to call you his girlfriend, his partner, his lover, his wife even.

      "Is it bad to want something so badly?" he says more to himself than to you, really, but still you turn your head to him, using his chest as a support for your chin.

      "I mean... It's just an internship I don't want it that bad—"

      "That's not—I want to ask you to stay. With me. Don't go. And that's selfish." He keeps his eyes glued to the ceiling as if he hadn't just made your heart skip a thousand beats.

      "Then just ask me, funny boy."

      His grip to you tightens, if that's even possible, and he's finally able to not let it go, to not let you go.

[romiiq]

Her name Part 4 (final)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Tw: sadness? Lmao

Rafe sees the post by accident—your hand, adorned with a ring that glints too perfectly in the sunlight, a smile shining even brighter. And the caption: Forever. He studies your fiancé. He’s tall, his head is covered in perfectly brushed waves, each strand catching the light in a way that highlights the effortless charm he exudes. Freckles dot his cheeks, giving him a boyish charm that complements his sophisticated demeanor. But it’s his eyes that draw the most attention—bright green and filled with warmth, they seem to sparkle with genuine affection every time he looks at you, making it easy to see why you chose him, makes it harder to hate him when he realizes why you seem so utterly happy standing by his side.

You’ve let yourself fall fully in love again, and it shows. Your Instagram paints a picture of quiet joy, shots of you laughing with the guy who looks at you as if you were his entire life—your head leaning on his shoulder, his lips pressing a kiss on your forehead. Every photo radiates a contentment that is undeniable, telling him that you have finally found a place to rest your heart.

It hits Rafe like cold water, his chest tight, as if he could feel the pull from miles away. He stares at your photos longer than he should, letting his mind wander back to the days when you once looked at him that way. He thought he’d left you behind, made peace with it, but now all those careful walls he built come tumbling down. He misses you. Desperately, even in that bittersweet way that’s tinged with regret and love that never quite faded. But he can’t reach out. He shouldn’t. You’ve moved on, just as he thought he had.

He breathes out, quiet. You are happy. And that has to be enough.

---

Y/N’s POV

The light is golden, spilling through the stained glass like a benediction, casting a soft glow over the congregation as you stand at the altar, heart racing. Nicholas’ hand is steady in yours, his grip warm and grounding. Your eyes glance at the familiar faces of your loved ones gathered in the pews. Each smile reflects the joy of this moment, and you can see your family beaming with pride, their eyes glistening with tears of happiness. Your closest friends, Sarah and Topper, who have supported you through every twist and turn, sit together, their smiles bubbling over as they exchange knowing glances. You smile, realizing just how right this feels.

As you stand at the altar, you find yourself captivated by the depth of Nicholas' eyes, a mesmerizing green that seems to hold the promise of your future, and for some reason you find yourself searching for a hint of blue on them. They sparkle with a mix of joy and determination, radiating warmth that grounds you in this sacred moment. Every sound around you fades into a soft blur, leaving only the rhythm of your heartbeat and the gentle whispers of your vows. Face to face, your fingers intertwined, as you finally hear the words you have been waiting your whole life for.

“I do”. He says, pulling you back to reality, and you can hear the love in his voice, his commitment echoing through the intimate space.

“Y/N, do you take Nicholas to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, for so long as you both shall live?”. The words of the officiant echo in the church as they wait for your response, and your soon-to-be husband squeezes your hands nervously.

“I do”. You say, feeling the ring slip on your finger and a wide smile spreads on Nicholas’ face as he steps forward urgently to kiss you, both of you closing your eyes to seal the promise to build a happy life together as the crowd bursts into happy cheers and applause. This is it, maybe this is how it's meant to be you think, maybe it's time to stop searching for a glimpse of Rafe in other people and focus on your new life, you say to yourself as you get lost in Nicholas’ lips.

---

Rafe’s POV

Rafe leans against a tree outside the churchyard, half-hidden among the leaves and shadows as the bells ring their triumphant chorus. He knows he shouldn’t be here. He’d convinced himself he’d moved on. But when Sarah had mentioned where the wedding would take place, he couldn’t shake the curiosity—or maybe the aching need—to see you, just this once, stepping into the future you’d once talked about, now with someone else.

Through the open doors of the church, he can see glimpses: the sweep of your white dress, your smile so wide it lights up the space around you. His heart clenches. You look every bit as beautiful as he remembered, even more so, with a happiness that radiates from you in a way he’s never seen before. You don't look back, don't glance toward the doors, and that hits him harder than he’d expected, the bells mock him as he thinks for a moment to burst into the church and tell you how much he loved you and loves you, he thinks about how he would tell you to run away from there together, and how he wishes you would say yes; and still with that urge he does nothing, too mesmerized to move a finger.

Rafe feels the pang of all you might have been. But he’d missed his chance, let you slip through his fingers, and you’d moved on, carving out your own path without looking back. His chest tightens as he realizes that maybe this was what you were always meant for—a love that wasn’t stained with regrets or almosts, with someone who could be everything for you, and you can be everything to that someone.

But still, he stays, watching as you take Nicholas' hand. He knows his name now, thanks to Whezzie, both smiles bright, so full of love and peace. This is what you need, he thinks. You are where you belong, finding a happiness that could sustain you—a happiness he knows, deep down, he could never have offered. His heart aches, but he wants this for you. He wants you to have this piece of forever, even if it means you’d have it with someone else. He swallows hard, feeling that familiar ache, that longing he’s carried for so long, but as Nicholas slips the ring on your hand, he finally feels a sense of closure. He allows himself one last look, whispers a silent goodbye that tastes like bittersweet relief, then turns and walks away as you kiss your now husband.

---

Years later

The world has turned, seasons became years, and now, in this sunlit beach, they find themselves on opposite sides, each surrounded by children’s laughter and the warmth of families reunited on a perfect Sunday. Y/N sits on a blanket watching her husband playing with their child and Rafe walks behind his daughter, watching her as his wife is buying ice cream.

Fate is whimsical, so it makes their eyes meet across the distance. For a moment, the world seems to stop. They freeze there, both hearts racing and time held in a shared silence that speaks volumes. She hasn’t seen him in years, yet he looks much the same—a little older, perhaps, his features softened by time and life, and in that brief exchange, they both see the echoes of everything they had once shared, the moments that had shaped them, even if they now feel like a different lifetime.

Time has softened the edges. There’s a quiet acknowledgement, a knowing smile, as though each of them holds the memory of what they once were like a folded letter in the corner of their heart. They were each other’s first, that kind of raw, intense love that once felt like it could swallow the world whole. Now, it’s a memory laced with nostalgia and a gentle, lingering ache, Rafe wonders if she ever thinks about him as he does sometimes, and Y/N wonders what would have happened if she ever answered his phone calls.

For a moment, they want to reach out, to speak, to ask how they have been. But they don’t. There’s no need. Their lives have become exactly what they were meant to be, or that's what they convince themselves. But in this silent moment, there’s a glance that speaks of all that was and all that still lingers, retracting their happiness for a second, feeling after years a glimpse of love for each other.

Heaven knows that it is enough for the two of them to have a closure, and so it sends her children calling her name, and his daughter tugging his hand, drawing them back to the lives they had chosen. They turned away with a last smile, just like that, back to their families. They move forward, each wrapped in a quiet acceptance that they had found joy, a different joy, in different places. And this is how it ends: a love lost but kept in that corner of the heart where they keep the things that were once their dreams.

.

.

.

.

.

[qvinx]

walker teaching you how to kiss 🙏🏻 and it gets slightly heated

~The Language of Lips~

Walker Scobell x Fem/Reader

A romantic stroll along a quiet trail leads to an unforgettable moment as you and Walker share your first kiss. Sitting together on a bench overlooking a peaceful field, his affectionate gaze and gentle reassurance guide you through the nervousness of something new. The warmth of his touch, the softness of his words, and the shared connection create a memory that feels both tender and timeless.

Warnings: None i think

Word count: 604

A/n: Sorry for a shorter one, and i just wanna say thank you for all the requests and i will be doing them!

I walk beside Walker along a narrow trail lined with tall, swaying grass, the expanse of a golden field stretching out to our left. The warm wind dances through my hair, carrying the scent of sun warmed earth and wildflowers. Walker’s hand intertwines with mine, his touch gentle yet grounding. The sun bathes us in its glow, and the only sound between us is the soft rustling of leaves and the occasional chirp of distant birds.

We haven’t been dating for very long, but being with him feels as natural as breathing fresh air, something simple yet vital. His presence wraps around me like a comforting blanket, and I can’t help but cherish every quiet moment like this.

Up ahead, a wooden bench comes into view, tucked under the shade of a small oak tree. Without needing to say a word, we walk toward it and sit down. The view before us is serene rolling fields blending into the horizon but I feel Walker’s gaze shift away from the scenery.

When I glance at him, he’s already looking at me, his eyes lingering on my face, tracing my features like they’re his favorite masterpiece. My cheeks flush with warmth as a shy smile tugs at my lips.

“What?” I ask, my voice light but teasing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says, his voice soft and sincere. The way he says it makes my heart stutter, and I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face, even as my cheeks burn.

He leans closer, straightening his posture. One of his hands moves to my waist, drawing me toward him, while the other gently cups my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin. His breath grazes my neck, and he places a feather-light kiss there, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching mine.

A nervous laugh escapes me as I nod slightly, my heart pounding in my chest. “Mmh,” I murmur.

He leans in, and just as his lips almost meet mine, I place a hand on his chest, stopping him. My heart races, and I close my eyes to steady myself. “I’ve never done this before,” I admit in a rush, my voice small and uncertain.

When I open my eyes, he’s looking at me with a soft smile a mix of patience and amusement. “I can teach you,” he offers, his tone gentle and reassuring.

I nod, biting my lip nervously.

“Just press your lips to mine, starting with my upper lip,” he says softly.

I lean in, my lips brushing against his as I follow his lead. His lips are soft and warm, moving in a rhythm that feels foreign but exhilarating. My hands find their way to his face, cradling it as if afraid to let go.

When I pull away to catch my breath, it’s only for a moment. He closes the distance again, his lips claiming mine with more confidence. His tongue gently grazes my lower lip, asking for permission, and I melt into him.

Before I know it, I’m straddling his lap, my legs on either side of him. His hands explore my lower back, fingers tracing soothing circles against my skin. The intensity of it all is dizzying yet perfect.

Eventually, I pull back, resting my forehead in the crook of his neck. My eyes remain closed as I try to steady my breathing. His hands continue their gentle movements on my back, calming me.

“Gosh, I’ve waited for that,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the nape of my neck.

I lift my head to meet his gaze, a smile spreading across my face. His eyes are alight with joy, and in this moment, everything feels right.

Do not copy my work or claim it as yours!

[scribes-of-valar]

unexpected loyalties

Bilbo Baggins x fem!dwarf!reader (no beard)

a/n: based off the movie, not the books, just to clear that up if there is any book inconsistencies. First time writing for this fandom, and posting on this blog, let me know if I got anything wildly incorrect

Summary: Neither of you ever expected to like each other, let alone anything more. But you find yourself drawn to one another, despite the boundaries between you.

Another knock, he wasn’t sure he could handle many more visitors. Four dwarves were enough for him to want to run out of his home screaming. He tightened the ties of his robe, took a deep breath, and quietly prepared himself to turn down whoever waited outside his door. 

Yet, when it swung open his chest deflated and he found himself completely underwhelmed. He should be thankful that his doorstep was empty and that there were no more unwelcome guests to turn away. But he found himself incredibly confused. “Hm,” he pokes his head out slightly, looking around for stragglers. “Hello?” He calls out hesitantly. 

He jumps back as a woman leaps out of his rose bushes. “Oh!” You smile widely at him, shoving your hand out for a strong handshake. “Sorry about that, I thought I had the wrong hobbit.”

He gives your hand a brief shake, never one to forgo his manners. “I believe you do. In fact, you all do.”

Your face screws up in distaste and you look so forlorn he almost feels bad. Almost. “You are Mr. Bobbins aren’t you?”

He shakes his head with a scoff, “I am most certainly not. My name is Bilbo Baggins-”

You interrupt him with a relieved laugh. “Oh, apologies, then you are the hobbit I’m looking for. I’m afraid my cousin’s handwriting is nearly impossible to read. So the meeting is here, then?” You look at him expectantly, eyes wide and eager. 

Bilbo has to suppress the urge to stomp his foot and slam the door. He’s too old to be behaving like a child, but bebother and confusticate these dwarves he can take no more visitors! “There is no meeting here!” He snaps, nearly shouting in your face. 

Your brows furrow and you shake your head stubbornly. “They cannot have canceled it.” You seemed nearly as stubborn as him. You plant your feet, crossing your arms and glaring at him. “I would have been informed.”

Bilbo opens his mouth to inform you that no, nothing has been canceled because nothing has been scheduled. At least nothing he has been informed of. He knows this is all that blasted wizard’s fault. If only he’d stuck to his fireworks and simply left Bilbo alone, he would be having the peaceful evening he’d wished for. 

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, peering over his shoulder as something that sounds very old and sentimental breaks behind him. “Sorry about that!” A voice calls from his kitchen. Bilbo clenches his eyes shut, sucking in a sharp breath, and leans so you can’t see further into his home. 

“I do believe that was Balin’s voice,” you tell him, your voice low with an unspoken threat. “Mr. Bobbins-”

“Baggins.”

“Mr. Baggins,” you correct, “are my kin in there?” 

He shrugs, playing dumb and giving you a confused look. “And who,” he draws slowly, “would your kin be?”

You let out a heavy sigh. He doesn’t have any time to stop you as you nudge him to the side and shove your way into his home. “Thank you for the hospitality,” you mutter sarcastically. Your face lights up as you catch sight of an unruly blonde head of hair. “Fili! Kili!”

They call your name in return, rushing over to greet you. “Any trouble on the journey?” Kili asks as he takes your sword from you. He absentmindedly tosses it towards Bilbo who has to rush to catch it before it breaks something. 

“None at all, you know I’m a lot better at subtlety than the two of you are,” you tease. 

Bilbo’s eyes narrow as he takes you and the other dwarves in. You said your cousin sent you a letter. There was no possible way you could be their cousin. You didn’t look like any dwarf he had ever seen. Not that he had seen many, of course. There wasn’t enough gold or adventure in Hobbiton to bring many through. 

But he had heard the stories of dwarven women. How they were a dying breed, far more men than there were women. He also knew that it was incredibly hard to tell a wife apart from her husband, mainly because of the great big beards. 

You were taller than the others, far less hair, and simply not what he thinks when he pictures a dwarvish woman. “I see you met our host,” Fili nods towards Bilbo whose arms are now absolutely overloaded with the ridiculous amount of weapons you carry. Fili is clearly suppressing a slight smirk as he looks upon Bilbo. It’s hard not to feel a little offended. 

You turn back to Bilbo and frown, “Not a very welcoming host, these hobbits, are they?” Kili shakes his head, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and dragging you back towards the kitchen. 

Bilbo huffs and tosses the weapons to the floor with a put-off look. There’s loud cheering coming from the kitchen as the others greet you. He takes in a deep breath and sets his shoulders. Enough is enough. Clearly, there has been some mix-up. Whatever bearded reunion is taking place in his dining room is not meant for him. He’s just going to walk over to you all and inform you to take your business elsewhere. 

Bilbo only manages one step forward before a knock echoes through the front hall. It seems deafening, an ominous warning. He knows that if he goes to answer the door there will be no going back. These dwarves will be here to stay. He’s tempted to just ignore it, to usher you all out and slam the fence closed behind you. 

But then there’s a second knock, a third. He cannot simply ignore it, it’s too rude. Despite knowing better, he goes and answers the door. He’s nearly knocked over by a pile of stacked dwarves. He jumps back in shock, glaring down at them all. 

“That would be the rest of them,” you muse, appearing out of nowhere behind him. You grin at his affronted face, “Got any extra chairs?”

The Hobbit is certainly interesting. You struggle to find a kind word for him. He’s not exactly happy to have you all in his home. And you can’t entirely blame him, you and your kin aren’t the best guests. But Gandalf had told you all he was perfectly fine hosting the company in his hobbit hole. 

Though, you have a growing suspicion he wasn’t telling the whole truth if the wicked looks Bilbo is shooting him is anything to go by.  “Need a hand?” You ask, hovering in the entry of his pantry. 

He lets out a low sigh, just barely glancing over his shoulder at you. He stands amidst the wreckage of his once-great food stores. The rest of it is being bickered over in his dining room. If what Gandalf has told you is true and he is going to be your thief, then it shouldn’t matter. 

You’ve done him a sort of favor, clearing out his stores before the journey. No one wants to come back home to rot and mold having crept over all their food. But again, you’re starting to doubt the wizard’s words. He’s known for his tricks, but you didn’t think he would do something as sly as this. 

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” His voice is snippy, but he’s trying his best to be polite. You barely hold back a laugh at how hard he’s keeping up the pretense of being gracious. 

“Don’t be stubborn,” you insist, moving past him and grabbing a broom. “I don’t mind. Durin knows we aren’t a clean people.” He gives you an odd look as you start to sweep the mess up. He stays firmly planted in his spot, gaze tracking you. You try not to grow uncomfortable at his intense stare but it is hard. 

“You are a dwarf, then?”

Your face screws up in irritation and you shoot him a severe look. He lets out a slight whimper, whirling around and pretending to be fascinated by his shelves. “Yes,” you grit out, “I am. Despite the oddities in my appearance, I am a dwarf.”

He whips back towards you, face drawn tight in confusion. “Oddities?” He demands.

“Look at me,” you gesture to yourself, feeling a tight ball wind itself up in your throat. “No beard, too tall, I might as well just be a short human. I’m practically repulsive.”

His jaw drops and he stares at you for a long while. You can feel the judgment, and can practically hear his thoughts as he wonders at how ugly you are. Bilbo’s mouth opens and shuts multiple times before he lands on a squeaky, “Repulsive. That’s ridi-”

“There you are!” Gandalf’s head dips into the pantry and he gives you both an impatient smile. “We are waiting for you, Master Baggins,” he says your name and you nod. You throw the broom back in place and shove past them both, swallowing down tears. 

They watch you go with varying degrees of shock. “My word, what did you say to her?”

Bilbo snaps his jaw shut and shakes his head, “I might have brought up how peculiar it is that she doesn’t have a beard.”

Gandalf nods sagely, as though this is something he has experience with. “Sensitive topic for young dwarvish women.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for him?” You hiss to Kili as you all leave the tavern. You’d written Master Baggins a note, promising to wait for him in the Green Dragon Inn. If he didn’t make it by 11 AM, you would all leave. But Thorin was demanding your leave early, it didn’t seem fair to not give Bilbo a chance. 

Fili glances towards Thorin, making sure he’s not listening to the three of you. “Best not to argue with him. He’s been upset since the meeting in the north.”

You sigh, mounting your horse and falling into line with them. “I don’t blame him. They claim to be brothers, yet won’t come to our aid.”

“Watch, once we reclaim our home, they’ll all be demanding payment from the stores of Erebor.” You cannot help but agree with Kili. You are a greedy people, there’s no denying it. The lust for gold, at times, can rival that of a dragon’s. But you were loyal, to a fault. How could they abandon you all so readily?

You look towards Thorin and feel yourself deflate. He has been different since the stirrings of the journey were brewing. More prone to anger, and quicker to draw his blade. Something dark awakes within him when he thinks of Erebor. Reclaiming your home will benefit you all, but you cannot help but fear the dragon that lurks beneath its bones. 

Not the actual dragon, yes that’s terrifying, but the curse that lays over that gold could spell all your doom. You’d watched as it happened to one king, you don’t want to see another fall to the sickness. 

You’re about to ride up to Thorin when you hear a voice shouting wildly behind you all. “Wait! Wait!” You glance over your shoulder, a grin slowly spreading across your lips. Bilbo chases after the company, waving his contract in the air. 

Thorin frowns, bringing you all to a halt. Bilbo slides to a stop beside Balin. “I signed it,” he pants out, holding the contract out. The older dwarf frowns suspiciously, taking it from him and examining it through his lens. 

After a moment he nods at Thorin, “He signed it,” he reaffirms. Thorin glances towards Bilbo and you can’t tell if he’s going to honor his word or not. 

After a tense pause, Thorin finally nods, “Give him a pony.” Bilbo shakes his head and waves him off. 

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he insists. “I’m perfectly fine walking. You know I almost made the trek to-” Kili and Fili lean down and grab him by the jacket, hoisting him atop a pony. 

They both sport sore frowns as you ride up beside them. “I do believe I’m owed something, gentlemen.” You hold your palms out expectantly, Bilbo gives you an odd look as they both slam their gold into your hands. 

“What’s that?” He wonders as they ride off. 

You smile down at him, “You’ve just made me a rich woman, Master Baggins. They had a bet, about whether or not you would show.”

His brows raise and he narrows his eyes at you. “You thought I would come?”

You laugh, “Obviously.” You chuckle a little and toss him one of the pouches, “Here. It’s only fitting you should have some.” You nudge the side of your mare, urging her forward. Bilbo watches as you ride off, face furrowed in confusion as he rolls the gold around in his palm. 

He doesn’t know why you believing in him means so much, but it does. 

“Something caught your eye?” Bilbo startles from his thoughts and turns towards Balin. The old dwarf smiles slightly, glancing over Bilbo’s shoulder towards you. Bilbo flusters, stuttering slightly on his words as he shakes his head. 

“No,” Balin raises a brow and Bilbo shakes his head harder, scoffing. “No, not at all. I was only lost in thought.” Unwittingly, Bilbo’s gaze drifts back towards you. You’ve stripped off the heavy leathers of the day and are leaning over the fire, stirring some stew. 

The light of the fire casts you in a sort of glow. You could be mistaken for an elf by someone passing by. You tuck a braid behind your ear, standing up and glancing around camp. When your gaze drifts past him, he’s quick to turn back around. 

Balin is staring expectantly at him, giving him a cheeky smile. Bilbo’s quick to change the subject, not wanting to fan the flames of Balin’s assumption. “Are there other dwarf women,” he points vaguely towards you, “like her, I mean?”

Balin shakes his head, puffing on his pipe. “No, no one quite like her. She’s a fierce fighter and an even fiercer friend. She’s been working hard to campaign for this journey.”

“No,” Bilbo glances back towards you, ensuring you’re not listening. You’ve walked off, looking towards the ponies with a confused expression. “I mean, physically,” he rubs over his chin, miming where a beard is meant to be.

Balin huffs out a laugh. “No, it’s quite rare for any of us to be without beards. I don’t recommend bringing it up to her, it’s quite a sore subject. We think there might be some human blood, maybe even an elf somewhere down her line. It’s the only explanation for it.” He shakes his head with a sad smile, “A shame, truly.”

Bilbo continues to find himself more and more confused by his company. The way they speak of you, you’d think you were a troll, not a woman. “A shame? She’s,” he hesitates on the word, worrying it might be inappropriate. “She’s quite pretty,” he lands on.

Balin shrugs like there’s nothing to be done about it. “By any standard other than a dwarf’s. You have to understand, laddie, she’s a dwarf, despite appearances. No beard, too tall, she’s not pretty, as you said, to her people.”

Bilbo thinks it’s a horrible shame that you’re going to go through your whole life believing yourself to be some hideous creature. In truth, you’re one of the most beautiful women he’s ever met. He finds himself distracted every time your eyes meet his. 

“Bilbo,” you pop up behind him, scaring him as you seem to be doing. You smile slightly and nod towards the edge of camp. “Come with me?” Bilbo’s eyes widen as he follows after you. For a horrible moment, he thinks you’ve heard his and Balin’s conversation. 

You lead Bilbo into an outcrop of trees, there’s a little bit of firelight shining through ahead. His suspicions shift and he wonders if something else hasn’t gone wrong. Kili and Fili both stand by an overturned tree, peering over it and staring at something. Bilbo can’t see what it is from where he stands. 

You stop beside them both, turning towards him and giving him an apologetic smile. “We need your help-”

“We were meant to be watching the ponies,” Kili interrupts. 

“We’ve encountered a slight problem,” Fili motions toward the tree and Bilbo comes up to join them. “We had sixteen,” Bilbo looks to the pen where the ponies were being held and frowns.

“Now there’s fourteen,” you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face and glaring at Kili and Fili. 

“Oh no,” Bilbo frets. He counts the ponies again, just to ensure that you all didn’t make a mistake. “Should we not tell Thorin?”

Your face blanches and you share a panicked look with the brothers. “No,” Fili quickly butts in. “No reason to worry him. You are, after all, our burglar. We thought you might be able to help us.”

“We think we know where they went,” you tell him. Bilbo glances between the three of you and not for the first time he wonders how he got himself mixed up with this adventure. 

Trolls, trolls you could handle. Being tied up and thrown in a sack, nearly roasted alive and eaten. All of that was palatable. However, being hosted by elves was not. You sit at Elrond’s table and glare down at the vegetables before you. 

Elves, you almost scoff as one of them dances by you with a flute. They think they’re so much better than dwarves, so much more sophisticated. You wouldn’t be surprised if they were born with that haughty look on their face. 

It’s difficult to have an appetite when you have a rabbit’s dinner in front of you. It’s even harder when you’ve got Elrond’s men glaring holes into the back of your head. None of them trust you. And not because they expect you’re going to rob them. They simply don’t trust your table manners. 

A bread roll thunks against your cheek and you grimace. You pick it up, tossing it back at Dwalin and laughing as it knocks his salad into his lap. Well, they might have good reason to doubt your table manners.

You sigh, bored of your meal and tired of all the noise. You stand from the table, slipping away from the others. Thorin catches your eye as you leave, giving you a brief nod farewell. You head down the stairs, toward the pond you saw earlier. Perhaps, while everyone else is eating and arguing with each other, you can cleanse yourself. 

It’s been a long while on the road. Scrubbing yourself with rainwater hasn’t exactly done a wonderful job of keeping you clean. You’re used to always being on the move, but you’ve been able to settle down nicely enough in the mountains. It feels a little odd to be adventuring once more. 

You can practically smell the elves' magic permeating the air around you. It’s light, it feels like a weight being removed from your shoulders. It tastes like something sweet dancing along your tongue.

As much as you despise Thranduil and his kingdom for abandoning your people, a part of you has to admit that Elrond held no part of that. They did not offer you aid or a place to rest, but he had no reason to. It’s wrong to hold your bitterness against him. 

And it does not make a good king to so stubbornly reject Elrond’s help. You worry for Thorin, worry for his sanity when it comes to returning to Erebor. He’s so like his grandfather, it wouldn’t be so difficult for him to succumb to the same sickness Thror had. 

You drag your fingers lightly over the marble of the elves' home. It’s impressive, the way the forest manages to grow through their walls. Their architecture is something to be admired, even if it is not as grand as Erebor once was. 

You stumble upon the pond and strip out of your clothes. You dive into the pristine waters and are surprised when you feel no chill on your skin. The water is warm and it eases your aching bones. The stress melts away from your tightened muscles. If you weren’t so skeptical, you’d think the water held a magic of its own. Then again, Elrond’s Last Homely House is renowned for the healing capabilities it provides, perhaps it does.

You swim for a while, stretching your limbs and floating along the surface of the water. The sky darkens above you and the stars appear.

The view on the road is always gorgeous and usually left unblanketed by clouds. But this is absolutely breathtaking. You feel as though you could reach up and steal a star for yourself. 

You pull yourself onto the shore of the pond and find that your clothes have been taken. A white, gossamer gown hangs on the branch of a tree, and your brows furrow. “Elves,” you hiss with disdain. You wonder which one of the flighty things had left this while you’d been swimming. You’re sure whoever it was got quite the show. You pull the gown on and ponder going back to the others. 

You can hear their laughter from here. You know they’ve probably found food that you can actually stomach but you can’t bring yourself to leave the peaceful serenity of the water just yet. 

Bilbo does not want to admit that he was looking for you. He simply dismisses the idea as wanting to explore more of Elrond’s home. After all, he’s never gone further than the shire. He’d had the desire to, once, when he was a child. He’d all but abandoned that for the comfort of home. 

He can see why he had once wanted to see the elves so badly. The entire place is filled to the brim with magic and people older than the oak trees surrounding the Shire. He seems to be the only one recognizing how truly wonderful this place is. He knows the others all want to leave. He can see how restless they are the longer they stay. 

He wonders if you feel the same way. He cannot tell, he finds it harder to read you than he does the others. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s afraid of thinking of you for too long or if you are simply an enigma to him. 

He ascends the stairs, gazing out at the forest and smiling as the breeze brushes against him. Something catches his eye by the glittering waters of the pond and he frowns. He peers further over the railing and spots what must be another elf. They’re surrounded by starlight, basking in the glow of the night. Their beauty is nearly breathtaking. 

Imagine his surprise when they turn and it’s you. His eyes widen infinitesimally and he backs away from the rail before you can see him. Why does he keep mistaking you for an elf? 

Bilbo finds himself moving before he really thinks about what he’s doing. Your back is to him as you drape yourself along one of the rocks near the shore. Your toes dip slightly into the water and he can just barely hear you humming to yourself. 

He’s caught completely off guard by the sight of your hair. Damp and curling, it lay along your back without any braids. It’s the first time he’s seen any of the dwarves without a braid in their hair. He doesn’t have a vast amount of knowledge of your culture, but he feels as though it’s taboo to have your hair unbound like this. 

He clears his throat awkwardly and you shoot up in surprise. Your hand drifts to your hip where he’s sure there’s usually a dagger. Tonight, though, you are wholly unarmed. The thought doesn’t seem to bring you much comfort as you narrow your eyes at him. 

“Bilbo,” you call out, slightly breathless. “You scared me.”

He gives a strained smile and laughs, taking a hesitant step towards you. You sit up straighter and beckon him closer. He obliges embarrassingly fast, taking a seat beside you at the edge of the pond. He doesn’t even mind as moisture and mud stain his pants. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, voice light and tired. 

“I was going for a walk,” and wondering where you had gone, he thinks to himself. But that is not something he is ready to admit to you, yet. You’re still practically strangers. 

“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” 

He nods and the question that’s been lingering in his mind slips out. “How do you know Thorin?” You give him a confused look and he quickly adds, “You’re the only woman in the company, I’m only curious.”

“Oh,” you smile slightly and look towards the water. “I believe he’s my distant uncle, possibly a few times removed.” He frowns and you laugh, “The family tree grows a tad confusing. We’d gone through a long list of kings named Durin and the familial relations got hard to keep track of. It’s possible we might not share blood at all. But the dragon had left me orphaned and I was raised alongside Fili and Kili, blood or no, we’re family.”

There’s a faint smile on your face as you speak of the others and it makes a small one form for him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “losing your family, it must have been incredibly hard.”

You shake your head, shrugging his apology off. “No need, I was too young to truly remember them. Besides,” you gesture towards the balcony above and you both listen as the others laugh, “I’ve got more than enough now.”  

It’s admirable, how loyal you all are to each other. Bilbo’s almost envious of your bond with the others. It’s clear each of you would die for your king, for your home. It’s a dedication and purpose he has never had. 

“Do you miss the shire?” You ask, curious and not accusing as Thorin often is. “I imagine life on the road is nothing compared to the comforts of home.”

“Yes,” he answers so quickly it makes you both laugh. Your face lights up when you smile and you smile so little. But when you do, it makes his breath catch. He grows even happier when he’s the reason for it. 

“I do miss home. But,” he leans in and you follow, smirking like you’re sharing a secret. “I must admit, adventuring is not as bad as I once thought.”

“Ah,” you lean back, “we’re poisoning you Master Burglar. Soon you’re not going to want to go back.” Well, Bilbo would not go so far as to say that, but you do have a point. The recklessness of the dwarves has seemed to be influencing him, just a tad. 

“Well,” he hums and shakes his head slightly. He catches the teasing smile on your lips and doesn’t bother correcting you. “Maybe,” you look a little surprised that he played along and it only makes him more amused. 

His eyes drift towards your hair before looking back at you. You give him a self-conscious smile, idly running a hand over the strands. “I took them out to bathe, I didn’t have the energy to rebraid.”

He speaks before he can even think. Perhaps it is the joy of being alone with you that loosens his tongue so foolishly. “I could braid it for you.”

Your eyes widen with shock and you ever-so-slightly flinch back from him. “Do you,” you clear your throat, practically gaping at him. He doesn’t know what about what he just said is so appalling to you but he wishes he’d just never spoken at all. “Do you mean that?”

“Well,” he mutters lowly, “I suppose. Yes,” it sounds more like a question than anything. He can’t help but wonder what he just offered in your culture. 

You blink rapidly, pushing your shoulders back and straightening. “Alright,” you whisper and there’s a giddy grin on your lips that he can’t help but be suspicious of. “I’d love it if you would.”

He gets to his feet, moving to stand behind you and idly running his hand through the damp strands of your hair. He doesn’t do many, just enough to keep your hair out of your eyes as you’re on the road. But you seem to get more and more restless with each one he adds. 

Finally, when he’s done, he takes a step back and gives you a strained smile. “There you are.”

You get to your feet, running your hand over the braids. “Oh,” your eyes widen as you feel them. “You put quite a few.”

He glances away from you and looks to the tree beside him like might hold the answers to this bizarre encounter. “Was I not meant to?”

You shake your head rapidly and wave him off. “Oh, no, this is wonderful.” You wince and give him a strained smile, “I mean, it’s good. Thank you,” before he can question you on your odd behavior you run off. He watches with a furrowed brow as you rush up the stairs to the dwarves' quarters. 

He’s absolutely bewildered as he makes his way up a moment later. He can’t imagine what he could have done to offend you simply by offering to braid your hair. When he makes it to the quarters, he’s not greeted with the rowdy laughter and loud conversation he was expecting. 

Instead, the majority of the dwarves are huddled around the fire, whispering lowly amongst themselves. When he walks in each of them turns towards him so quickly he nearly runs back out of the room. He can’t imagine what he could have done to have warranted such odd reactions from both you and the company. 

“Er,” he skirts around them, or attempts to at least, “good night.”

“Bilbo,” he clenches his eyes shut, sighing as Thorin calls his name. Whatever he had done, any attempts at escaping the consequences are thrown out the window. He turns towards Thorin who's standing in the corner, away from the others. He waves him forward. 

Bilbo feels very much like a child about to be scolded as the others watch him move towards Thorin. Thorin glances towards the others and lets out a heavy sigh. He walks outside and Bilbo follows him down the stairs and back to the path he was on before. 

“I doubt you know what you’ve done,” Thorin grumbles bitterly. He looks to Bilbo who only shakes his head. “Braids mean a great deal to us, I don’t imagine they hold much meaning for hobbits.”

“No, they don’t.” Bilbo glances back towards the balcony, and he sees you standing there. The moonlight still shines down upon you and he still can’t fathom that you would ever believe yourself to be anything but beautiful. 

“She is young, but she’s not a fool. I’m sure she knows that you didn’t mean anything by giving her courting braids,” Thorin emphasizes the words with a severe look. Bilbo curses his foolishness under his breath. He can’t believe he’s done something so stupid. “Did you?” Thorin asks. 

Bilbo shakes his head quickly, “No, of course not. I didn’t-”

“Know,” Thorin finishes for him. “I know. Could you?”

Bilbo looks up at him with a confused scrunch to his face. “Could I… what?” he asks hesitantly. 

“Could you ever care for her like that?” Bilbo goes to answer but Thorin interrupts him before he can. “She’ll never have any luck with her own people, not with the way she looks. If anyone did marry her, it would only be so they could be closer to the king and I don’t want that for her. I’m not asking you to marry her Master burglar, I’m only asking if you’d ever consider it.”

Thorin leaves Bilbo standing right back at the pond. He goes back to join the others and when Bilbo turns to watch him go, you wave at him from the balcony. He considers what Thorin said, and considers how he feels every time you two get a chance to be alone. 

He entertains the idea for a moment, but it's foolish. Even if he was truly in love with you, you were two completely different people. You were used to the road, always looking for a new adventure. Bilbo knew he would only ever have one great adventure in his life. His heart would always call him back to the Shire, back to home. 

He smiles and waves back at you. He watches you go back inside and he stays by the pond, thinking of what it could be like. 

The last time you see Bilbo is at Thorin’s funeral. You’re consumed by your grief and can’t spare him any attention. Three men to be mourned. The last of your true family is dead while another sits the throne that Thorin had earned. 

You can’t help but weep over their bodies, can’t help but leave the room so you won’t have to look at them any longer. You run from the procession, and that’s when you see him. Slipping away from everything like a proper thief. 

“Bilbo?” You call out, your voice is watery and thick. He lingers by the entrance of the mountain. His shoulders jump to his ears as he tenses at the sound of your voice. He turns back to you, offering you a weak smile. “Leaving?” You question, a weak tease lying somewhere in your tone. 

He nods, “I thought it would be better like this.”

“You didn’t think we’d want to say goodbye?” Bofur’s voice echoes behind you. You turn to find the others all standing there, watching as Bilbo tries to leave. You must not have been the only one unable to stomach seeing another wearing the crown. 

Dain had fought for you all, he’d come to your aid when you needed him most. He’d earned the title of king. But that didn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. 

Bilbo laughs sadly when he sees the rest of the company. You’re sure he thought it would be less painful to simply leave you all. But you needed some sort of closure with him. Even though you’d always known that nothing could ever truly happen between the two of you, you still weren’t ready to let go. 

“If any of you are ever passing Bag End,” he pauses, swallowing thickly, “tea is at four. There’s plenty of it.” His gaze drifts towards you and you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye, “You are always welcome.”

You only know he’s gone when you hear his footsteps retreating. Pain and heartache make a coward out of you. You don’t chase him or call out to him as you should. You watch him leave and you let him go. 

One Year Later

The clock chimes just half past four and a knock rings out through Bag End. Bilbo frowns, head lifting from the map he’s working on. He pauses and his home remains silent. He shakes his head, dismissing it as a hopeful illusion. Just as he places the quill back on the parchment another rapid set of knocks ring out. 

This time it’s persistent. It grates on him as his door rattles from the force. Bilbo huffs, “A moment, please!” He snaps, glaring at whoever lurks behind his door. Another impatient knock and he wonders if it would be wrong to get Sting out of the chest by the door. 

He stomps towards the door, grabs the knob, and throws it open, “What-”

He cuts himself off, eyes widening and face going slack with shock as you smile at him. You’re here. You’re here and standing before him and he almost wonders if he’s dreaming of you again. 

“Master Bobbins?” You tease, a watery laugh leaving your parted lips. 

“What-” he stutters and stumbles over his words, not even sure what to say. He’s barely processed the fact that you’re even here. 

You shrug, “I’m sorry I’m so late. I was hoping to get here at four but Bofur had some problems on the road,” you cut yourself off and give him a breathless laugh. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I stayed a while.”

Bilbo can only smile, something thick and choking hanging at the back of his throat. He feels his chest tighten and he shakes his head. “Please,” he breathes out, “stay.”

You grin at him, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as you take a step inside. “You planted the tree,” you point out, looking toward the sapling growing by his home. 

“It reminds me of,” he trails off. It reminds him of everything. Thorin, the adventure, all the friends he’d left behind. You. You nod, not needing words to understand him. “What are you doing here?” He asks, not yet having processed what you’d said.

“I thought it was time for a different adventure,” you tell him, your hand grazing against his as you smile at him. You walk into his home and Bilbo closes the door behind you, already thinking of a million ways your adventure could begin. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the book/movie The Hobbit, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © scribes-of-valar 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[f1cflcfic]

Just Because I Called You (Carlos Sainz) - part iii

pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem!reader

summary: y/n knows there's a reason for his contact details to be saved under 'do not interact', but one call does not mean you miss him.

genre: written au, brief 18+ content, angst

wordcount: 3.2k

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

previous parts available here.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

This isn’t happening.

It must be a dream, or a nightmare – you’re not entirely sure yet.

Carlos is outside. Has been outside for about two minutes now, if the delivery notification of his message is anything to go by.

Suddenly, that earlier idea of having a fifth martini and shot at the bar seems like a very bad one. In fact, you’re quite certain you wholeheartedly regret them when you stand up and have to immediately grip the back of the chair so as to not fall over. For a brief moment, you consider leaving through the back alley – but then you realise that it really doesn’t make a difference.

Carlos is already here, waiting.

It’s easy to lie to yourself, and pretend that it’s just the alcohol that’s making you feel lightheaded, as you make your way over to the podium once your team is crowned the winner of this month’s pubquiz. It’s easy to pretend that the air feels electric just because you’ve won, and you’re only looking out into the crowd to cheer your victory. It’s easy to pretend that you’re just tired and drunk, and that’s why you’re leaving so soon.

It’s too easy to spot Carlos hiding in the shadows of the pub, and follow him out to his unassuming Golf amidst all the opulence in Monaco, and slip into it like you still belong.

The alcohol has left you a little uncoordinated, and struggling with the seatbelt. On your fourth attempt, Carlos’ large hand reaches out and stills your movements. The ache in you grows a little bigger as you quietly watch him buckle you in, and you try not to focus on the heat his fingers leave behind on your skin.

Desperate not to somehow ruin the precarious peace – or the calm before the storm, your eyes flit across his car. There’s the chilli charm and your housekey, still dangling against the dash. And there’s the stuffy in the back, resembling Carlos’ family dog.

Everything looks the same as it always did.

It’s comforting and awful all at once.

“Smartinis. I like that one,” he murmurs with a soft smile, but you refuse to look at him. Won’t acknowledge that the way it rolls off his tongue is exactly the way in which you’ve been waiting to hear the team name spoken all night.

The problem is that you really do not trust your tongue around him, especially not when it’s already been loosened by alcohol. This cannot end up like that night ten days ago. No matter how much some part of you might want it to.

“What’d you win?”

When he doesn’t start the car immediately, clearly waiting for a response of sorts,  you sigh, fogging up a tiny part of the window your head is resting on. “Restaurant voucher.”

“Oh,” he nods to himself, and you can feel his eyes boring into the back of your head as you meticulously draw a martini glass. “That’s nice.”

It feels awkward and uncomfortable, as the stifling silence descends on you once more. Someone walks past his car, and you wonder what it is exactly that he’s waiting for. Thanks? Acknowledgment? Forgiveness? Answers?

The thought alone has you shaking your head. There’s quite some answers that you’d like from him, instead.

Curiosity wins in the end. “How’d you know where I was?”

“Your location – you never turned it off,” he answers, guilt creeping into his voice as if he hadn’t wanted to admit that particular secret. You can’t help yourself as you turn over in surprise, knowing full well that you’ll find his brown eyes already staring back at you. There’s a whirlpool of emotions in them, and it hurts more than it should, knowing that you’ve inadvertently caused it.

His hand is resting on the console between your seats, and you fight the urge to grab onto it. To seek comfort in his touch, and provide some in return. Instead, you purse your lips and nod to yourself.

“And my sister,” he adds all of a sudden, as if he can’t stand the idea of not spilling his guts to you fully, completely.

You wish he’d done so earlier.

“She – she texted you were drunk, said you were upset. That someone had tried to come on to you.”

His hand leaves the console, and you follow the movement with your eyes as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I know it’s not my place, but I just wanted to make sure you were safe. And then when you didn’t reply, I just – I’m sorry. Joder.”  

It shouldn’t make you feel warm inside. Of course he cares. Carlos, for all his faults, is a good man. One who cares about his sisters. If his sister had implied you needed him, of course he’d come running.

It doesn’t mean anything else, you tell yourself. He hadn’t called, just because. Hadn’t reached out because he’d been missing you. He wouldn’t call for something so silly. He’d called, because his sister had made him feel like he needed to assuage her concerns. That’s all.

When you still don’t respond, he sighs and starts the ignition. But what is it that you even want to say? How can you possibly make sense of your alcohol-infused thoughts?

“He shouldn’t have texted you back,” you settle on. You’re still afraid of looking at him directly, of just how easily your carefully constructed walls would all but implode. Instead, you fixate on the way in which he holds the steering wheel, and how he clenches it just so when you speak. You’ve always known Carlos to be a relaxed driver, and his tight grip is so unlike him, that your eyes shoot up to gage his expression before you’ve even realised. Where he’d been looking at you earlier, he’s focusing on the road now.

“It’s okay ne- I mean. We’re not,” he struggles, as if for a loss of words. “We’re not together anymore.”

You nod, biting your lip. The shoot of pain blooming from your lips distracts from how much it hurts to hear it put so bluntly. To watch Carlos’ tight expression as he says it. It doesn’t feel as liberating as you’d hoped, instead an ugly sense of disappointment coming to the surface.

“Still. You’re not his to text,” you insist. Neither is he yours – not anymore, your brain helpfully provides. It’s Carlos’ turn to remain quiet, the silence feeling all but suffocating.

“Besides, I’m not dating Dean. Or anyone. But especially not him. He’s my colleague – the one your sister mentioned,” you blurt, as if compelled. Maybe it’s a sick need to break the silence, break the tension, a pathetic attempt to reach out. Or maybe it’s the liquid courage, you reason.

When Carlos doesn’t say anything, just briefly looks over with soft eyes and a stubble you’d really love to feel scratch against your skin again, you can’t help but continue.

“Would she have texted you, if she’d known?”

He tenses again, fingers flexing on the wheel. When he doesn’t respond, you try again – asking the question you’ve been dancing around.

“Carlos. Why didn’t you tell your sister about us?”

“Why didn’t you?” He parries, and you frown. It’s the coward’s way out. It’s exactly what had caused you to end up like this, sitting in the same car but feeling miles away apart from each other.

“Don’t do that,” you whisper. “Don’t fucking turn it around on me. It’s your family.”

“I wanted them to be yours, too.”

It’s said so quietly, you almost miss it. Panic unfurls in your chest at the insinuation. Hadn’t this been exactly what you’d been so afraid of?

“It’s not easy, you know? Trying to figure out what happened, and coming to terms with that, and then telling them,” he starts again. “I wanted – I didn’t want this either.”

“So then why you’d come at all,” you snap, tears welling up in your eyes. Whether out of frustration, heartbreak, or alcohol, you can’t even tell. Clarity. You’d kill for some fucking clarity. The question is if Carlos Sainz Junior is the person who can even grant it.

“Because I lo-care, Y/N. And I know you do, too. You could’ve told me to go. Could’ve chosen to stay and ignore me. But you didn’t. And that means something. At least it does to me,” he sounds upset, accent getting thicker as he speaks.

As the car winds down the Monaco roads, creeping closer and closer to your apartment building, it hits you. What if he runs out of road? If there’s nowhere else to go? What happens when time runs out on you to have this conversation? It terrifies you – imagining a future with, or without Carlos. It’s equally frightening, and therein lies the problem, doesn’t it?

“So then why’d you leave? You could’ve stayed. The other day when we – well,” your voice cracks, and you hate it. Hate how vulnerable he makes you feel, even now. Even when you’ve done everything you could to protect and arm yourself. It’s still led you back to this.

One of his hands slips from the steering wheel, reaches out as if driven by instinct, before retreating to a neutral spot on the console instead. He mutters something under his breath, then sighs in resignation.

“Don’t ask me questions you don’t really want to hear the answer to.”

The biting remark almost makes you flinch, but it’s a sudden yet violent wave of nausea that actually does you in. With one hand pressed to your mouth, you desperately reach out to find purchase on Carlos’ arm.

You try to breathe in and out through your nose, suppressing the urge to gag. He pulls over to the side of the road, and within seconds he’s at your side. “It’s okay nena, take a deep breath, there you go.”

It’s probably one of the most embarrassing moments in your life – dry-heaving on the highway, in the middle of the night, with your ex there to witness it all. Consoling you, offering you a bottle of water when inevitably you do throw up the contents of that evening.

“I’m so- fuck, so sorry,” you take another gulp of water, and dab at your mouth with the tissue Carlos hands you next. Refusing eye contact, you slide down to sit on the gravel, leaning against the car.

He sits down next to you, just close enough for your shoulders to brush, but doesn’t say anything.

“I almost threw up in your Golf.”

“It could’ve been my Ferrari,” he tries to lighten the mood, but instead you let out a strangled laugh that turns into a hiccup as the first tear rolls down your cheek.

“Weirdly, I think I wouldn’t feel as bad. Your parents bought you this car – I know you love it the most.” Another tear follows, dropping onto your shirt. “And I almost ruined it. As usual.”

Carlos stiffens next to you. “And now I’m crying. Shit. I’m sorry Carlos, I think I just – I need to go home. Sleep it off.”

You push the palms of your hands into your eyes, hoping to rub away the tears and keep new ones from falling. It doesn’t work, because tan fingers encircle your wrists to pull them away from your face.

He cradles your hands in his lap, then gently dips his head down so there’s nowhere to hide from him. It leaves you feeling incredibly bare.

“You didn’t ruin it. And I don’t love it the most,” there’s nothing but conviction in his eyes when he catches your gaze. Except, when you get sidetracked by the way his eyelashes fan across his cheeks, you see a flicker of something else. Hesitation.

The air feels charged, as if you’re both waiting on the precipice of something. You’re acutely aware of the way his hands tighten briefly around your own, how his shoulder nudges yours, and how his chest rises and falls just slightly quicker than usual.

Desperate to break the tension, and feeling entirely too close to losing it completely, you try and claw back what little control you have over the situation.  

“I don’t think I’ll puke anymore,” you whisper. It should make him recoil, should make him want to back away. But instead, Carlos tries to hide a smile before pressing a brief kiss on your forehead. As he pulls back, his eyes flicker to your lips, and almost on instinct, you tilt your head upward.

He swallows, voice dragging as his tongue darts out to lick his lips. “I – let me get you home.”

You nod, but make no move to get up or disentangle yourself from him. Carlos does it for you, slowly severing the connection as he stands up and pulls away.

The drive home isn’t far anymore, and within fifteen minutes, the car comes to a standstill again. You’ve spent it in silence, taking small sips of water every once in a while as you tried to gather your thoughts. Not that you’ve made much progress on that front. You’re still as confused, wondering exactly why it is that you keep rubbing at your ribs – as if there’s some physical pain you can just magic away.

“We’re here,” Carlos breaks first. He looks over at you, an unspoken question hanging in the air.

You know it’s dumb, that it’s you falling in exactly the same trap as you did ten days ago. But just like that, he’s quietly following you out the car and into the building.

The elevator ride sees you ignore his presence, but you feel the heat emanate from his body as he hovers behind you and presses the button to your floor.

When you unlock the door, Carlos steps inside before you do. “Let me help you,” he offers as explanation. Before you can even realise what he means, he’s bending down, unlacing your shoes and motioning for you to use him for balance as you step out of them.

“You want to shower?” He asks next, and you find yourself nodding dumbfounded.

He toes off his own shoes quickly, hangs your coat in the coatrack and disappears down the hallway. When he returns, holding a towel and your favorite showergel, you follow him into the bathroom. Carlos helps you undress, and it’s soft in a way you can’t quite understand. Can’t fully grasp what’s happening between the two of you now. Why he’s here, why he’s being so kind, why he’s taking care of you – when you’ve done nothing but push him away.

He motions for you to step under the shower, and you’ve never felt more confused when he makes to turn away. So you find yourself asking if he’ll join you.

“Just – could you wash my hair? It’s all knotted.” It’s a flimsy excuse, and you both know it. But he relents, anyways. Gives in, like he always does – like you’d hoped he’d do. His eyes lock on yours as he strips off his clothes, before joining you.

It’s not sexual, but it feels intimate and right for all the wrong reasons, you tell yourself. Carlos’ hands move through your hair, scratching just so at your scalp that you can’t help but moan.

His breath hitches, and when you return the favour, letting your fingers linger at the nape of his neck, it’s as if there’s a coil spring between the two of you, ready to snap.

Once the water’s shut off, and Carlos steps away to grab your towel, you step up right behind him. Even though he turns around in surprise, he doesn’t say anything. Waits for your cue, as he slowly drags the towel down your shoulders and back. A small collection of water drops runs in rivulets down his chest, getting tangled in the chest hair he’s yet to shave off. You flick your gaze up at Carlos’ eyes, molten chocolate staring back at you. The coil snaps. Without breaking eye-contact, you step even closer and can feel his arousal as you move to kiss the water away.

It all goes downhill quick after that.

Thirty minutes later, you’re staring up at the ceiling from where you’re lying side by side on your bed. Your hair’s still damp, sticking to your neck.

Silence descends, uncomfortably stifling the room.

“We shouldn’t have done that. I can’t – this is no good.” His words are like a punch to the gut. Because he sounds broken, and regretful, and yearning all at the same time. And you can’t handle it. Because you know he’s right. This isn’t healthy.

“How did we end up like this?” You ask quietly instead, carefully keeping your gaze fixed on the LEGO flowers that adorn your dresser. You probably should’ve gotten rid of those, too. Thank God your friends don’t know that it was Carlos who got them for you, and who you spent an entire afternoon with arranging LEGO bouquets.

“You ended things,” Carlos unhelpfully reminds you. His tone is unusually sharp, even though you can tell he’s trying not to show it. It hurts to know you brought that out of him, but it’s also exactly why you did it in the first place – end things.

Love shouldn’t hurt, not like this.

So it isn’t love, is what you’ve been telling yourself. It can’t be. Because you won’t allow it. But that doesn’t keep your treacherous heart from wanting it all the same.

“Would you have called, if your sister hadn’t texted?”  Do you miss me?

“You don’t want to hear that, Y/N.”

“Humor me,” you plead.

“Of course. I miss you. I miss you all the time.” It sounds anguished, and strangled as the words leave his mouth. You close your eyes, and take another breath.

Maybe there’s still a sliver of liquid courage swimming through your veins, or maybe it’s the post-orgasmic haze that lets the words slip by your usual defences. But you find yourself unable to stop them from coming out your mouth this time. “Then how is it that you are so competitive on track, but you wouldn’t fight for us? For me?”

You hate how small and vulnerable you sound, or how your throat feels thick all of a sudden. Stupid, stupid girl. Hasn’t he told you? Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.

If Carlos is surprised by your sudden mood change, he doesn’t say. Instead, his fingers curl around your own, squeezing them briefly.

“I don’t want my relationship to be defined by competition. Love should be freely given, no?”

You’re quiet, trying to compute what he’s saying. You’ve never thought of it that way. Before you can object, he continues on. “And I’m here. I’m always here. Even when you don’t want me to. You can push me away, but it won’t change – I cannot change it.”

“Except for when you have to leave,” you whisper unhelpfully. He rolls onto his side and stares at you. It’s hard to make out his expression in the dark when you inevitably cave and turn around as well, focusing on where you know his face to be.

“Just because I have to, doesn’t mean I want to. But I won’t ask you for something you’re not willing to give.”

When you don't answer, he sighs. The bed dips, and while part of you would love nothing more than to latch onto him and keep him close - there's the part of you that's so afraid of what it might mean to do so, that lets him go.

Five minutes later, he's out the door.

It's not until the next morning that you realise his hoodie's gone too.

｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚｡ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ｡˚

Let me know what you think <3 Likes, comments, reblogs, asks are all appreciated.

Read part iv here.

want to be added to the taglist? send me an ask!

[acerathia]

drowning in you || Rafayel | Qi Yu

Summary:

Valentinesday doesn't work out, does it?

Wordcount: 2.5k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Qí Yù | Rafayel / Reader | MC

Tags/CW:

established relationship, dancing and kissing in the rain, flirting, bathing and washing each other, non-sexual intimacy, references(spoilers) to Mainstory and Myth, Moles as lasting kisses from the last life, implied sexual content after fic, domestic fluff

Note:

Happy Valentines!! I wrote this bc I go insane for him oops

With a little smile, you let your phone slide back into your bag. Rafayel has told you to come to the park nearby, and you wonder what he’s planning, hopefully not another trip on a boat, the simple memory makes you shiver. After that incident, you would never trust him with an oar ever again. But because you’re supposed to meet him at the entrance of the park, you assume it must be something slightly drier.

– where r u? ive been waiting for ages

omw! close to the entrance of the park –

You round the last corner, and immediately spot his figure, arms crossed, close to the park. For a moment, you take your time to look at him, the way the sun shines between his hair, giving him some sort of underwater feeling. But you can’t help but squint when you notice his attire, one you have seen before, one Rafayel usually wears when meeting for some art stuff of his. You brush it off, it’s usual for him to wear something that draws the eye, being an artist and all, he does love showing his aesthetic with his clothes.

He seems to have sensed you, because he turns in your direction, and while you smile at him and hurry your steps to get closer to him, his lips push slightly forward.

“Finally, I thought you had forgotten about me! Did you look at the time? It’s been ages, I feel like I’m about to see fish walk on land,” he mutters the moment you stop in front of him.

“Well, I think I already see one,” you grin, before cupping his cheeks carefully. “In fact, this fish is right in front of me.”

The pout doesn’t disappear entirely, but it does soften as he leans closer to your skin. “See? I was right, you’ve left me waiting for too long.”

A huff of breath hits your face softly before he straightens up, not even waiting for your answer as he takes your hand in his, entwining your fingers together. “It doesn’t matter, you’re here now. Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, you both enter the park, and follow the path for quite some time. You have no idea what Rafayel wants to show you, so you only walk by his side, simply enjoying this quality time while looking around the place in peace.

The park seems huge, as before you both even arrived at his set destination, you begin to feel something cold hitting your head. You scrunch your face and look up, only for a drop of water to hit your cheek, your eyelids. You blink in surprise as the rain falls, multiplying with each second, with each step.

A groan, and your gaze immediately flicks to Rafayel, who’s gingerly holding a hand over his head. “Great, now everything is ruined… Did the weather forecast make a mistake? I even checked it for today” He turns to you and meets your eyes. “Let’s go back, c’mon.”

He sighs, disappointment apparent in the way his shoulders slump. “I guess, we’re going to make it up another time… Let’s hurry up and escape this annoying rain.”

You squeeze his hand as you follow his brisk steps into the direction you both came from. “It’s okay, spending time with you is more than enough for me.”

Your words only seem to make him walk faster, the rain hitting your face softly, and you can’t help but slow down slightly.

Laughing, you can’t help but tease him. “But let’s slow down a bit. You’re not going to turn into a mermaid the moment water touches you, are you?”

He turns around to face you, his face scrunched up in a pout. “How ridiculous! That only happens in those TV series. And we’re both already wet, wouldn’t it be too late to consider that anyway?” He cocks his head to the side, before a smug look takes over. “Unless you want me to turn into one to ogle at me, hm? Wouldn’t you like that?” With these words, he leans closer towards you, a grin over his plush lips.

Your eyes flick towards them before returning to his eyes, his lashes clumped and longer with the dripping water. You feel a heat creeping up your neck, and now you’re the one with a small pout on your lips. For a moment, you don’t have any comebacks, so you decide to do what always works the best.

Your free hand grabs his shoulders and you stretch slightly towards him. Your lips meet his. And despite the cold water, his skin is warm against yours. Without missing a beat, his arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you closer, stealing another peck before you could fully pull away.

Once there’s some space between your faces, you can’t help but grin at the redness spreading over the tips of his ears, but you want to see that color over his cheeks. So, you put your lips against his cheeks, closer to his ears.

“Of course I want to see you naked,” you whisper at him, and he immediately pulls away, the color bleeding into the rest of his face.

He holds his hands in front of his face, shielding it from your view. “Wh-what are you talking about?” he stammers, taking a small step back.

You can’t help but think how adorable he looks this flustered, but you stop teasing him, as the rain makes you feel cold, and you imagine he starts feeling the same. Taking his hand once again, you step closer to him and let your forehead rest against his chest.

Almost immediately, despite his embarrassment, his arm winds up against you, his face hot against the skin on your neck. Your other hand comes up to stroke through the wet strands of his hair, now closer to a darker blue when soaked like this.

You don’t know who starts it, but you both begin to slightly rock, a small dance under the rain, interlocked, heart against heart, listening to a tune only you both could hear.

“Let’s go home…” you whisper against his skin, feeling the goosebumps over it.

A sigh on your own skin, and he straightens up, his gaze wandering over your face, filled with something complex, something that warms you despite the cold seeping into your clothes.

Once he nods, you both are on your way again, heading towards the closest apartment of one of you. It doesn’t take long, and you’re glad to be out of the rain, because the moment you enter your home, the rain picks up, the wind sweeping over the streets. You really don’t want to know how it feels to be there.

Soaking wet, you begin to strip yourself of your shoes and socks. “I’m going to take a shower to warm up,” you tell him, and without words he just follows you on your heels.

It’s a burdensome task to get rid of the wet clothes sticking to your skin, but you manage it nonetheless. The heat of the turned on water is already spreading through the air, and you’re almost excited to get under it. With your focus on the upcoming warmth, a squeak of surprise escapes you, when you feel his cold fingers around your waist, his lips against the back of your neck.

You turn your head slightly towards him and kiss the corner of his lips, your fingers intertwining with his, before you fully turn around, your fingers carefully helping him out of his wet clothes, scattering soft kisses here and there over his cold skin. After that, you wordlessly pull him with you to stand under the warm rain of the shower.

For a moment, you let the heat seep into you, relax your muscles, before you grab the shampoo bottle. But instead of slathering it onto your own hair, you motion for him to lean down. Once he does, you put a good portion of the shampoo into his hair, and begin to massage it in, spreading it over his scalp and hair. You watch as he closes his eyes, leaning closer to you.

After you’re thoroughly done, you let him lean his head under the water once again, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair with soft strokes, your hands taking care of each strand, massaging his scalp. Once everything is truly gone, you grab one of your conditioners to take a bit of into your hands, spreading them over your palms before you begin to rub it into the ends of his hair.

A low hum sounds from him and he shuffles a little closer, his hands finding your waist, as always, keeping them there to anchor himself.

Allowing the conditioner to set, you grab his loofa, the one he has deposited ages ago, making himself at home in your home, sharing it with you. Making sure the foam has spread properly all over it, you begin to gently scrub his skin, his shoulders, his arms. You can’t help yourself but scatter some kisses here and there, on his jaw, on his neck.

Coming up to his chest, your eyes lock onto the tiny mole there. “Did you know, some people say that moles are an indication of where our past love has kissed us, over and over again,” you whisper against his skin before kissing the mole softly. “I will love you, for all of my lifetimes, over and over again… And I want to give you something to remember this one, and every one after…”

You’re vaguely aware that you have met Rafayel in your last lifes. And even if your memory is hazy, pieces coming up to you in blurry dreams, you know that you have loved him, and you will continue to love him, for as long as time allows you to exist.

You look up to him, his eyes wide, glazy with swirling emotions. Instead of saying anything, he leans down and catches your lips with his in something sweet, filled with love, of the past, present and future. You melt into his touch, into his warmth, into his steady presence. There isn’t another place you would love to be more than at his side.

For a moment, you let your thoughts focus on him, on the way he calls your name, on the way his ears blush when flustered, on the way he teases you with so much affection.

One last peck, and you continue with your endeavor, gently scrubbing his skin, massaging the tension out of his muscles.

After you make sure that he’s relaxed and clean, you once again guide him towards the water, letting the water glide over his body, warmth seeping into him and relaxing him a bit more. You gently grab his hair and massage all the conditioner away, until all that’s left are his pretty strands of hair.

Your lips meet his forehead, before you turn to take care of your own hair. But before you could even grab the bottle, he does, a bit of the liquid on his palms to slather onto your hair.

With the amount of knowledge he has on you, on your routine and day to day life, he manages to perfectly take care of your hair, his fingers carefully moving on your scalp, caressing the tension there out of your head.

A sigh escapes your lips and this time you’re the one stretching closer towards him, arms around his waist.

Rafayel rinses your hair carefully, each strand flowing through his fingers, and you enjoy each touch of his. Especially when he swipes your hair away to reveal your neck, placing a soft kiss there.

Despite being done, you both stay like this for a moment, his face against your shoulder, your fingers drawing random symbols on his skin, intertwined, skin to skin, warmth to warmth.

Just when you notice your fingers getting prune, do you turn off the water, reaching for the towels to dry up. You pass him his own, and watch as he dabs the water away, before wrapping it around his waist. You begin to feel a little bit warmer when he reaches up to swipe his hair away from his face, running his fingers through the strands, making them stick like that.

You turn around to take care of yourself and leave the bathroom to step into the bedroom, one supposedly belonging to you, yet filled with his trinkets and clothes. You step around some paint brushes clustered on the ground and grab a shirt and other clothes.

Once you put them on, you notice how the shirt belongs to him, something he has left behind after one of his escapades from the journalists. You don’t take it off though, rather you turn towards him as he pulls his pants on, a soft piece of clothing, perfect to sleep in.

His eyes glance up to you, getting stuck on his shirt on you, and you smile as you watch the redness bleeding into his ears, into his cheeks.

He crosses his arms, looking away. “So, you’re now also stealing my clothes now?”

You raise your eyebrows at this. “Uhm, what else have I stolen from you, Rafayel?” you ask, well aware that everything scattered around your place is due to him bringing it over. You can’t say you don’t love seeing his stuff around your place, though. It makes it more livelier, happier.

At your words, he turns around and begins prancing towards you, and you take a step back, your shins hitting the edge of the bed. He leans closer to your face, his eyes running over your face, admiring every single feature of yours, almost like his eyes have landed on an artwork.

You suddenly feel shy under his gaze, so you try to lean back, but when you try to do so, you end up falling onto the bed, sitting on the edge of it.

Instead of letting up, Rafayel puts both his hands on the side of your thighs, supporting himself on the bed to follow you.

“How dare you forget. You have stolen my heart, over and over again,” he whispers against your lips, before dipping in and taking a taste of your lips once again.

A small laugh of yours is drowned by his lips, as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him with you onto the bed. Drops of water fall onto your face from his wet hair, yet you don’t care at all. All that matters is him, Rafayel in your arms and his lips on yours.

With a puff of air, he lands on you, and as the kiss breaks apart for a moment, you take your time to admire his face, the soft lips, his translucent eyes, almost glowing every time he catches your gaze. He doesn’t give you much time, though, before he kisses you again, and again, each kiss making your heart thump with excitement, with all those emotions he manages to awaken in you.

And you’re happy to be the one waking up by his side, spending every lifetime as the person he loves. To be the person who loves him truly in every life.

You can’t help but shudder when his lips move over your jaw to your throat, when he softly murmurs against your skin.

“Let me drown in you…”